#I am just NOT getting the same spark from SP

[starfoam]

//I’m trying to play SP so I can check it off my list but gang this is like the store brand version of Pokemon

[introtofa]

W E E K 1 ✦

DUE BEFORE mid-term break! It's due on the 23rd of August!!!!

PARTNERSHIP

To be able to collaborate is the key to moving anywhere in the art world, both in creative concept and opportunity. I am lucky to have a partner who is also an artist, with friends that are also artists, and bounce ideas and jointly grow in ability as a result.

TACTILITY

Despite the greater range offered by PC software, I compose most of my music on an old iPad, as being able to touch forms a great part of my connection to making. I chew my digital pens, tap rubbery sampler pads on my SP-202, and feel the paper I draw on.

GROWTH ENVIRONMENT

Both of my parents had a creative spark at a younger age, but were unable to find the support at home to keep this flame going. My parents have provided me with endless encouragement, constructive criticism and plenty of art supplies to keep my dream alive.

HYPERFOCUS

Autism can be a double edged sword in most facets of life, and the capacity to 'hyper-focus' is no different; it can often lead me into rabbit holes of distraction that last hours. But at the right times, this state can lead to me to fully immerse into my work.

HUMOR

It's good to be lighthearted as a general rule of life, and it's also one hell of a defense mechanism. In my art, I'd like to imagine that it strips any barriers of intimidation. My 2023 piece BRAZEN FUCK OBJECT would've had a more apprehensive response if it weren't for the name.

CATERGORIZATION

It's a colonizer trait, I know. But damnit, I love sorting things! I love statistics, infographics, charts, comparing reviews, seeing the top-and-bottom rankings of any given entity. It's given me a fairly unbearable taste in music, but I can't deny how this has shaped my work in turn.

MONOLOGUE

I don't exactly know when to be quiet, and same goes on inside my head. Being left with my thoughts is a common state I find myself in (especially given a pleasantly isolating e-scooter job), both master and subject in my own internal reality. I hear some people call this 'imagination'.

TO BE SEEN

Turns out I'm not a good audience for myself. I don't really decorate my living space, I just keep it clean. Likewise, my work is always made with the underlying hope that it'll be seen. Every note I write might just end-up being uncovered and re-read for all I know. This contributes to a deep perfectionism in most things I do, and honestly should be discussed with my therapist.

NICHE

Generally, I seek comfort in what I do - to quell any particular inadequacies in absence by shooting towards said thing. From there, there's always something else. I want to make art for a living. Find a community of such, and when I get all that, I'll probably want a better pen.

RE-ADAPTATION

I am not that unique, if at all, really; I've just been listing basic human traits for the past nine entries, and likewise, my creativity would not have anywhere close to the variety it has if I lived 100 years ago. Listening to new music, seeing new things, it keeps my mind open and ideas fresh as they get pumped into my brain's uranium chamber, to be mutated and spat out as something somewhat different later on. It's the joy of making, really.

[erigold13261]

Okay... that was a lot. I LOVE ALL OF THEM SO MUCH HOLY SHIT So... some responses/questions based on that! (Sorry if this is a bit long)

What if Rika is alive? But Rika the human rejected/got scared of Yuta who ended up making Rika the entity? (I think Rika the human would never do that so... what if Rika moved away?) (Such a cool power for Yuta, since Suguru has the power copying, Yuta basically gets turned into Ben-10 for this AU!)

Toji gets defeated real??/j Oh he's going to be picked up by the entitites? AND MEGUMI AND TSUMIKI ARE HEEEEERE (Megumi has shadow powers, and Tsumiki has no powers right? Tsumiki doesn't get into a coma right? Or get possessed right?????)

Gakuganji gets defeated by Hobie (ass-kicking and bonding my beloved) and sees that he needs to change. Especially since he saw how the Rock/Power Revolution happened since order took too much control of the systems.

Yaga can also be a moth elemental since his surname kanji means "night moth"! Who creates dolls like how silk is made from silkworms! And he learns to make robots. And becomes a dad to many of them like Brute or Panda. (Yaga leaving after divorce and powers is such a cool take) AND SP//dr YESSSSSSSSSS (Would SP//dr look like the SP//dr mech or a spider? Or a cat?)

MimiNana are also finally here!!! Suguru also taking half the kids in the custody fight/j (Also gravity powers sound so cool!!! And Mimiko having controlling powers or Nanko having tech powers!!!!)

Mechamaru is still disabled. Oh good/j (Love his powers! Such a unique take!!! Bet robots are afraid of him) (Oh shit Margo. Does that mean... bit can go into another robot body and be immortal if desired?)

Kirara and Kinji being NB4NB YES! (I see Kirara as nonbinary transfem, and Kinji as just nonbinary or nonbinary! And they are very queer.)

Weapon Ijichi. Just being mistreated by everyone in general. King just wants a break. But save the world.

Nitta siblings YES!!! (Maybe they can have clock internals like Matvey, but barely show their elemental side?)

I LOVE ALL THE HCS!!!

Glad you liked my ideas! Wish I could have answered this sooner! But here I am now at least lol!

-If Rika is alive, then she would still love Yuta, I don't want to change that, so she wouldn't have rejected him. So having her move away is definitely something I can see happening and Yuta ends up making a Rika entity clone lol (maybe Nobara does the same for Saori!).

And yes! That was the reasoning behind Yuta having a similar power to Suguru! Because I made Suguru's ability before knowing anything about JJK and how Yuta can copy abilities, I had to try and make a copying power that was unique to Yuta. Them both having copy-like powers just makes Suguru having beef with Yuta so much funnier to me lol (also yes, basically Ben 10 Yuta!)

-Toji may have gotten defeated, but he was still real close to killing Satoru and Suguru (and possibly others) and failed to kill Riko. So he definitely did still make an impression on everyone (still probably is the spark for Suguru's descent later on).

And yes, he ends up being taken on by the entities who either wake him up from his coma, or he wakes up and willingly goes to them seeing as he's been gone for so long and no longer has a place in Megumi or Tsumiki's lives.

And yes! Megumi and Tsumiki are here! Megumi is a shadow elemental, was thinking of a liquid shadow elemental. I have yet to actually decide if Tsumiki has powers yet or not, but she might be a powerless elemental, perhaps also a shadow elemental with just her hair being kinda see-through at the ends?

Most likely Tsumiki is not going to be in a coma at all (since Toji is put into one) but I don't know what i am doing with the Culling Games at the moment. If I do end up doing the Culling Games, then it's less like possession and probably more like Harmonic Convergence from the Legends of Korra and people just got new powers and perhaps Idle Transfiguration is still used causing a lot of people with elemental parts of them to be changed to come out (but in a natural way that won't kill them like how Mahito was doing it).

Definitely still need to work on THAT part of the story, but so far I do not have any plans to put Tsumiki in a coma or have her be possessed (though that could change depending on how I deal with Sukuna, Kenjaku, and Medusa).

Also, I like the idea that Tsumiki and Miwa become friends as powerless elementals whose element shows mainly through their hair! :D

-I wasn't actually planning on Gakuganji being a fighter in the revolution, I was gonna have him be kinda on the "neutral" side but because he couldn't decide what to do.

But I think I like the idea that he was in charge of keeping the instruments safe and Hobie needed/wanted their guitar for the fight and so had to fight Gakuganji. A little one-on-one fight that Hobie won though I think Gakuganji was holding back as he didn't really want to fight? Or maybe he did go all out but Hobie still beat him (Hobie would have beat him either way).

Anyway, yes, he definitely does end up changing for the better which Satoru ends up seeing which is why sky offers a job to Gakuganji at Jujutsu Tech (have I ever used sky/skies pronouns with Satoru here? Because I am using blue/sky pronouns for Satoru now lol).

-And yes! Yaga is a moth elemental! I forgot to point out that detail when I was talking about him (as that was the first details I talked about on DA with someone which got buried by his backstory lol).

But him creating dolls with silk is such a cool take! Definitely something I will trying to use/incorporate! Him being a parent to Brute like he is to Panda probably isn't going to be the same, mainly because Brute is a robot while Panda would have been a sentient bio-doll? Or a doll that can grow and change all on its own like how bio-tech can do. Brute would have been a robot that just gained sentience quickly because of Yaga creating him, though having Brute and Ada show up at JT because they want to see/talk to Yaga could be a cool thing to explore!

As for SP//dr, Yaga created it as a cat plush for Peni, not meaning to make it come to life. Why it's name SP//dr idk, perhaps it was a project name Peni's dad was working on and kit decided to honor him by naming the doll SP//dr. But it is a cat doll.

-MimiNana yes! I so wished we got to see more of them in the show, so I will be giving them as much time as I can in the Eriverse lol!

Also, the whole reason I wanted to give them natural gravity powers is so they would be forced to interact with Kenjaku who still has gravity powers from Kaori. Suguru giving them other powers was so he could be confident they are strong enough to protect themselves (and to get them to stop complaining about having to spend time with Kenjaku /j).

Kinda like the idea that Suguru doesn't have any gravity powers in his arsenal at all (Kenjaku refuses to let him copy his powers) so he has to let Kenjaku teach the twins gravity manipulation (since Suguru isn't really close with Satoru or Nova at the moment).

-Glad you like my Mechamaru take! He's definitely been a struggle for me to actually write because I did want to keep him disabled so I had to make a reason why Mahito couldn't just magically fix him, so I'm happy you like my solution!

His powers are kinda confusing but fun to play around with! So glad I know about someone like White Diamond because that is literally the best way to put his powers. As he is in full control of his body as he controls his robots, meaning that the more robots he has to use, the more focused he has to be otherwise he will lose track of things (just as White said she has thinned herself out when taking over the other diamonds and crystal gems).

As for Margo and being immortal. Kinda. She definitely needs to get inside a robot with NO AI as quickly as possible for a permanent host, if the robot has AI then bit can't stay in there for long. Margo can't destroy AI at all, only suppress it and take control for a while, so byte actually would need an empty robot like Mechamaru's robots in order to actually stay inside the robot.

If Margo can't get to a body/thing to possess quick enough, bit will die if bit loses bits body. Unlike Sukuna, who is alive in the Collective Unconscious and Collective Conscious, Margo can't stay suspended in nothingness and needs a body, preferable one that is like 1010 who can eat and sleep as Margo is still human and can't live as a true robot (not eating or sleeping, just charging) for extended periods of times, so she'd need to take over something quickly as a quick fix until she can get her hands on an empty robot body that is made of mostly biotech.

Peni on the other hand CAN destroy AI directly but usually has to work to do so (sometimes kit can do it accidentally which is why kit doesn't really like fully taking over robots and would rather enhance them with kits powers or share the space with manipulation or influence them to do what nya needs/wants).

Mechamaru on the other hand, if he goes into a robot with AI, he will automatically wipe out that robot's AI and turn them basically into a shell that he can use. I don't think he can just pop into any robot at any time, perhaps he needs the robot or himself close enough to do the transfer, but he can still do it to any robot.

He probably can even do it to cyborgs like Neon J or the Vandelay bosses who are heavily cybered up, which is also a fucking terrifying ordeal (though they could possibly fight back with their human part that is connected with their cybernetics, but if someone like Neon J, whose body is his life support, loses the fight, he is dead).

Heck I think he'd potentially be able to take over tech entities like Miku or Caine (TADC) but it would not be an auto-wipe of their AI/mind like it is with regular robots. It would be an entire struggle like how psychics have with each other of who is the stronger psychic, but in this case it is who has the stronger control over the tech being fought over (and perhaps Mechamaru can only do so with his human body, as he needs full concentration to take over a tech entity so using a robot to get close wouldn't let him win, so him taking over a tech entity is very low given the state of his body even after he gets slightly fixed by Mahito).

I really love talking about Mechamaru I think. He's definitely gonna be someone who helps connect the robot side of things into the greater picture of the story like how B2J and Chai also will with Robot City.

Oh! But yes! Robots who know of Mechamaru and his power (as well as cyborgs and tech entities) are definitely afraid of him!

-Kiara and Kinji NB4NB my beloveds! They are the new queers on the block who look like a cishet couple! Them, Miwa and Mechamaru, and Bunny and Rei need to hang out lol.

But NB transfem Kiara and just NB Kinji, I love!

-Fun fact about weapon Ijichi! When he's in his human form he uses he/him pronouns, and when its in its weapon form it uses it/its pronouns! So Ijichi has alternating pronouns depending on what form he is in! I don't know why but I really loved that idea a whole lot and wanted to make that known!

But actually, I love the idea that Ijichi isn't as comically hurt in the Eriverse as he is in canon. Like he really is a big deal and helps out a LOT and it shows a lot more in the Eriverse than in JJK canon (like we KNOW he helps out a lot in canon, but he is treated as a joke).

His veil powers and powers as a weapon really help a lot (especially once it and Satoru work together in a fight with it boosting it and skies powers!), but not only that, but he is going to be vital in helping people mentally who have been transfigured by Mahito as I see him as being a licensed therapist (helped paid for by Satoru).

See, the reason Ijichi uses interchanging pronouns is because he took a LONG time to separate his worth as a human as its worth as a weapon. Because he went through that, he is now going to help people who have been changed, feel like they are only tools, and other things where people feel less than human because of what they are/have been treated (even after the timeskip Purl could use this therapy as well).

So Ijichi is going to be playing a much more important role in the Eriverse than he does in the JJK canon (I find it so funny how I make smaller character super important and yet I am still struggling to give someone like Sukuna importance into the story lol).

-Oooh! Clock internals sounds so cool! Shoko just trying to give one of the Nitta siblings a checkup and when it puts the stethoscope to their back it goes "You know you are ticking right?" lol

___________

Anyway, glad you like all my headcanons! I keep adding more and REALLY need to condense them all into one space and yet I have not done that at all lol. Glad you like what I got going on! It's become a lot more fun to think of the story and stuff recently since I can just jump from one plot point to the next when I get bored or stuck on something! (I keep jumping from Sukuna because that bitch is being annoying and not helping inspire me, at least I know how he survived for like centuries now).

[istj-hedonist]

Hey, it's been a couple of years since I've last been on tumblr and been in the MBTI sphere. It's nice to see you still active! Last I saw, your description said 8w9. I was wondering what sparked the decision/realization that you're a 9w8 instead. If there's already a post about this, I'll gladly read it, but I wasn't able to find it. Was it slow and gradual & always a consideration, or was there one thing that really made you rethink? Thanks!

I've wrote a short post about it before but it's already a few years old already and buried beneath other crap i guess. I can't recapitulate the exact moment of realization. But in hindsight there were a few misconceptions that lead to the mistyping in the first place and lifting these while simultaneously becoming more honest about myself then lead to "what if i'm 9 after all??" pondering first and then "oh shit i -am- a 9" second. (so yeah more gradual and not one big eureka-moment)

underestimating 9s' and 1s' anger. there are certain themes that somehow only get attributed to one type in a triad even though they are transparent in the other two types as well. for example only 3s being called out of vanity, but missing out on the super obvious vanity of 2s and 4s. or only 6s being seen as paranoid nervous wracks while 5s and 7s are actually equally paranoid. likewise only 8s get the attribute of "the angry type" when 1s and 9s are actually on the same level.

being more aware about lesser influences; the wing being more obvious to yourself than the core. similar to how we are usually more aware of our tert and inf functions because they are still "newer" to us and we haven't become so accustomed and blind to them yet.

9s being about "harmony and avoiding conflict". the majority of 9 descriptions have a soc Fe spin to them and just recently I've been told that there are still plenty people out there who think IxFPs can't be 9s because Fi is too selfish to be a 9?? like, where is that idea coming from? 9s got to be the misunderstood type next to 2s because many people fail to see obvious selfishness in accommodating behaviour. (i think i made several posts going in detail about that topic)

making excuses for (dis)integration lines not fitting. really when it comes to that topic i should have used occam's razor but instead i was needlessly overcomplicating things. i should have realized sooner that i go into 6-mode during stress is not because "well i'm a Si-dom and Si + inf Ne mimics 6-stereotypes :)"

delusional idolization. a bit like "oh wow 9s are great, I love 9s, there is no possible way I could be as cool as one ;)". not much to say about that lol.

most of these are beginner mistakes and if you look back like 95% of people on typology tumblr made them. from all the "8s" you had back then only Sarah survived as the one true 8w7 (although she got her instinct wrong and is actually a sx/so and not a sx/sp), everyone else turned out to be either a 1, 3 or 9.

[anon-e-miss]

Primus Help the Outcasts, 7

It took an orn before SPS came. Prowl felt too weak to even shudder when Punch knocked on the door and explained who had come. He opened the door for them, failing to cooperate stood to cost him as much as compliance could.  They had enjoyed an orn of peace before the agency had come and Prowl supposed that was more than he should have expected. Punch scowled at the backs of the femme, an enforcer, and the mech, the inspector. Prowl felt marginally better for the support, only marginally though. It did not seem to please the inspector or the enforcer but Punch lingered as they made their introductions. A report had been made, etc. Concern for the mechlings, etc. There was nothing to do but let them in. Standing was too tiring, however and once they came inside, Prowl returned the couch. Thanks to Jazz and his procreators, there was fuel in the pantry and the dispenser and the mechlings had berths with rumbled blankets. Prowl was not inclined to harangue them over making the berth.

“Where are the mechlings?” The inspector designated Heavyfoot asked.

“Downstairs,” Prowl replied. “They are playing with our neighbours. The Twins are their friends.”

“I can fetch’m,” Punch offered.

“I do need to see them,” Heavyfoot said.

“Thank you, Punch,” Prowl said. For a few moments, he was alone. The inspector looked around the living room and kitchen. There was nothing to find fault in. Prowl told himself this again and again.

“O’gin?” Bluestreak asked with an anxious whine when he saw the intruders. He rushed to the couch and crawled into Prowl’s lap.

“Everything is fine, Bluestreak,” Prowl lied. “Heavyfoot is here to ensure you are healthy.”

“Whatever,” Smokescreen said and he walked right past the inspector to join his brother and originator on the couch.

The inspection continued along the same vein. Prowl stayed on the couch as the habsuite was documented. He did not know what was going on in Heavyfoot’s helm. There was no fault to be found in the habsuite. They had everything a sparkling or youngling could need and he had Jazz and his procreators to thank for that. Knowing all of this did not ease his anxiety all that much. It seemed to him like Heavyfoot was digging to find something he could find fault in. Smokescreen bristled when the inspector examined the shrine their little family had set up together that first mega-cycle. The enforcer, designated Chromia, watched without speaking. Prowl found this silence suffocating.

“I’ll just need to speak to the mechlings, one at a time,” Heavyfoot said. “Alone.”

“Not a fragging chance,” Smokescreen replied. He tucked himself into Prowl’s side.

“This is important, Smokescreen,” the inspector said.

“I am not going into a room alone with you,” Smokescreen hissed.

“I can sit in as well if that makes you feel safer,” Chromia, the enforcer, finally spoke up. Smokescreen boiled over, EM field exploding in all directions.

“You think being stuck with two of you would be better?” Smokescreen asked, full of indignant anger. “There were three of them.”

“Settle down, mechling,” the enforcer said.

“Frag you,” Smokescreen snapped back.

“Language, Smokescreen,” Prowl cautioned. He held Smokescreen and Bluestreak in his arms. “You will not win this particular battle, Heavyfoot. Smokescreen was molested by a trine in Praxus. Bluestreak was forced by others to observe the massacre of our home. They are not comfortable with strangers.”

Heavyfoot was not pleased in the least but faced with two shutdown mechlings, he had no choice but to ask his  questions. Prowl was offended by them but did not so much as vent to signal his displeasure. Thank Primus, Jazz had insisted they write a formal lease. Twelve quartexes had been marked as prepaid. Providing this to Heavyfoot gave Prowl a little comfort. He could prove his creations had housing. He could prove they had fuel. Though he had paid for none of it, Jazz insisted it was all his. Bluestreak refused to give more than one glyph answers. He was a chatty mechling with those he was comfortable with but he was almost mute with strangers. Smokescreen answered but his contempt for the inspector was not remotely hidden. When asked, Prowl provided their school reports. There were no faults to be found in them either, both his creations were doing well in school. Imagining the reports from Iacon might be petitioned for later, Prowl provided them, along with the reports from their school.

“I want them seen by a medic,” Heavyfoot said.

“I will make an appointment,” Prowl replied.

“I need a report from the medic by the end of next orn.”

“Where shall I send it?”

They left. Prowl released a slow vent and gave his creations a long hug. He was not unhappy with the suggestion his creations see a medic. Having regular physicals was not a negative at all. The mechlings did not have a primary physician, but perhaps Jazz could recommend one for them. Smokescreen might be difficult to convince to cooperate but a basic physical did not require too much servos on exam. They would talk about it. Prowl would prepare him for it. Together, they would find away. There was a knock at the door and Smokescreen peeled away from Prowl’s side. Before Prowl could set Bluestreak aside, Smokescreen walked to the door.

“Hey, Smokey, y’all good?” It was Jazz.

“Yeah,” Smokescreen replied. “He snooped everywhere and asked a bunch of stupid questions.

“He is trying to make sure I can look after you,” Prowl said. “I really have not been. Not well.”

“You’ve given us everything, O’gin,” Smokescreen said. “You’d bleed your frame dry to fuel us.”

“He wants them to see a medic,” Prowl explained to Jazz. Smokescreen lovingly brushed his crest against Prowl’s and sat at his side again. “Can you recommend them?”

“Lifeline takes care of the Twins,” Jazz said. “She’s got a good way wit’em. I’ll give ya here ID, ‘n put in a good glyph for yer mechlings.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you two wanna stay up here wit yer ori?” Jazz asked.

“Yeah,” Smokescreen said. “Maybe we can watch a movie?”

“Of course,” Prowl replied.

“If the Twins want to come up, they could watch it with us?” Smokescreen offered. “If they want to leave their game. That’s okay, right O’gin?” “They would be welcome.”

Jazz smiled. Less than a bream later the mechlings returned carrying large bowls of popped gears. Prowl had not spent much time around them. They were energetic mechlings, good friends to his creations. By speaking to their progenitor, they had put all this into motion and Prowl was grateful for their generous sparks. When the popped gears were finished, Sideswipe ran downstairs for more. Dinner would not be so long, but the mechlings had good appetites. His could not get enough. Sideswipe returned with the bowls filled and a message from his grandprocreators. As with every mega-cycle, Prowl and his creations were invited to dinner. Prowl knew it was not a summons, not like his progenitor might have done, but he did not feel comfortable declining. Though he worried they were too generous. Maybe, he did not want to decline either. These mechanisms had saved his family. They were good to his creations. They were a tie to his originator. No, Prowl did not want to decline.

It came as a bit of a surprise when the Twins stayed through three movies. They jostled each other, they snickered, they laughed and they lured Bluestreak off Prowl’s lap with their laughter. Prowl felt much better when Bluestreak laughed. Smokescreen made a mellow dramatic sigh when Sideswipe begged for the last of the popped gears. The youngling handed the bowl over with a grinn. These mechlings brought Smokescreen out of his shell just as well as they did Bluestreak. Jazz knocked when he returned. He always knocked. As there were still a couple of breams left of the movie, he lingered. His presence did not disturb Prowl.

“Wash,” Prowl ordered and the mechlings bolted together for the washracks. Jazz chuckled at their antics.

“Ya a’ight?” Jazz asked. “If ya need references for SPS, ya got ‘em.”

“I think he came expecting an empty fuel dispenser and some rags on the floor for a berth,” Prowl replied. “He was not happy that Smokescreen would not speak without me present. I do not believe he appreciated the implication behind Smokescreen’s discomfort.”

“Mechling’s got a right not to trust,” Jazz said. “Those mechlings got right not to trust.”

“He trusts you,” Prowl said. “He doesn’t flinch around you.”

“I realized somethin’d happened to ‘m,” Jazz replied. “So when we started out wit the cyber-violin, I talked ‘m through how to hold the instrument. He knows I ain’t just gonna touch’m. I ain’t gonna make some excuse to tough ‘m.”

“Thank you, for respecting him.”

“Scrap, he deserves it,” Jazz said. “The Feast starts in two mega-cycles. I hope ya know y’er welcome to join us at our shrine ‘n at the table. I thought ya might wanna start at yer own shrine.”

“Are you sure we would not be intruding?” Prowl asked.

“Ya couldn’t,” Jazz promised. “Ya know the Twins want ya there. My procreators wanna fill chests for yer family.”

“Oh,” Prowl said. His spark quivered. It felt like too much. It was too much but was his pride was not greater than his love for his creations. “I cannot give them anything.”

“Y’ve given ‘m everything,” Jazz replied, gently. “They know it. They see it, Prowl.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said.

The mechlings reappeared and they all descended to the bottom floor for dinner. Sprocket declared he had baked an oil cake for dessert and warned the mechlings to leave room. Fuel was a love language for these mechanisms, both making it and sharing it. Prowl took his seat at the table, with his mechlings at his side. Punch served everyone before he served himself. Rumbler transferred an acicular ball from his plate onto Punch’s. It was such a simple act of love, one Prowl could not have imagined his progenitor demonstrating. Lodestar had not loved Camshaft, of course. If he had felt anything for his sparkmate before his great act of treason, it would have been indifference. Prowl knew the only thing Camshaft had felt for Lodestar had been disdain. He had learned to loath his progenitor. The mega-cycle Lodestar had struck Bluestreak was the last time Prowl had seen or spoken to him. When Praxus had collapsed above their helms, Prowl had been emotionally so far removed from his progenitor that he had not felt his loss. There had been no bound to snap.

“Smokey here said rust sticks were a favourite of yours,” Sprocket said as Jazz cleared table with Smokescreen’s help.

“Yes,” Prowl replied. “Since I was younger than Bluestreak.”

“Perfect,” he declared. “Oil cake is rust flavoured.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Prowl said.

“We figured ya could use a pick me up after that inspector came ‘round,” Punch explained.

“Nosy aft,” Smokescreen grumbled.

“He did his job,” Prowl replied. “I do not enjoy being under his scrutiny but his job is important.”

“Y’re more understandin’ than I am,” Punch declared. “I got more ‘n half a processor to deal that so-called Priest some payback. No reason for SPS to come lookin’ here.”

“It’d be deserved,” Jazz replied. “He put servos on Prowl. Probably on other vulnerable mechanisms. He’s due to get his.”

“How’re we gonna get’m?” Sideswipe asked. Prowl flushed as Bluestreak and Smokescreen looked to the Polihexians, something akin to energon lust in their fields.

“We’ll let the law get’m, Sweetspark,” Rumbler said. “Mech like that care a mighty lot for their reputations.”

“I have no evidence,” Prowl offered.

“Ya got me,” Jazz said. “In my image captures. After we get the story to the press, ‘m bettin’ we’ll get mechanisms comin’ outta from every corner to tell their own stories.”

“They will not care,” Prowl said. Not about him, was left unspoken.

“They will,” Jazz said. “Since I intended to make a Primus damned nuisance o’ myself til they do.”

[nonbinarybrainstorm]

Hi. Me again. If this is ok: KnockOut/Dreadwing (TFP) where KnockOut loves being taken by a big mech and Dreadwing needs to let off some steam. (Again, not romantic or fluffy; just two mechs having fun and easing stress with rough but consensual sex) (again, if I've asked for stuff outside of your rules page/I've misunderstood your rules page, I understand if you just ignore this; just let me know if I am annoying you with my asks in any way so I can change)

Enjoy!

Dreadwing’s anger was beginning to boil over and his plating feels tight on his protoform. What was worse than the failing state of the mechs around him was the wait, the wait for his chance to do something, anything. Vehicons left and right step out of his path as he stomps through the corridors, racking his processor for some way to alleviates his mounting stress. Then, in the corner of his optic, he sees a lithe red frame sneak into view. Turning to look at the mech, Dreadwing sees exactly who he expected: Knockout. Dreadwing doesn’t address him knowing that he didn’t have the mind for civility right now, let alone the intention to deal with whatever little plan knockout was cooking up now. Everyone thought that Starscream was the true screamer among the Decepticons which only goes to show how superior Knockout is to him, sliding through each tense encounter with ease and not an unskilled fighter at that. A skilled and strong mech who knows how to use every single one of his assets... 

The sharp calculations behind those blazing optics is clear as day met with carefully picked intonations and body posture, a whirling array of in-the-moment adjustment to observation and result. Without truly listening to the words, Dreadwing knows exactly what Knockout is after in the way he glides his hand through the air and drags his optics up and down Dreadwing’s frame. It is nothing of consequence nor is it anything he’d find… objectionable.

“You wish for me to frag you,” Dreadwing interrupts the tirade spilling from Knockout’s shapely lip plates, a solid statement without so much as a hint of a question.

Knockout huffs a soft laugh, almost embarrassed to be caught in his moves… almost.

“You understand me perfectly, Dreadwing,” Knockout praises him with dull optics, an obvious flirtation but there is no need for subtlety now, “So? Interested? You seem like you could use some… relief.”

There was no sense in denying it, the entire ship knew by now to not bother Dreadwing, not in the state he’s in now. Out of pride, he almost refuses but considers it, the chance to really feel and use that enticing frame in front of him.

“Very well,” Dreadwing nods and gestures for Knockout to follow him.

They walk into an empty set of quarters, deserted of any sign of life and Dreadwing locks the door behind them before picking up Knockout to set him on the berth. Knockout lets out a soft, annoyed sound at being handled so roughly and levels a withering look at Dreadwing.

“What? Not even an attempt at seduction?” Knockout crosses his arms.

“If you wanted seduction you should’ve gone to another mech, besides,” Dreadwing rests his hands on his hips casually, unbothered by Knockoout’s haughtiness as he opens his panels to let his spike pressurize, “we both know you didn’t come here for seduction.”

Knockout chuckles and runs a digit down the length of Dreadwing’s large spike appreciatively, “You got me there…”

Dreadwing kneels, moving Knockout’s hand out of the way, and parts Knockout’s legs to give him enough room to move in and lick over Knockout’s panels that open easily for him revealing Knockout’s valve to him. The lubricating mesh is pliant against his glossa as he pushes it past Knockout’s folds and runs it up to Knockout’s anterior node. Dreadwing’s lips meld over the pulsing node and he sucks gently, gaining a gentle gasp from Knockout. Looking up, he meets the burning light of Knockout’s optics that are watching him with a frenzied lust, all of whatever repressed emotions he’s had coming to the front and melting into a very apparent need, the need for release. Dreadwing pushes his glossa into Knockout’s entrance, circling it in a slow, languid motion, enjoying the feel of the soft mesh against his lips so much so, he can feel heat surge to his spike. His glossa is relentless but methodical in Knockout’s valve, making lubricant gush from Knockout as his calipers begin to loosen and heat rises in his frame. Knockout tugs away Dreadwing away from his valve, venting heavily as his plating pings with heat in time with the needy pulse of light in his optics.

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” Knockout tries his usual, sultry purr but it cracks with gasps and light static, clearly showing that Dreadwing is certainly having an effect on him, “I rather we get to the main event already.”

With lubricant staining his lips, Dreadwing rises to his pedes and faces Knockout, wiping away the mess with the back of his hand completely nonplussed.

“I’m not fond of harming my partners,” Dreadwing rumbles, tracing a line down Knockout’s thigh to feel it twitch under his touch, “even when they are so willing.”

His digits reach Knockout’s valve and sink into it slowly, feeling it give but still squeeze tightly around them and pulls them out slowly, dragging a hot vent from Knockout’s lips before slipping them inside again.

“You won’t be able to take me without discomfort like this,” Dreadwing moves his hand as he speaks, grinning at how Knockout pushes down against his fingers, “Been a long time Knockout?”

Knockout huffs and smirks, quickly curling his hand around Dreadwing’s stiff spike while running his thumb over the head, smearing pre-fluid over it with the motion.

“It must be the same for you if you can get so excited just from tasting my valve,” Knockout chuckles lightly and squeezes down on Dreadwing’s spike, earning a stifled grunt.

Dreadwing pushes Knockout onto his back and lines up the head of his spike with Knockout’s entrance.

“If you insist, then I’ll just have to go slow,” Dreadwing mutters as he balances himself on the berth and hooks his other hand under Knockout’s knee.

Knockout lets his legs fall open a bit wider with a self-indulgent grin, “Please…”

With a slow vent, Dreadwing pushes into Knockout, feeling the mesh of his valve give under the pressure of the broad tip of his spike, suppressing the shivers coursing through him along with his building charge. Knockout keens low as he lets his body relax, his sharp digits digging into the berth in his effort to stay as still as possible, the anticipation making his spark thrum in his chest. Dreadwing flexes his hand around Knockout’s calf as he shifts the leg in his hold higher as the ridge of the head of his spike slips into Knockout’s valve, the sudden change in width making him push in further and faster than he intended causing them both to gasp. He digs into the berth to steady himself, venting heavily in deep, slow puffs that cloud the air with steam as he reels himself in, restraining the urge to shove his spike the rest of the way into Knockout here and now. Knockout rocks his hips down, rolling them slowly to push himself further onto Dreadwing’s spike with a lascivious moan that draws Dreadwing in who leans in involuntarily as he grips Knockout’s hips tightly. Bearing his sharp fangs, Dreadwing drags them lightly over Knockout’s shoulder as he grinds into Knockout’s valve.

Knockout tilts his head to one side to let Dreadwing nip and lick at the warm cables filled with the hot energon rushing through Knockout’s lines. With the added stretch and stimulation, Knockout’s valve is wet and giving against the insistent press of Dreadwing’s spike, twitching around it as it fills him completely. Slowly rolling his hips into to Knockout’s, Dreadwing grinds slowly, groaning at how tight the slick, hot mesh of Knockout’s valve is around his spike. Knockout finds the sensitive seam at the cusp of Dreadwing’s wings and digs in his digits, feeling the deep growl Dreadwing makes through his entire frame. Dreadwing pulls back and adjusts his grip before giving one, hard, thrust into Knockout’s valve getting the slim mech to writhe on the berth with a cry, his hands digging into Dreadwing’s.

“Are you satisfied, Knockout?” Dreadwing smirks down at the flushed mech below him.

“Yes, yes, your spike is very big and stuffs my valve ever so nicely,” Knockout rolls his optics before settling them into a glare at Dreadwing, “Now will you just spike me already?”

“So impatient,” Dreadwing tuts but obliges Knockout with another deep thrust.

He works Knockout’s valve slowly, lubricant pushing past his spike with every thrust in, Knockout’s calipers tensing every time the head of Dreadwing’s spike brushes his ceiling node. Dreadwing increases the pace, panting heavily as he watches Knockout bite his lips to keep himself from crying out. Without slowing down, Dreadwing leans and brings one hand up to ease Knockout’s mouth open, meeting Knockout’s curious gaze impassively. Immediately, the suppressed sounds begin to make their way from Knockout’s intake as Dreadwing thrusts harder into Knockout’s hot valve.

“How can I know if I am pleasing you if I cannot hear you?” Dreadwing asks flatly which contrasts with the frantic movement of his hips bringing Knockout closer to the edge.

Knockout’s flushed face makes his grin far more wanton than he probably intended as he retorts, “What? Is that something you get off on?”

Dreadwing slows and lets his spike sink slowly into Knockout’s valve that makes Knockout cling to him with a low moan.

Their faces are very close now as Dreadwing softly rumbles, “Yes, I happen to like to know my partner is enjoying themself.”

“Ah,” is all Knockout can manage as Dreadwing grinds into his ceiling node while plucking at the seams at his hip.

Dreadwing thrusts slow and deep into Knockout who clings to him, his soft cries dragged from his intake with every move of Dreadwing’s hips. It’s almost painful for Knockout, to be so full of spike that his anterior node is practically bulging out, pulsing with aching need and yet the charge being built up is so slow and gradual he feels like he’s melting from the inside. Moans spill out from Knockout’s mouth as Dreadwing continues to slowly thrust into him, never breaking his torturous rhythm, feeling as the pleasure builds higher and higher within him at the slow drag of Dreadwing’s spike over his nodes. He can feel himself reaching overload steadily, gripping Dreadwing’s shoulders to grind himself down on that spike but Dreadwing’s sturdy hands have him locked into place. Too out of it to figure out how to free himself to ride that spike as hard and fast as he wants, as he needs, he’s left at the mercy of Dreadwing’s lazy yet relentless thrusts. Even as slowly as it had been building, Knockout’s overload still catches him off guard, his entire frame twisting in Dreadwing’s hands as he yells out Dreadwing’s name that’s all only heightened by the flood of transfluid he feels spill inside of him.

Knockout collapses against the berth, worn and panting heavily while finding he has to reset his optics in order to turn them back on only to find the very satisfied look on Dreadwing’s face. Spike still firmly inside his valve, Knockout can feel his pride contrasting with the rebuilding charge in his valve with every involuntary spasm of his hips in post overload. In a quick decision, he flips them over so Dreadwing is beneath him, spike still deep in his valve.

“I don’t think my desire has been satiated yet, how about you?” Knockout runs his hand down Dreadwing’s broad chest before pushing him down on the berth earning a low chuckle.

“I suppose I have time.”

[sighmurderbot]

Irish Coffee Chapter Two

Title: Closing Time

Chapter Rating/Warnings: G, I don’t think there’s even any profanity in this one

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: They meet over coffee and Kierkegaard. There was a spark in his honey-brown eyes that drew her to him. There was a sadness behind her bright smile that drew him to her. Spencer Reid/Original Female Character. Slow burn coffee shop meet. Strangers to friends to lovers. This fic is also available on AO3, it’s ahead of tumblr currently!

previous chapter//next chapter

“Friends are those rare people who ask how we are and then wait to hear the answer.” 

- Ed Cunningham

It had been a tiring Thursday, which is saying something. Thursdays were the one day a week I only worked at the coffee shop, just coming in for a few hours to close, meaning it was the closest thing I had to a day off. That being said, somehow the denizens of DC had decided this was the Thursday to descend on this coffee shop and just...be assholes. My head ached from the amount of focus and energy it took to process complaints and orders simultaneously while making drinks and keeping the cafe clean.

It might only be a three hour shift, but sometimes it’s a long three hours.

I finished wiping down the table in front of me and stood, arching my back to stretch it out. 

I’m not sure what caught my attention. A flicker of movement, perhaps, or maybe just the sense of someone else nearby.

I glanced towards the front of the store, scanning the city street on the other side of the floor to ceiling windows.

And there he was.

He looked a little worse for wear, his clothes wrinkled and hair mussed, as if he had only slept briefly and in uncomfortable places. Light spilled from the streetlamp above him, his high cheekbones casting harsh shadows across his skin.

His eyes widened a little as I spotted him.

I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face upon seeing him. He intrigued me, and...I'll admit it, I thought he was cute. The door was still unlocked and I waved for him to come inside. 

Maybe my Thursday is starting to look up!

He seemed confused at my gesture, glancing over his shoulder and pointing a hesitant finger to his chest.

“Me?” he mouthed, eyebrows drawing together in a confused frown.

I rolled my eyes and grinned, quickly making my way to the door and holding it open with one arm. Cool air rolled in off the street, ruffling a few flyaways around my face.

“Come on in!” I exclaimed. “We don’t close properly for another ten minutes.”

He shoved his hands into his pocket, rocking back on his heels a little.

“Are you sure? You-you probably already cleaned everything and I don’t want to be in the way.”

“Don’t be silly,” I smiled. “Just come in, sugar.”

He ducked his head and stepped inside. I watched his shoulders relax slightly as he stopped a few feet into the store.

“What can I get ya?” I asked, crossing to behind the counter. His eyes flicked from the menu to me and he tilted his head a little, as if in confusion. I felt my lips twitch in a small smile.

I wonder what he’s thinking, he looks baffled…

“Sir?” I asked, thinking it was perhaps not a good idea to let on that I overheard and remembered his name.

“Why do you call me sugar?” He asked. His tone wasn’t accusatory or upset, simply curious. My cheeks reddened slightly.

“Well, that’s your order, right? Uh...large mocha with extra sugar?”

He nodded, a pretty frown still wrinkling his forehead.

“You remembered?”

I looked down, chuckling a little. 

“It’s not every day a nice man reading Danish philosophy comes in and is kind enough to talk to me like a person,” I said honestly.

More confusion from the man before me. I worried that I had said too much, scared him off. I serve hundreds of people a day, remembering one customer might come across as creepy or weird or-

He cut off my train of thought as he spoke.

“You think I’m nice?”

The question was genuine, he blinked a few times like he was having trouble processing what I said.

“...yeah,” I laughed a little. “I mean, I obviously don’t know you, but I get feelings about people. My feeling is that you’re nice.”

“Huh,” he said, eyes returning to the menu above me.

“So…” I gently prompted him. “What can I get you? Same thing?”

“Oh! Yeah, same thing please.”

“Have a seat anywhere!”

It only took me a minute to finish making the drink, and instead of calling it out at the counter I walked it to his table.

He looked up as I set the drink in front of him, giving me a closed-lip smile and wrapping long, delicate fingers around the warm cup.

“Reid,” he commented into his cup. I almost missed it. “Doctor Spencer Reid. That’s my name.”

Doctor Spencer Reid. That’s a nice name, I decided.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Reid,” I said with a smile. “Katie, but, you already knew that.” He nodded and looked back down at his coffee. 

“Let me know if I can get you anything else, Doctor,” I said, then turned to finish closing. He seemed like the quiet type who preferred to be alone, or maybe he’d just had a long day.

“Uh, Sp—” he said as I turned around, so quiet that I missed most of what he said.

“Sorry?” I turned around, pushing some hair back towards the ponytail it had slipped out of.

He looked up and his gaze swept over me, analytical and probing. I found myself nervously twisting my apron tie around my fingers.

What is he looking for? What does he see? 

“You wear a hearing aid,” he said matter-of-factly.

Oh.

I nodded silently, my face falling before I could catch it.

What’s he going to say? Berate me? Mock me? My thoughts were perhaps a tad more bitter than intended, and I tried to keep that out of my voice.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, cringing inwardly at how flat I sounded. “I can’t pick up certain frequencies.”

“You know,” he said, taking one hand off his coffee cup as he began to gesture with his words. “The use of hearing aids has actually been proven to reduce cognitive decline and lower the risk of developing dementia.”

What’s he doing? I thought, thrown off a little, but not upset by this turn of events. Is he...trying to make me feel better?

“There was a study conducted in Europe, two out of three people who used hearing aids wished they had gotten them sooner,” Spencer continued, both hands involved in his gestures now. I began to fear for his coffee. 

“They lead to a better social life, mental and physical health, and job performance. So...it’s a good thing. That you have them.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I accepted, watching him with a small smile. He seemed embarrassed after his small outburst.

I gestured to the chair across from him.

“May I?”

He nodded, taking a sip of his sugary drink.

“So,” I said, taking a seat. “You’re studying philosophy but you’re also a doctor. How’s that work?”

If I thought he looked embarrassed a moment ago, he was downright flustered now.

“I, uh…” he fiddled with the cardboard protector around his coffee cup. “I am a philosophy student,” he said. “But I already have my doctorates in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering. And another bachelor’s in Psychology.”

He suddenly fell silent, eyes fixed on the steam coiling out of the slit in the cup’s lid. I couldn’t keep my impressed admiration off my face, smiling as I opened and closed my mouth, trying to process something to say.

After I hadn’t replied for a few seconds he looked up at me from beneath his lashes. He was almost wincing, as if bracing himself for ridicule, mockery, disgust.

Just like you, my mind prompted. 

I gave him a wide grin and set my folded hands on the table, leaning forward a little.

“Doctor R— Spencer. That’s amazing, you don’t look much older than me.”

“I’m 26,” he replied, almost automatically, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

“That’s amazing,” I emphasized. “You’re amazing, that’s a huge accomplishment.”

I watched a light shade of pink spread up his cheeks.

“Oh, uh...thank you,” he said unsurely.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I mean it,” I said, meeting his eyes. “You must have worked incredibly hard for those.”

“Well, I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187 but...college isn’t friendly to 12-year-old high school graduates.”

I gave him an empathetic grimace.

“Sometimes it’s not the course load that’s the hard part of college.”

“You can say that again,” he agreed, taking another sip of his coffee. “I thought you weren’t a student though.”

I pressed my lips together, looking down at my hands.

“Not anymore,” I said shortly.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he said, but it sounded like he was reading out of a book. I didn’t really mind. People don’t understand, they can’t, not really. 

“I’m working to go back.” I don’t know why I said it, why I told him. It wasn’t any of his business, but for some reason I wanted Spencer to know I didn’t drop out because I screwed around, I didn’t want him to think that I didn’t care.

“Everyone has their own pace,” Spencer said. “At least, that’s what my mom told me.”

I felt my breath catch in my chest, and I gave him a small smile that I hoped wasn’t as sad as I suddenly felt.

“My mom told me something similar,” I found myself admitting. “Run your own damn race, she told me.”

Spencer tilted his head, as if asking me to explain. His eyes were fixed on me, I felt almost shy about being the complete focus of his attention, but I also had a feeling that anything Spencer did was the absolute center of his focus.

“It means that everyone has a race they’re running,” I said. “And you should focus on yours, not anyone else’s. If you focus on someone else’s race you’ll probably trip while trying to run your own. If...if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Spencer assured with a small smile. 

“Heh, moms, right?”

I let out a slightly nervous laugh, but something in Spencer’s eyes, an understanding, calmed me.

“Moms,” he agreed with a small smile.

We shared a quiet moment, just looking at each other. His face was too harsh and angular for a man with liquid honey eyes and perfectly curved lips. I wondered where he worked, what stressful career painted dark circles like bruises under his eyes and stripped the softness from him.

“I should close up,” I said finally, regretfully. 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Spencer hurried out of his seat, almost knocking over his coffee but deftly catching it before it could tip too far. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I replied, maybe too quickly, as I stood as well. Spencer arched an eyebrow.

“I just-” I started, then exhaled a laugh and looked down at my shoes. “I don’t get to have a conversation with...well, anyone, very often.” 

I twisted my apron tie around my finger three times, then unspireled it. 

“I don’t really talk with anyone outside of work,” Spencer admitted. He didn’t seem upset about it, it was simply a fact of his existence. 

“That’s kinda sad,” I said, my hand flying to my mouth right after. 

“I’m so sorry,” I said quickly, hand returning to harassing my apron ties. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s okay,” Spencer cut me off with a shrug.

He really doesn’t seem upset, I guess some people are happy that way.

“Well,” I smiled up at him. “If you ever want to talk to someone you don’t work with, you know where to find me.”

He nodded, returning my expression.

“Thanks.”

I noticed how he kept a respectful distance between us, and remembered how he hadn’t offered to shake hands when we swapped names. 

Touch avoidance.

He seemed to notice everything, and with an eidetic memory he’d remember it all, so I carefully filed this away. Even though I might not be able to compare to him on memory, I could still try and remember something important to someone who had gone out of his way to be nice to me.

“Can I walk you out?” I asked, glancing around the room to make sure I had finished closing.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Great.”

I gave him a bright smile.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

I hurried to the back room to grab my coat and bag. A few moments later I returned, and Spencer was still there. For some reason I had almost expected him to disappear, almost as if he wasn’t ever there.

But there he was, tugging on the sleeve of his cardigan and shuffling in place.

“Ready to go?” I asked, tugging my coat around me. It was old, and too big for me, and frayed at the bottom, and I had to patch the elbows last winter, but it was warm.

And it was hers.

Every time I pulled the old blue coat on it was like a memory of a hug from my mom.

Spencer nodded.

“Andiamo!” I exclaimed cheerfully. Spencer’s attention perked.

“You speak Italian?”

“A little, you?”

“I’m passable.”

I grinned. 

“I’ve only spoken with you a little, but something tells me you’re a sight more than passable.”

Spencer cracked a smile, ducking his head to hide his pleased expression.

“Maybe I’m closer to fluent, but I’m not there yet.”

I made my way to the door, hitting the lights on my way. The shop fell into darkness, the only illumination the emergency lights and the city ambience outside. 

“It was really nice to meet you, Spencer,” I said earnestly as he joined me on the sidewalk outside. I locked the door and gave it a rattle to make sure it was secure, then turned to him. He tipped the last of his coffee down.

“It was nice to meet you too, Katie.”

“I’ll see you around?” “Yeah, probably.”

He raised the now-empty cup.

“You’re the only one who puts enough sugar in,” he joked, and I laughed with him. 

Raising my hand in farewell, I set off to catch the bus and he began walking the other way. Once I reached the corner I glanced back at the tall figure, passing in and out of sight under streetlamps as he drew further away.

When was the last time I talked to someone who wasn’t a coworker? I wondered. No time was easily coming to mind and I grimaced. It wasn’t easy to maintain a social life while working three jobs.

It’ll be worth it, I assured myself, Friends can come later, I need to do this.

I was dedicated to my goal, and I’d stick to it, but deep down I was hoping to see the handsome Doctor Spencer Reid again. 

A friendly, casual acquaintance. It’ll be nice to see a friendly face every now and then.

And that’s truly all I hoped for, for now.

[sincerelyreidburke]

Ok wait so that stupid post about me wanting to marry the insanely cool Reid Burke actually makes me want to know: how does Reid's life play out? We know he becomes a comedian and goes to Sp*ncer's wedding, but what else?

I was in such a Reid mood the night you sent this ask that I almost wound up answering it straightaway, despite it not being the designated drama club day of Monday. In the end, I had to eat dinner that night, and decided I wanted to write the ask fill when I could actually pay full attention to it— so we’ve waited until now to address this topic.

Here’s the post that sparked this ask. I was going on and on about the forthcoming drama club fic on ao3 (which, by the way, new chapter or possibly chapters tonight), and I wound up shitposting about how I love Reid. Via agreed.

And now we’re here! So in the spirit of it being Monday (not evening, but still Monday), I am going to tell you about Reid’s post-college future. For the curious mind.

You’re right, Via— Reid becomes a comedian, and yes, he does go to Sp*ncer’s wedding for the sole and deliberate purpose of wanting to tell fake stories and get free food. By the way, here’s a fun post about the dynamic between Reid and Spencer, which you will see in more depth in the future chapters of the drama club fic.

Also, this was pointed out to me quite a little bit ago in the comments on the first fic with the drama club characters, but the naming of two characters who interact a lot as Spencer and Reid respectively is apparently a Criminal Minds reference. I don’t actually watch that show. But I thought you should know I’m not doing this on purpose.

Anyway, Reid’s future. Let’s talk details.

- He graduates with honors from Kiersey because he deserves it and I love him. His major is a double, in history and theatre. That’s a weird double major, and screams ‘struggling to find a job’, but who cares. Let him live. And before you roast me for roasting humanities students, I’m a double major in history and religion, so I’m in the exact same boat as Reid and his brethren.

- Before I even talk about Reid after graduation, I want to talk about Reid’s love life, because it becomes relevant when talking about his future. He has the same girlfriend from his freshman year at Kiersey all the way up until they graduate. This makes it sound like they break up when they graduate. They don’t. I was just trying to illustrate that they date the whole time.

- Bri, Reid’s girlfriend, is featured very briefly in this ficlet (which now doubles as the drama club fic prologue on ao3). I think I also had Reid talk about Bri in the drama club ask game awhile back, because there was a question for everybody about whether you’re in a relationship.

- From Missouri with a major Midwestern accent to prove it, Bri (her full name is Brianna) is an art student through and through. She probably knew Lardo, although Lardo was two years ahead of her. Her focus is in ceramics, but she also studies art history, so her future is not only in selling her own art but also in working in a museum/gallery.

- That’s important for you to know with respect to Reid only because I am now going to reveal to you that, even though they are both from the Midwest (Reid is from Wisconsin), Reid and Bri move to New York (City) after graduation. Bri secures a job at the MET because I want her to prosper in her artist ways, while also selling her art on the side, and Reid...

- Oh, Reid. :)

- Alright. The first thing of many things. Reid and Bri have literally no money. They’re in serious student debt, and their apartment is so small that their bedroom is also their kitchen is also their living room, and it’s also not even a clean/nice apartment, so basically: living is rough.

- Why do they do it? For the love of the struggle... nah, because they’re starving artists and this was sort of always their plan.

- It’s true, and always has been, that Reid wants to be a stand-up comedian. Through his time at college, Reid does open mics and even goes off-campus for really small shows at clubs in Boston or Providence or wherever he has to drive to get onstage for ten minutes. Actually, bold of me to assume Reid has a car on campus. Correction. He will Uber. Or get somebody to drive him. I’d say Jhiron, because they’re best friends, but Jhiron is from Philadelphia and also definitely doesn’t have a car on campus.

- So, like, whatever. Maybe someone else who lives in their senior apartment has a car. Or maybe Reid goes through increasingly ridiculous public transit adventures just to get to some random comedy club in, like, Hartford, Connecticut. The point is that he does all of this, because it’s what he loves to do, and it’s his dream.

- Here’s the thing about a dream, especially a dream in the arts. That shit is difficult to achieve. When you enter the real world, even if people all your life have told you that you’re good at whatever your hobby is, odds are you’re not that special.

- Reid knows this. He may be a smartass, and he puts forth this boisterous persona, but Reid is an incredibly humble person. He knows he isn’t special, and that if he wants to achieve his dream, it’s going to be hard. Why am I getting the one song about having a dream from Tangled stuck in my head right now. Don’t let me imagine the guys in the drama club doing a re-enactment of that scene.

- All of this tangential material (though I’m bold to assume this entire post isn’t incredibly tangential) is to tell you that Reid gets to New York after graduation and immediately commences The Struggle of a performance artist trying to make it big.

- As you can imagine, this is a long and arduous process which is only rewarding some of the time. He does, by the way, work a few day jobs (a lot of food-service and minimum wage stuff) while he spends his nights trying to do the comedy stuff.

- Factors against Reid include: the fact that he’s barely squeaking by financially, the sheer probability of having actual success in such a difficult industry to crack, the fact that Bri’s parents think he’s a loser who is never going to get a real job...........

- One time he literally tries to break up with her because he thinks he’s dragging her down, and Bri is like, no. :)

Reid at 3am, feeling sorry for himself after getting home from a club where his set fell flat and it was awful: I’m breaking up with you because you deserve a better life than this—

Bri: No

Reid: ???

Bri: Go to bed and we’ll talk about this in the morning :)

Reid: But we’re breaking up?

Bri: No we’re not :)

*In the morning*

Reid: (wakes up and immediately panics because he tried to break up with Bri last night and how could he be so stupid????)

Bri in the kitchen already drinking her coffee: So are you done?

- Anyway. Reid does the whole struggling/starving artist thing for a couple of years. To his credit, he refuses to give up entirely, even when it gets really difficult. He’s working pretty much 24/7 and it’s a grind.

- Because this is my party and I love him, though, he does eventually get his big break. I want him to work for SNL, actually. I feel like that’s how he really starts getting started. From there, he builds an actual career, and he starts getting noticed, and, well. That’s that.

- He and Bri get married right around the same time he gets that job. They’ve been engaged for, like, three or four years.

- Reid is really good at making people laugh and he’s really gracious about the fact that he gets to do that to make a living. :’)

- Other things: yes, he goes to Spencer’s wedding, which takes place after his big break, because Spencer invites him because he’s famous and Spencer wants clout.

- “Spencer sucks major ass. Why does Reid bother going to his wedding?” Because Reid knows he sucks, and Reid likes to cause problems on purpose. [Insert goose emoji if there was such a thing.]

- By the way, Reid never intends to (and doesn’t) ruin Spencer’s wedding. He just refuses to allow the clout-chasing occur that drove Spencer to invite him in the first place.

- I’ve never actually planned out specifically the idea of Reid and Bri having kids, but I know without a doubt that they would have them. I just haven’t named them, or thought of how many they would have. It’s likely 3 or 4. Reid would be a really good dad. Why am I about to cry right now?

Okay, so for the moment, I hope this satisfies your want for future Reid content. This is so peripheral and meta that I feel very annoying for posting it at all, but in my defense, I was asked. And thank you, Via, for asking, because I’ll use any excuse to talk about the insanely cool Reid Burke.

The ask box is open for anything anyone’s heart desires, no matter how peripheral!

[hirazuki]

So, I finally caught up on... season 2? the movies? whatever we are calling the most recent installment of LotGH: DNT XD

Some bulleted thoughts/impressions under the cut! I’m still in a whirlwind of chaotic emotions, so who knows if these make any sense :D

REU 👏 EN 👏 THAL 👏

Okay, had to get that out of the way XD

That’s it, that’s about as coherent as I can get about him right now. There was an instant spark of “future favorite character” back in S1 simply based on his design and his demeanor, but I now have actual character actions and development to back up my love.

I can’t remember for sure because it’s been *checks* almost two years holy shit it’s been almost two years since I stopped watching the original series with any regularity due to having no time, but they switched the order that scenes are presented in, yes? I don’t remember meeting Hilda in the original yet, nor any of the stuff with the coup d’etat happening. I had left off right after a bunch of flashbacks regarding Galactic Empire nobility, which I didn’t see incorporated here, so I’m assuming they pushed the present-day events up in the chronology of what events/scenes they’re showing. Watching stuff for the first time was exciting :D

Reuenthal + Mittermeyer = best duo combo since the Akatsuki pairs. I never knew I needed to see two competent admirals acting like gossiping fishwives in my life, but here we are and my life is all the richer for it.

Oberstein is right. About what? Everything. Next.

Walter von Schönkopf continues to be amazing, even showing up 10 min late with not only Starbucks but kisses too, I can’t with this man.

Poor Yang. Let him retire. FREE HIM.

Let’s just skip over the main big event of this season, I’m not ready to talk about that yet I mean, I knew Kircheis would die at some point; he’s not a character who can continue to be at Reinhard’s side story-wise, if Reinhard is going to continue on his set path. It’s like when you kill off the comic relief in a tragedy; it’s necessary. But I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon, like damn. I miss him already T_T

Did I mention that Reuenthal is awesome? He’s awesome. The only silver lining here was that Kircheis’s absence allowed for Reuenthal to take the stage more.

I love all of Reinhard’s admirals (except Bittenfield)  Okay, ngl, I love Bittenfield for what he adds to the story and character dialogue/interactions XD

Jessica T_____T Another one I knew was coming but like :(

It is an extremely odd experience to be watching this at this particular moment in time in 2020. Not that it isn’t relevant to any given point in human history with regards to its takes and nuanced understanding of humanity and human nature, but like. Especially right now. 

Cults. It’s always cults. 

Forever grateful to Yang for retrieving my man Cazerne (sp? is there a consensus? I’ve seen a million different variations XD) from the frontier. He did absolutely nothing wrong, took responsibility for people who didn’t listen to him, and I was worried I’d seen the last of him when he got sent off. 

I love Yang’s whole crew. They are all babies <3

Falk... reminds me of certain personalities I know irl. Very strongly. Watching him is a highly unpleasant experience.

I am so relieved Admiral Bewcock was okay. One of the few extremely capable and rational men in the upper echelons of the FPA military. Protect him. 

The Schönkopf-Julian dynamic? I am so here for it.

I’d comment on the politicians of the FPA, the coup d’etat folks, and the Empire’s nobility, but I’m pretty sure y’all already know my thoughts on all these clowns XD

Super worried, in terms of whether they’ll continue rebooting the series, to see that they kept the same opening; but they had a brand new ending song, by Anly no less, so... tentatively hopeful? 

Animation was stunning, expected no less from Production I. G.

Voice work also, goes without saying. (Haha, Miyano Mamoru has such a distinct voice when his characters go into panic/frenzy; even if he sounds really different while voicing a character the rest of the time, once it goes into that oh-shit spiral of self-destruction mode, it’s so familiar).

Hmm... that’s all I can think of off the top of my head at the moment! 

[inspector-montoya-fox]

#4 - Fire in the Sky

Setting: this is out first snow level in the series, and damn does it set the bar high. let’s ignore the fact that the Panda King’s turf is an illegal scheme, and describe the hubs as serene. lanterns and cherry blossoms prevail. the pagodas make for excellent progressive gameplay, as we gradually make our way to the top. this is the episode with the most variation in gameplay: standard platforming, hover blaster, covering for Murray, racing, running away from Carmelita. but it doesn’t feel like too much, unlike Vicious Voodoo. i think it strikes a good balance because of how huge the platforming levels are. i’ll get into more detail about this point in the Characters section but China is the only setting that isn’t extremely affected by the baddie. for Sir Raleigh, everything was metallic, grand and elegant; for Muggshot, we were served with a level full of dumpster fires and graffiti; Mz Ruby’s spookiness made every level feel like a nightmare; but the Panda King doesn’t affect the location. sure, there’s the Panda King gate at the beginning or the flame pattern every now and then, but in general, this is China, not the Panda King’s China. i honestly love that. oh, and y’know, Fire in the Sky is purple, enhancing the tranquillity of the episode.

Characters: i’ll be real with y’all: Panda King was kinda meh. maybe it’s because he came directly after the two legends that were Muggshot and Mz Ruby. we have a character whose main trait is being angry enough to spark fires from his palms, but that’s all there is. other than that, he just mumbles his words. Sly 3 manages to squeeze some more out of the character by having him self-reflect, etc. but in Sly 1 he’s just an angry goof. despite this, i don’t think he’s a waste or anything. actually, SP did an excellent job of making him this way. Fire in the Sky represents a turning point in the game (more on that in the Themes section). as i’ve mentioned, the previous three episodes were defined by their villain, the landscapes predominantly designed after the baddies’ personalities; here we get a villain whose lacking character. that’s great because this takes the focus away from the Panda King and places it on Sly instead. without the Panda King constantly bombarding our screen with panda items or panda gates or panda fences, we notice other things such as Murray heading into the field twice or Sly’s development (more on that in a sec). so the Panda King plays his part perfectly. Carmelita makes her comeback after we last saw her floating away on the Muggshot balloon. see, her part in Fire in the Sky was what motivated me to write my essay on if the series is misogynist. the woman is just trying to do her job and is instead painted as a hot-headed bitch. Sly tries to tell her that these quaint temples are a front for an illegal explosives factory as if she’s too incompetent an inspector to figure things out. and not only that, but we also shoot fireworks at her until she drops into that foggy pit. it kinda irks me that Carmelita always manages to catch up to the scene of the crime after Sly is done with the bossfight, as if she needs Sly to take down the baddies (and this is seen again in Cold Heart of Hate). that’s why i love SP’s treatment of Carmelita in Sly 2 and 3: she roams the hubs because she’s on par with us, she takes down baddies by herself. meanwhile, Sly's journey towards becoming a master thief is reaching its end (if you were collecting all the book pages along the way). gaining the shadow power truly makes the player feel like a true thief. i don’t want to say that the levels become progressively harder (especially with Panda King being so easy to take down) but necessary skills are needed to traverse the levels and Sly has collected the ninja spire jump, the railslide move, and invisibility, plus all the extra moves from the vaults. his arsenal feels powerful, almost complete.

Themes: oohwee! i’ve been anticipating this moment. Sly’s bubble of naiveté finally bursts when we witness an entire village being avalanched on. up to now, the villains talked about and dwelled over their crazy schemes, but weren’t actually shown doing something bad (relative term). but now, right off the bat, the Panda King kills innocent people and we get to watch it. this is the departure from the jolly ride we’ve had, Sly coming to terms with how serious the situation is. the theme of fire perfectly captures the climax in the game’s structure, because a fire is lit under Sly’s ass. this turning point might be brought about by innocent deaths, but is completely necessary for our protagonist since it’s exactly what he needs to face the upcoming Clockwerk. i’m not sure if he finally gets it, but he certainly isn’t in the same mindset as in the previous three episodes. fire is explosive, hot, chaotic, and that’s this episode’s description. it also comes into stark contrast with the level’s tranquil nature. the snowfall, the ethereal music, the predominant purple: all these hint at China’s Buddhist beliefs on zen (later seen in Sly 3 with the Panda King’s enlightenment) and are “contradicted” by the violence, the fire, and the fast-paced music that plays when you get into trouble. setting plays a huge role in this episode. other than my explanation for dampening the Panda King to pave the way for Sly’s development, i think SP couldn’t really make a China level and overlook the culture. it’s not really a theme, but the culture and the display of ethnography is outstanding. as i’ve said above, we’re truly in China, or at least SP’s makeshift version of the country, the Westerner’s perception of Asia as a whole. it affects the gameplay, nonetheless. other motifs worth mentioning: monkeys, symmetry, and altitude. on the latter two, everything feels exhilaratingly high, perfectly constructed, and clean. i know Sly 1′s design is clunky and chunky, like the animation’s thick lines with sharp edges and corners, but here it works with the level.

What I Like: i can’t decide. the whole episode is a fucking mood. some of you often question why this is my favourite game in the series and to that i say ‘it’s a mood’. the music, the pagodas, the snow, the colouring, the fact that you destroy that huge dragon while Carmelita is on it. favourite detail would have to be the fact that you can kill the training pole monkeys in Flaming Temple of Flame. lanterns !!!!!!! mf lanterns, man...

What I Don’t Like: how Sly didn’t explode when he attached himself to a huge fucking rocket and blasted himself wtf. um, i gave the racing a chance in Sunset Snake Eyes, but it won’t get away so easily here. it feels sloppy: the opposing racers are all the same unlike its predecessor, and the slippery ice patches are a pain in the ass. also, something that always irritated me is a small detail: in Rapid Fire Assault, there’s one part on the conveyor belt where you can use the hover blaster to blast down a hole in the wall across you, but it doesn’t serve any purpose. so why put it there? it doesn’t even give you any coins. like... ugh, what??

Quote: No, that's only half right. I am a thief, from a long line of master thieves. While you... you're just a frustrated firework artist turned homicidal pyromaniac.

[annakie]

-----------

We're back for part two!  Remember the last time how I said....

And after that game... I parted ways with my friends once again.  Because I had tickets... to Critical Role.

Well... not only that, but I was finally meeting @thievinghippo​ IRL to see it!

CRITICAL ROLE (aka Friday Night)

I took off right after the previous game had ended and headed for the show.  My one big frustration was that it took 30 minutes for my Lyft driver to arrive from AROUND THE BLOCK (ok, about a quarter of a mile, but still).  In retrospect, I think he was hoping I'd cancel so he could get a bigger fare or something.  I think he just fucked himself over because he could have done that route twice in the time it took him to come get me.  So I got there with just a few minutes to spare and no time to get in the merch line.  But hey, I found Hippo and met a few other people from Tumblr whose names I recognized!  

It was so great to finally meet her, but we had almost no time to talk beforehand (but when we did, it was all about how mad we still are about Jaime / Brienne and also I tried to catch her up to what's happening in CR since she's pretty far behind.)

The show was AWESOME.  It was so fun to see live!  It was particularly awesome when the entire audience sang along with the theme song (See this video if you haven't yet for those of you not there: https://twitter.com/PhoenixHeart815/status/1157446225223962624 ).  It reminded me a lot of singing along with the Sparks Nevada theme the last few TAH shows, I got a little misty-eyed.

The bad?  It was really really hot in the theater.  At intermission I bolted out to the bathroom and buy cold waters.  I was about to get in the merch line but the lights already started flashing.  SIGH.  I gave Hippo a water and before we could settle in much, the show started again.  I told her my plan for the end of the show, though.

I will admit, my lack of sleep from the previous two nights was starting to catch up with me, and I had no caffeine available to combat it with.  I almost ducked out of the show early because I felt myself nodding off with the heat in the theater masked with the dark of the theater and that the second half of the show was less exciting (but still fun!) than the first.  Seeing the show live was amazing!

Just as Matt said they were ending the show there, I hopped out of my chair (I was in an aisle) and went into the lobby.  I was dying to get a set of the metal dice... and they were sold out of EVERYTHING except the big blue d20 and some pins.  ARGHGHGHGHGH.  So I got the d20, and watched the rest of the show including Liam's very surprising win, on the monitors.  (I'd voted for Liam because I assumed Sam would win.  I was pleasantly surprised at the outcome. :)  Though I love Sam to bits.)

Hippo joined me outside in the lobby early, and we left the theater just ahead of everyone else and she waited and we chatted while I called a Lyft.  She wanted to get out before traffic got too crazy, too, so she took off.  I am VERY MAD I didn't get a pic with the two of us at all.  Next year?!  

Then of course my Lyft driver didn't come to where I was exactly (literally at the Lyft pickup/dropoff designated location) and I had to walk around and look for him and by the time I found him, he'd gotten boxed in so we had to wait in traffic anyway.  Ah well.

At least the freeway was re-opened that night heading back to the airport, and thus, my hotel, for a shorter ride.  I ended up not falling asleep til close to 2.

I loved my evening and would do it all again but that Jeremy and Marcus told me that the Starfinder game they played in that night was AH-FUCKING-MAZING and was literally one of their favorite games of their entire lives, both of them.  It was a multi-table megagame that had a pass-fail condition and would shape the next season of the Society, and I'm sad I missed it while being really glad I did what I did.  Sometimes it's feast or feast, and you gotta pick which awesome meal you want.

I didn’t take many pics, just one as they were settling in after Sam came out in his costume, and one during intermission.  It’s all on Twitch, anyway!

SATURDAY

Oh man, for some really dumb reason we'd scheduled our Saturday morning for 8AM... but it was Starfinder!!  Uh, I will say I consumed more caffeine on that Saturday than maybe any other day of my life.  But it was needed.

What also helped keep me awake that it was FUCKING FREEZING IN THE ROOM.  The game itself was an absolute blast, though.  It was a brutal slog through a dead planet with hostile aliens everywhere and we had to stealth through, collect information and get out.  This was the game I felt the closest to death in all weekend, I'll say that for sure.  But we did it!

The very kind Felice(sp?) who was at the table decided she didn't want to carry her hoodie through the dealer hall, where she was going next, and her husband was working the main table at the Pathfinder room, so she told me to leave it there with him when I was done with it.  Since our next game was also in the Paizo room, I took her up on this offer and was warm and comfy the next few hours.

Our DM, an Operative, and Felice, plus the Hoodie of Warmth +2.

A very rare picture of me, on the internet, along with the guys.

And our next game was our first Pathfinder 2 game!  We were very excited to try out the system, and were put at a table with a father and son duo.  Jeremy and Marcus were excited because the DM was the same guy who'd DM'd their Starfinder game while I was at Critical Role.  

The only bad thing that happened here was that the El Paso Cielo Vista shooting news broke.  I grew up in El Paso, from when I was 12 to 22... it's Middle School through college for me.  Even though I've now lived in Dallas twice as long as I lived in El Paso and I haven't been there in like ten years, it's still... a little bit home.  So I left the table for a little bit to get on Facebook and make sure my friends there were all okay (they are), and text with my mom to make sure a family member who still lives there is okay (she is, though she took awhile to answer mom so we were worried.)  I have a lot of thoughts though, which belong in another post, and I'm still angry and upset about the shooting, even though it didn't affect me personally.  But for now, that's the end of talk of that terribleness.

At our table were a father and ~10 y/o son, who I'm cutting out of the pics because posting pics of minors without getting permission is not OK.  Also, the game was SHORT.  It turns out it was designed as an intro to Pathfinder 2 or maybe even RPGs in general so we knocked it out pretty quick, like 2.5 hours.

One very cool thing that Pazio was doing was that when you played in a game, you got a wooden token that you took up to the prize table, and rolled a d20 + d10.  No matter what you rolled, you got a prize, though most of them were cool little boons for your official characters.  However, if you critted, you got to pick a physical prize from the table.  Well, we played so much that Jeremy and Marcus both critted twice.  They ended up getting ALL THREE Token boxes (like cardboard minis, very nice quality) for Starfinder, plus the Starfinder Beginner's Box.  Pretty sure those four things together retailed for over $100.  Score!

So after the short game, with time to spare before our next game, the gang decided it was Dealer Hall time, literally the first time Jeremy or Marcus had time to go AT ALL.  I volunteered to be the stuff-holder.  After dropping off Felice's hoodie, I found a comfy seat near an outlet that was near the dealer hall and let everyone dump the stuff they didn't want to carry with me.  They came back and left stuff with me, and then after a couple of hours, also brought me dinner from the food trucks.  It was a fair trade.

I also asked Jeremy to stop by one particular booth and pick me up a set of dice I'd decided on, Blue Turquiose stone dice from Metallic Dice Games.  I took some pics of the dice below, though the next day I did have Jeremy swap out the d20 at the booth because I didn't like how some of the faces looked (by far the angle in the pic is the best side, there was too much solid color on the other sides of the die.)  These are going to be my official dice for my 4e character, who is a storm sorcerer reskinned as a druid.

LOVE THESE DICE, can’t wait to roll ‘em.

DM, Dad and blurred-out son.

A blurred-out boy and my guys.

Our final game of the day was the Cypher system, which is made by Monte Cook (one of the original D&D designers).  Cypher is a fairly simple system which mostly just uses a d20 and d6, and the DM never rolls dice.  The original system was made for a game called Numenera, which we'd played the beginner's box adventure for a few years ago but didn't feel like we got a good feel for the system, so we wanted to give it a go with a DM who knew the system well.

Overall, we enjoyed the game, it definitely wasn't "bad"!  But the problem was, we all agreed later, that the module that was being run was the kickoff module for a much longer campaign, there was a huge lore dump near the end and we also didn't really "get" everything that was going on.  

It also had the most memorable ending, though.  We ended the game by trying to escape from a base while being chased by some guys who greatly outmatched us.  My character was a pilot, and we needed to leave via a shuttlecraft.  One of the players who we didn't know was on the "get the door open and provide covering fire so everyone else can get to the shuttle" team.  And then he needed to make a roll in order to also GTFO and get to the shuttle.

He rolled.  Got a 5.  There's a mechanic where you can spend a card that you've collected in order to re-roll.  So he did that, got a 2.  Someone else gave him a card to re-roll.  He rolled a 3.  Someone else did.  He rolled a 5.  I was the last one with a card on the table, so I slapped it down.  He rolled a 4.

It was amazing.  Amazingly terrible rolling.

My pilot already had the craft powered up and was waiting for only him to get on.  I sighed, looked the player in the eye and said...

"I'm so sorry, but my character sheet says that I have a personality flaw.  I'm impulsive and impatient and have a setback to anything that requires patience, concentration or willpower.  I'm not waiting for you."  I looked at the DM and said "I decide that he's sacrificing himself to save us, and take off."

So I left him behind.  

The player was 100% cool with it, we had a laugh about it, and he agreed it was what my character would have done.  So it was kind of a tragic and funny way to end the game.  Also Brian needed to get some sleep that night so he hadn't come to that game, and Marcus left a little early to tend to the family, so just Jeremy and I closed out the night.

DM on the left, players I didn’t know in the center, and one on the right.  The guy in the bright blue shirt in the center?  I killed his character.  Sorry not sorry.

SUNDAY

The next morning, sadly, was the last day of GenCon.  We only had one game scheduled that morning, our second Pathfinder 2 game.  And EVERYONE was gonna be at the game!  

I hadn't even SEEN Gwen or Laura the entire con, and when they arrived at just about the same time Jeremy and I did, we joked that we hadn't believed the others were at the convention.  

We'd hoped that they'd let us put all 7 people at the table (Kirstyn had left late Saturday night to fly home and be at a concert she was playing in.)  They did not.  So we split up "Kids" and "Adults".

Sadly, this didn't work out super well for either table.  Gwen/Brian/Ally's table had a DM they did not enjoy and also a married couple who actually fought with each other uncomfortably at the table(!!).  

We had a good DM, but also an old guy who... I did not like.  At all.  He talked over the DM, even when the DM was explicitly trying to answer a question we'd asked him, things like rules questions on how game mechanics in PF2 had changed from PF1, since, you know, it was a system that had released THREE DAYS AGO.  Also, he was very... helpful... in telling me how skill checks worked and also questioning my decisions on how I was playing my character.  (YES, thanks I did consider carefully before casting Sanctuary on myself, and yes, it WAS THE RIGHT CALL.  I was the only healer in the party and had gargoyles flanking me, THANKS.)

I literally told the guy (as nicely as possible) "Sir, I've been playing RPGs for over twenty years, I'm well aware of how RPGs work, thank you" the second time he told me how skill checks worked as I was adding up my die roll with my skill modifier and took two seconds to do the math. And sure he'd probably been playing for thirty or more but um... I know how to roll a skill check.

After a short break, I told my friends I might need to leave the table.  Instead, Marcus and I switched seats so I wasn't sitting next to him anymore and the DM tried to refocus the game a bit.  It helped me at least.  I just did my best to ignore the guy.  I'm pretty sure he just didn't have the greatest social skills in the world but sometimes my tolerance for people like this can be... low.  His brother was also at the table and seemed okay, at least.  

The game itself was pretty good, ignoring everything having to do with that guy.  After the game the DM thanked me for sticking around and basically empathized that he was getting pretty annoyed, too.  

Not the greatest way to end gaming at the con, but hey, it also could have been worse.  I took pics of that game but decided not to put pics of someone I didn’t like on the internet.

Gwen, Brian and Ally's game ended like 45 minutes before ours (sadly, much to their relief) and they'd left to do one more run through the vendor hall and then left the con to start their drive home.  I had Gwen pick me up a set of dice that... I haven't even seen yet... and they were hella expensive.  I'm kinda feeling buyer's remorse about them right now, I didn't need to spend that much on dice this con but... well, we'll see how I feel when I see them in person.  If I hate 'em, I'll resell 'em.

All weekend long I'd been texting with my BFF from High School's husband, who is also my friend.  He was at the Con as well but doing his own thing and we'd been trying to arrange a meetup.  Well, we finally did it!  He came and saw me, and we hung out for about 45 minutes, just talking about the con, and old times and what we're doing now and the family etc. etc.  So that was great!  I was really glad to see him and catch up.

It’s Richard!

After he left because he had to go help tear down the booth he'd been working at, like the day before, I set up "basecamp" in the same place as before.  I had thought about going back to the vendor hall where Jeremy, Marcus and Laura were, but I'd already sent Jeremy off to ask him to pick me up the one last thing I wanted (the official GenCon dice tray.  I have a Wyrmwood Lacewood dice tray for home use, but wanted a nice travel dice tray.  I had a leather one for Kraken, but I'm real unhappy with Kraken Dice now and wanted something else.  I don’t plan on buying from them ever again in the future.  The official 2019 Gencon tray is very nice, and Jeremy had gotten one the day before, so he picked me up one as well.)

POST-CON

I only had to wait about an hour for the end of the con, and by that time the only ones from our group left were "the adults."  So once we were all gathered back up, the four of us headed out and walked a couple of blocks to a restaurant, which we couldn't get into, so we went to the restaurant next door, the Yard House.  

Wherein we had comically bad service, but they were very nice about it, and also WE were really nice about it, and ended up getting about half our meal comped.  Like our waiter had put in all the drink orders for all his tables to our table, so we had the wrong drinks delivered about five times.  We never got water refills.  Marcus had half a beer spilled on his leg (not even his beer, just another wrongly brought to our table), Laura's Appetizer-as-entree came out as an appetizer.  We asked for more chips for the chips and guac and queso we'd gotten as an app and never got it, etc.  Also while the manager was there assuring us we wouldn't have any more drinks brought to our table we didn't ask for... drinks were brought to our table we didn't ask for.  It was actually hilarious by that point.  

The waiter was brand new (his second day) so we got it.  It was just one of those things.  But they took care of us, we tipped well, it was all OK.

So that was the end of Gencon.  Back at my hotel, which Jeremy and I had long decided we wouldn't stay at again, I'd taken a shower very early Saturday morning after Critical Role.  Sunday morning when I showered again, the water still hadn't drained from the tub(!!) but I was in a hurry and just showered in gross cold water at my feet.  Then told the front desk.

They hadn't even been in my room all day to even clean up the room at all, much less do anything about the bathtub when I got back to my room Sunday night, so I switched rooms.  And then the room next to me had left the alarm clock on, and it went off at 9pm.  And my phone in that room didn't work, so I had to go downstairs a second time to get someone to go shut it off.  Also the AC in that room never turned off, the controls seemed to do nothing, so it was like 60 degrees in there the entire night.  It was actually a relief to leave the hotel the next day.  Next year... we'll pay a little more for a bit nicer hotel.

Annnd.. the next morning Jeremy and I got to the airport early enough, flight was full but not delayed, and had no problems getting home.  Spent most of the day from getting on the plane to going to sleep that night with a massive migraine so I spent the afternoon at home sleeping and drinking lots of water.. but yay... no con crud!

I miss the con, but being back in my own bed with my kitties is all worth it.  Still, I can't wait for Gencon again next year. :D

[jennibeultimate]

Personal recap 4CC 2019 - Men SP

Who would have guessed that Vincent Zhou would lead after the SP?

Me? Never, because he is so proned to get URs that I never thought he would get a pass today, probably being in the US and Nathan not there helped but anyway good SP and much improved artistically compared to last season. The 4Lz3T combo was really good! The PCS seem a tad high though...well...Congrats for taking 1st today!

Junhwan Cha is a stellar performer this season. He really is someone that can be a big contender in seniors. He was very good! Imo he lacks a bit connection to the audience. I can't lose the feeling of a B. Orser bonus...97 points, only 3 points away from Vincent who does 2 quads? Wow!

Boyang Jin...where do I start? Jump problems is something that caused him the lackluster season. So I hope that does not continue, but he was injured and I don't know if he still is. Anyway he loves his program and his fun makes me smile. The golden blades are eye-catching, I am still not sure if I like this distracting thing. On pics it definitely looks cool. Well the score was "low" , not totally unexpected because of the 4Lz mistake, but only 1 point away from Shoma (who wasn't error free at all) although he did two quads and had only one mistake? Shows you that he doesn’t get the massive GOEs of neither Junhwan or Vincent even where no mistakes were in the elements. Btw nice 3A!

Here come my babbling about Shoma:

Shoma 😭❤️

I think Shoma skated very cautious today. Of course he isn't anywhere near 100% having injured his ankle 3 times in one month. 😭😭😭 He wasn't at full pace and the changed layout took its toll and didn't quite work, but what else was he supposed to do? Well maybe not competing, but that's Shoma we talk about and he hardly ever withdraws...I think the score isn't too bad, highest PCS still even if it is only a few tenths, the program is still brilliant but if he isn't on fire it doesn't spark its charme so much.

Shoma is in 4th but not far away from 3rd and Junhwan Cha doesn't quite have the content to surpass Shoma in the FS but with the cushion it could work and the state Shoma is in right now. Boyang and Vincent have a 10 point higher BV than Shoma. That is an advantage to them, without any mistakes and the PCS they get so far😑 they could be hard to catch. So the odds aren't in Shoma's favor, but who knows...I still believe Shoma can make it, but it won't be easy and it isn't all in his own hands. And he is injured, I know it isn't an excuse and he won't use it, but c'mon "loosing" in those circumstances is understandable. Such a shame that always when Shoma is the clear favorit to win he is injured, I have Worlds 2018 déja vu...😢

Go Shoma! I believe in you! ❤️

Keegan Messing was enjoyable! I really like the program. His unusual way of jumping seems to tip him off balance so he can't get the highest GOEs though he was clean. I don't agree that his PCS should be in the same area as Junhwan and Boyang and Vincent. He connects much better to the audience and his performance wasn't worse than them. Hm...

Jason Brown...well Jason I really wanted to get him to the podium...his skating is so beautiful. 😍 But sure if you don't have a quad, the 3A not working, for this skate he came off quite good with 86 points. Hm...right now I just wish for a beautiful FS and the placement surely won't be on the podium...

Keiji Tanaka and Kazuki Tomono just show once again that they have a lot to work on, mainly nerves and consistency, to settle themselves further to the top. Puh...

Sorry ranting ahead...The PCS here at 4CC are quite meh 🤮...because almost same PCS for Junhwan, Keegan, Boyang and Vincent with 42. And only 2 points more for Jason and Shoma. And there are huge gaps between those two and the rest mentioned. And Keiji gets only 40 PCS??? The diversity should be greater. How is it possible all get quite the same??? Seems like judges couldn't decide, but that's not right....and this is why I can't take PCS judging seriously. I hope the differences in the FS are bigger, but so far I doubt it...don't get me wrong I don't think the whole placement today wasn't fair and that points should have been totally different but still you could see favoritism and downplaying and you still can see what is very wrong with the system that if you do a quad your PCS rise too and if you fail a thing the PCS drop significantly. (I know that PCS limit is part of the rule now but that doesn't make it right)

But overall the men (at least the last two groups that I have seen) delivered good programs without falls. Mistakes of course, but no falling in every jump and that's definitely a good thing!

Good luck to all competitors in the FS! May the judges treat you fairly and all the same! 🙏

[tonys-noodle]

My Little Soldier.

Russian is going to be in bold.

The spider-man is the mcu one by the way. 

In a cold climate, a place named Russia. Soldiers were tasked with doing unholy experiments to orphans. They’re first living and last subject is a 21 year old, malnourished boy called SP-117, the young boy was given the nickname “Peter” by a Russian soldier who wanted the testing subject to have a name and a slight identity. The same soldier would soon become his handler. Peter wasn’t the first experiment but he was the first to survive the shots, IV’s, abuse, the experiments. This caused him to be afraid for everyone, even his handler. His handler was someone who gave him is “medication” and his two meals a day. The unholy experiment gave Peter spider genes, but there was so many down falls. Sure Peter could stick to the walls and ceiling, or webbing would come out of his wrists, or his super healing, sure he has super strength but, The down sides were once a day he had to be milked (like a snake milking) because his venom glands were located on the roof of his mouth and when he wasn’t milked, it became extremely painful and swollen. He has small fangs that he can control, but they can do some damage. Peter also can’t get to cold or his body will shut down. Anything below 40 degrees was lethal. 

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

Tony got a heads up about some shady shit going on in Russia. Someone trying to steal Arc Reactor Technology and use it for weapons. “Hey Natasha, wanna come with me to Russia?” Her only question was ‘Why the hell is Tony going to Russia, of all places’ But she went with it. “What the hell, why not.” And they were off to the drunken place so many people call home. It turns out where Tony and Nat was the same place were they were keeping Peter. The place they went to is Creepily called Genetic Engineering and Science. Tony and Natasha would look at each other every minute or so. Could you blame them? They were nervous and had a shared a bad feeling in the pit of their stomachs. That is when they heard a blood curdling scream echoing though out the halls. 13 men in white uniforms ran through a hall way, but not before using their key cards. Not even a minute passed when the heard the screams of the men. Tony ran to the key card scanner and hacked it. When I mean hacked it I mean he punched it until it was sparking. Natasha started following sounds of struggling. The sounds were coming from a room with a code on it. “SP-17”. When they stepped in the room, it looked like a horror movie. The body’s of the men from earlier were dead except for one who looked like they were having a seizure. Tony noticed they all had bite marks somewhere on their body.As tony knelt down he heard the caretaker whisper out “Stay away from the kid,he will kill you.” Tony looked around and that’s when he noticed a young boy and what was written on the boys face was terror,sickness, and shock. “Hey sweetheart, were going to get you out of here. We are the good guys so don’t worry.” Natasha tried to sooth the young boy. When Peter looked even more scared and confused Nat realized something, this kid doesn’t understand English. So she repeated it again but in Russian. Peter nodded but didn’t move. He just looked at Tony and her. “I can't move, i'm too weak.” 

Tony walked forward apparently to fast because when he went to reach forward to pick the kid up, he was hissed at. Natasha had to yank Tony back so he wouldn’t get bit too. He was pretty sure just a second ago the kid didn’t have liquid dripping down his chin, ‘shit how the hell am I going to do this without getting bit’ Tony thought “Fuck,kid i’m sorry but you just bite people. Okay kid I am going to pick you up and take you away from this place, but you can’t bite me.” Peter looked at him and gulped, but despite his fear, he nodded slowly. So to show the young boy that he didn’t mean any harm, he walked slowly and had his hands up at chest level. When he picked the boy up he heard a little growl. “Hey Nat can you look for the kids file” As Tony turned around he saw he Russian spy had a file in her hand. “Yeah I already got it like 5 minutes ago, geez you are a old man.” 

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

During the plane ride Tony awoken to some kind of whimpering, it sounded sad,scared, and wait was that pain? He sat up and looked around. His eyes landed on the boy a few chair rolls away. “Hey Kid is everything okay? Why is your weird dripping again? I thought we were cool.” As Tony tried to lighten everything up, he realized something was seriously wrong. Tony immediately jumped up and rushed over to try and aid the young boy as best as he could. “Shh, it’s okay I got you. You gotta tell me whats wrong.” Peter grabbed Tony’s index and middle finger and put them in his mouth, up against the roof of his mouth. He felt two swollen bumps. when he tried to take his fingers out his mouth, Peter griped Tony’s wrists and put more pressure on the two lumps. “Jesus! Kid if it hurts, then let me have my fingers back.” That’s when more of the kids liquid started coming out. The millionaire noticed the boy looked almost relieved when it came out. This continued until peter was milked dry and Tony’s arm was soaked.”There see? Don’t you feel better?” Tony couldn’t help but smirk because he helped a kid without his Iron Man suit. “Thank you sir.” Peter barely mumbled. ‘Did the kid really just speak? Fuck Yeah! I’m getting somewhere!’ Tony thought to himself.  

[mamasemeraldjourney]

The Seasonal mood that tends to come to many as we have now set the clocks back,its getting darker earlier & just overall even the winter atmospheric pressure has changed (which affects some of us more then others 😅 😒) and there has been an overall down feeling around many I've been able to come out of my hole & talk to the last few days😊

Knowing the days you want to crawl into a hole for a combination of great physical & mental discomfort are exactly the days you SHOULDN'T crawl into a hole & also knowing one of my very best friends & neighbors, Stacey (who friends the good&challenging days just as strongly as I do, we both have i guess an empath side you could say we feel for other's very deeply also) is almost always in a similar funk type of mood at the same time I am, I picked up the phone; although it took me a few extra minutes, physical symptoms were more bothersome then they have been as my circulation seemed so poor, my joints & muscles were painful enough I just kept uncontrollable dropping things. Although, I am learning little signs my body is giving me ahead of time so often I am able to put tbing down before I drop them.

I'm learning to just listen to what my body says it needs, which despite physically feeling worse, I felt a pull of a magnet drawing me the short amounts of steps from my front door to Stacey's front door. The fresh air will be good for me & I knew we both need nothing only the companionship & love of a friend that understands but we both also needed the positive energy thats created whenever we are together. I can say I have always left her companionship in a happier mood the. Before we had gotten together. Before I left I felt the pull to my jewelry bench, I needed to make her a "quick " friendship bracelet.

TWO hours later, after I had realized it was supposed to he simple & meaningful & had therefore lost its purpose sp i walked away git my things ready to head over to her house went back down for my shoes looked at my jewelry bench again and behold two exactly silver alike sun& moon charm. Needles to say the creativity bug sparked no im sorry to report I made it so quickly like it was natural & it was received with more friendship love, gratitude & appreciation then I could've ever dreamed ❤ #yourthepissinmypants we've created as a meme sent that just fit & we've reused.

Today to start of most people's shorter work week with a Thanksgiving break I'll start with today off giving thanks for something each day. Theres always another day to write about the rougher times or medical stuff.

I've really learned to appreciate (again....except im still FULLY learning to wrap my head to accept 100% the fact every single symptom can be traced to some type of autoimmune responses the likely candidates probably depending on genetics but a lot are treated the same way...FOREVER. If you know me at all I cant he physically or mentally immobile it REALLY challenges me to he physically down & unable to do my normal activities.Having to accept you may not ever do some things you could do just a year ago ever again. So there's another day for that)

Today I am SO thankful for my #besthusbandever hubby is suffering watching me suffer. I feel I shouldn't have to hide how much pain I'm in,but knowing and feeling the pain its causing him breaks me when the physical pain doesn't so yes I don't often let on just exactly how bad I feel yet I know he feels. But im thankful for all of it. Just my not wanting to complain about my pain around him it helps me stay positive & believe it myself hence a little less pain. I love him.for everything.

Im so that kful for my 3 wonderful kind caring smart children.

Im beyond thankful & blessed to have two best friends i don't know wbst id do without either of you!

[anon-e-miss]

Primus Help the Outcasts 2

“Sit down, relax,” Jazz said, gesturing to a park bench.

Prowl did not want to sit. He wanted to pace and the curse the world, but he sat. He had not had a proper  recharge in mega-cycles. Not since that first dark-cycle when someone had opened the door to their room and peered inside. He had insisted his mechlings recharge with him since then even though the berth was really too small to chair and the berths were welded to the floor so he could not push them together. The energon was hardly strong enough to burn through the painful static in his battle computer but it was quick burst of energy and he had none.

“Why don’t ya just tell me?” Jazz asked. Prowl stiffened. “I’d rather hear yer take that read that tabloid scrap.”

“I...” Prowl paused as he tried to put his thoughts into some semblance of order.

He drank the pressed energon, less to buy himself a little more time to think and more to ensure Jazz could not take it from him. There would be no dinner for him. If they even had a room to go back to it would be lucky. Prowl could not blame Jazz for this. The priest was not about to suffer a broken servo with any kind of grace. They would camp out under the bridge, as they had the first dark-cycle after Lockdown had thrown them out. What they did after, Prowl did not know. He was quickly running out of options and hope. He only had a few emergency rations left for the mechlings. When those ran out, Prowl was going to have to make a choice, go crawling back to Lockdown and into his berth, or surrender his creations to SPS.

“Prowl?”

“When they found us, they found my Conjunx, my creations progenitor crushed by the vault.”

“That’s heavy,” Jazz replied. “Ain’t yer fault...”

“Oh it is,” Prowl said. “He had scratched his digits to the struts against the door while he begged me to let him in.”

“Ya knew he was there.”

“I did,” Prowl stared ahead. “I saw him on the cameras.”

“But ya didn’t let’m in,” Jazz said, slowly. Prowl was sure he was regretting buying Prowl energon. Too fragging bad for him. “Was the door stuck?”

“No. I watched him lead Seekers to the vault. I watched him enter the access code and I watched him realize it had been changed. The Seekers were not pleased with him when they were denied access to the Core.”

“Ya changed the code.”

“Yes. The Senate gave them the Core. They took down our shield as a sign of cooperation.”

“Ya tried to put it back up.”

“They disabled the power generators. I had full access to the Praxian surveillance network but I could not revive our self-defence network.”

“When did ya know they were gonna bomb Praxus?”

“When the last transports took off and the Seekers followed them.”

“Who was on the transports?”

“Praxians. They transported wave after wave of us. I watched them sort through my framekin. Some they loaded onto transports. Some they locked into warehouses.”

“What were they after?”

“Receptive sparks.”

“Oh frag.”

“Given what Vos has proven itself capable of, Cybertron has elected to be silent on the matter of hundreds of thousands of my framekin being taken into interfacial slavery.”

“Did the Senate know?”

“They knew what the Vosians were after. The transports appeared to surprise them. Crosscut had been surprised when I demanded he explain where the Vosians were taking these mechs. He refused my demands that he call up the enforcers to launch a counterattack.”

“Ya tried...”

“They cleared the precincts before they began processing the general population. By the time Smokescreen and I made it to the Core, there was no one to answer my comms.”

“How’d ya get down there?”

“Where is Bluestreak?” Prowl demanded. The fourth transport had taken off from the city centre. He could not understand how the Senate was standing by as half their population was being transported to Vos. Only Smokescreen had returned from school. Crosscut had not told him where Bluestreak was. He could not abide it.

“The Vosians wanted hostages from the Senate,” Crosscut replied. “He is fine.”

“They have thousands of hostages,” Prowl snapped. “Have you looked out the window? Have you looked.”

“He will not be harmed.”

“Have you no sense?” Prowl demanded. “They are looting Praxus of its mechanisms. They are stripping us of our defence. Why have you not summoned the Guard? Why have you not mobilized the enforcers? How can you just sit here and do nothing?”

“I am buying us time,” Crosscut slammed his fist down on the desk. His personal guard stood to his left and looked reproachfully at Prowl. The femme’s glare did not cow Prowl anymore than Crosscut’s fist.

“Time for what?” Prowl demanded. “How do you think this ends in anything other than the total submission of Praxus.”

“The codes to the Core have been transferred to the Vosian Honour Guard to ensure a smooth transition of power.”

“You gave the Core to the Vosians?” Prowl lunged across Crosscut’s desk and took him by the collar. “You gave Praxus to Vos.”

“Cooperation ensures we retain some autonomy.”

“It ensures nothing,” Prowl threw his Conjunx back. Road Rage helped him up after he bounced off the wall. She glared daggers at Prowl. “You self-righteous slagtard. You are selling the citizens of Praxus in the hopes that can maintain your authority.”

“Someone has to lead Praxus after the dust settles.”

“Where you the one who shot Lord Backfire? Or was that you, Road Rage.”

“Praxus does not stand a chance against Vos. Cooperation is essential to our survival.”

“Praxus stood a chance with the Core. But you threw that away. I am taking it back.”

“You will not,” Crosscut hissed. Prowl had his acid pellet rifle in his subspace and pointed it at his Conjunx and his guard.

“Try and stop me,” Prowl dared them.

“Smokescreen is in the lounge entertaining the Striker Trine,” Crosscut said, coolly. Prowl’s mechfluid froze in his lines. “Perhaps you should assist him.”

“You gave my youngling to Seekers?” Prowl screamed. “We do not even know if he is receptive or contributive yet.”

“You know they say you can influence how it goes,” Crosscut said. Yes. Prowl knew. They said if you filled a juvenile’s gestation tank with enough transfluids their spark would become receptive after their adult upgrades.

“I will kill you,” Prowl promised.

“If you want Bluestreak back safe and sound, you are going to get into line, Prowl,” Crosscut said. “Go on. Maybe the Strikers would prefer a proven receptive to a novice.”

Prowl stormed from Crosscut’s office. Crosscut had his back against the wall, but Prowl only needed some time. He needed to secure his youngling and then he needed to find his sparkling. When he had them secured he would reclaim the Core. Prowl would reclaim Praxus. His spark was in his fuel tank when he got to the lounge. As much as he wanted to burst in, rifle firing, he could not put Smokescreen in the line of fire. He smoothed his expression and stepped through the door.

“Mm now this is a treat,” the pale-faced green Seeker purred. Prowl did not scream, though he saw Smokescreen writhing in his grasp. He did not scream, but walked towards them. “The Senator’s own breeder.”

“Gentlemechs,” Prowl said, letting none of his hate into his field or his voice. “Perhaps you would like some engex?”

“Does the Senator have anything good?” The Seeker asked. He released Smokescreen and Prowl made a silent prayer of thanks. His creation stumbled and around the couch.

“His collection is considered one of the best, Cybertron wide,” Prowl replied.

“His best engex then,” the Seeker, clearly the commander of this Trine, ordered.

“Smokescreen?” Prowl said. “Fetch a bottle of the Platinum Label Sapphire Engex. The vintage, Gentlemechs, is twenty thousand vorns old.”

“Very nice,” the green mech purred.

“Are you sure?” His subordinate asked. This mech was a pale purple, with faceplates as pale as his leader. “Letting the mechling go?”

“I’m sure we can trust him to come back,” the leader said as he caught Prowl by his wrist. It took everything in Prowl not to thrash. “We have his origin here, after all. I’m sure Smokescreen doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him, do you? Mechling?”

“No, Sir,” Smokescreen said, with a hiss of temper. His doorwings twitched rudely. The Seekers laughed.

"Then be quick,” the leader laughed as Smokescreen ran out the door. He smirked at Prowl. It was the only warning Prowl had before he was tossed onto the couch. He tried to right himself but the leader was over him. His claws sank into the plating of Prowl’s thighs as he forced his legs open. “His best engex and his best whore. This is going turning into a good mega-cycle for us, Brothers.”

“He deserved to die,” Prowl said, staring into the distance. “If anyone deserved to die in Praxus, it was him.”

“Come wit me, Prowl,” Jazz said as he stood.

“Where?” Prowl asked, having forgotten for a moment who he was talking to and why he was talking to him.

“Home, obviously,” Jazz replied. Prowl stared up at him.

“You are just going to take me at my glyph?” Prowl asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“No one else has. Crosscut was well liked with his counterparts Cybertron-wide. He one the Novus Peace Accord.”

“Those same mechanisms are ignorin’ the fact Vos botnapped thousands of mechanisms, right?”

“Yes?”

“Yeah, I don’t think ‘m gonna put much stock in their opinions,” Jazz snorted. Prowl could not stop staring at the mech. “What brought ya to Simfur, Prowl.”

“Master Yoketron.”

“Ya knew the Master.”

“I trained under him briefly, in the same class as Lockdown, when my procreators were stationed in Simfur. I was unaware he had been killed.”

“When ya came to the dojo, ya’d just landed.”

“Yes.”

“That sucks slag,” Jazz declared. “Ya know I woulda given ya a place to recharge if ya’d told me ya knew Master Yoketron.”

“I was. I am a stranger.”

“Master Yoketron never turned away a stranger. I wouldn’t be doin’m any honour if I forgot his generosity. Come on. Let’s go home. I gotta introduce ya to my procreators... Frag yer just platin’ ‘n struts, ain’t ya. I thought Smokey was a lil thin, but y’re wastin’. Genitor’s gonna take one look at ya ‘n make it his mission to fuel ya up.”

[cybergutzz]

@smilingheroes YOU MADE ME DO THIS YOU SLY SLY FISH AHHHH I CAN’T BELIEVE I ACTUALLY MADE THIS WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS NFIEOGREAGBERSBEURGBUIRSB BUT OH WELL HERE’S AMAJIKI PROPOSING TO MY SELF INSERT. AGH.  It was like most normal days at U.A. Lyca was trotting over to the dorms of 3-A, the third year students. She had planned to stay there for the rest of the day, until around 10 pm, with Amajiki Tamaki. She had bought all of her art supplies with her in her backpack, because who knew when she might need them, right? the markers rattled in her backpack, giving off sound whenever she took a step. Lyca was never the tallest person, but she could take long steps, and she walked faster than most of her peers. It was always a five minute walk, so of course she had put her earbuds on, and found a good song from her playlist to put on. Quite recently, it had been Machines by Crown The Empire. Even with her careless expression, she felt intense emotions as she walked, just by the tone of the voice who sung. she released a long breath of air, as she enjoyed the slight breeze. it was warm, and the breeze complimented the warmth in the air, making it the perfect weather in Lyca’s opinion.

Slowly but surely she found herself standing in front of the dorm building. this was it. she walked inside and took her shoes off.

Amajiki waited in the common room, where he usually never appeared. Feeling like his social skills weren’t good enough, he usually kept to himself, or his closest friends Mirio and Nejire. Lyca had been friends with Amajiki for half a year now, and while they were just friends, it was more than obvious she had a crush on him. at least according to both Kirishima and Uraraka. Those two noticed everything, it seemed. So much for telling everyone you only liked girls, huh? no it was never just girls, but explaining what biromantic was just seemed like a waste of time. “Amajiki?” Lyca called, raising her hand as a way of greeting him. Amajiki turned his head from the kitchen counter in the common room, and found himself unable to get any proper words out. She was here. She was actually here. “Lyca…” He took small careful steps over to her, and gave her a hug. Despite being the embodiment of Awkward Teenager With Social Anxiety, he had always liked hugs.

she hugged him back, cherishing the small moment. “Do we just… go to your room?” Lyca asked, holding her backpack in a tight grip. “I guess so. You know Netflix right?” Amajiki began walking up to the elevator, and Lyca joined him. “‘Course i do man, are we gonna watch a movie?” she asked, already feeling excited. “Yeah. I’m not very original, sorry…” The boy became self-conscious, and Lyca assured him that watching movies on Netflix was more than enough fun for her. She was never one to enjoy big activities anyway.

Amajiki had brought 3 different bags of chips. Sour cream and onion, Jalapeno chips, and Chashu flavoured potato chips. He never managed to fail when it came to buying snacks he knew Lyca would like. Of course this wasn’t just on Amajiki, Lyca had brought some stuff too. mainly beverages like a big coke and schweppes, but also a few different flavors of pocky, because who doesn’t love pocky? it was oreo and mango flavor.

The blue-haired boy unlocked the door to his dorm room. Lyca had been inside a few times before, but it always amazed her how nice his room was. all neat and always cleaned to a decent amount. a lot of darker colors, but not overshining all the little light details on his shelves. his bed was what filled up most of the room, being quite large. his desk was tiny, but Amajiki had stated that his bed had always been his workspace for homework. Lyca placed her backpack down and zipped it open. she got the coke and schweppes along with the pocky. “What are we gonna be watching?” she asked, somehow feeling too flustered to look at the boy. “I haven’t really… decided.” Amajiki answered fiddling with his hands. Lyca raised her eyebrows a bit, softening her usual expression. “It’s all good my dude, we’ll figure something out!” she gave him a thumbs up, along with a cheeky half-smile. why did her face feel so warm? she wanted it to stop, she really did. what if he was seeing it? maybe that was why he was so quiet in his voice. Lyca tried to keep her cool, but inside she was a constant panic. she hated crushes. they ruined everything.

As she settled down in Amajiki’s bed, the boy went to get his laptop. “It’s been charging ever since i came back, so i think there’s enough power for it to last.” he said, swinging his own legs up. Lyca waited patiently as Amajiki, with hands that seemed to be shaking, began opening the tab to Netflix. Lyca noticed it, but felt too nervous to address it. they had done this before, but the air felt thicker than normal. it was hard to swallow, and Lyca just wanted to be as chill as humanly possible. she leaned back against the pillow that was put against the headboard, and sighed. Amajiki joined her. he was close, and she could almost feel his fluffy hair against her cheek.

Amajiki scrolled through the feed, movies of interest popping up every now and then. “I know you’re not one for action movies, so-” Lyca began, “It’s fine, if you want to watch Hellboy again, I think I’m prepared.” Amajiki cut her off, nudging her shoulder with his own. Lyca chuckled, shaking her head. “No, it’s fine! i just thought about Kung Fu Panda 3? it’s actually really good. You’ve seen the 2 others, right?”

“That’s a good movie… I’m up for watching it again.” the boy seemed to ease up at the thought of watching Kung Fu Panda 3, and his otherwise quite strained expression had turned more relaxed. Lyca smiled, typing the title into the search bar, and they both found themselves watching the animated movie, while simultaneously forgetting about the snacks.

“Time is just an illusion, there is only the now,” Shifu said. Both teenagers had been silent throughout the entire movie, but that one sentence had sparked Amajiki back to life. “what if time was forever?…” he mumbled, thinking about something. “That’d be one hell of a bummer. who would i spend forever with? it’s a pretty long time.” Lyca answered, knowing it might have been a rhetorical question. Amajiki’s face lit up in red, and he turned his head. “I wouldn’t mind… spending forever with you…” his voice became so small and quiet, Lyca had to ask him if he could repeat that, with a slight blush visible on her ears. “I wouldn’t mind spending forever with you…” he repeated, his voice just as small. Lyca caught some of it though, trying to piece everything together. “You wouldn’t mind… spending forever… Amajiki, what are you saying?” Lyca was getting confused. she hated being confused, especially because she knew she was dense. she just wanted to understand, but being both socially handicapped, and dense, was not helping.

Amajiki’s body was trembling, and his mouth was quivering. he held on to his shirt in a deathgrip. “I wouldn’t mind sp... spending… forever with you!” He exclaimed, his tone high pitched from the nervousness. Lyca did what appeared to be a facepalm, but she was just blushing and smiling too much to want to show it. “What the hell… I mean, same, but… what the hell?” she snickered slightly.

Amajiki was on a high after confessing like that. At least that was what it had felt like, and he got reckless. with his entire face red and his long elf-like ears burning, he took a hold of Lyca’s cheeks, and made her look at him. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you either.” he said, in one of those extremely rare bolder tones. Lyca’s mouth closed shut in shock. what. what did he just say?

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” she slowly said, conflicted at the sentence. was it a joke? had he been pressured to say that? what was going on?

“I… I am. s… sorry I just- I’ve always-” He struggled with his words, the adrenaline finally disappearing. the blue haired boy suddenly seemed very distressed, and to Lyca’s wildest imagination, it appeared that he had told the truth. “You actually want to marry me?” She asked, her face burning. she was probably just as red as Kirishima’s hair right now. “Yeah…” he answered, mouth quivering again. Lyca looked down, feeling overwhelmed. “What the hell… what the fuck- hell- what-”

“Can’t you just… i- i don’t know... “ Amajiki wanted some kind of reply. he had just asked a yes or no question, and as for an answer, he had gotten neither. “I’ve had a fucking crush on you since i first started talking to you, and now you’re literally telling me you want to marry me. I’m just…” She paused, going through her choices. After thinking, she looked up again, and gave Amajiki a small smile. he understood what it meant, and as his entire body shook, tears of stress left his eyes. “WOAH! WAIT! Don’t cry, oh my god!! Amajiki it was a yes! please!” Lyca didn’t know what to do. she had never been good with people who were crying. she was bad at comforting. “I can’t stop Lyca. I can’t stop. help…” He pleaded, smiling slightly. Lyca did what she knew had a chance of working, and hugged Amajiki tightly.

they sat like that for a while, Amajiki sobbing, and Lyca hugging him in both comfort and shock. what a weird way to propose to someone.

“Does this mean we’re a couple?” she asked after a while, needing some kind of conformation. Amajiki cleared his throat a little bit. As he slowly hugged Lyca back, he answered.

“Until we’re 20.”