#I’m not a defeatist by any means

[saphronethaleph]

Carida One

“Is… something wrong, Lord Vader?” Commandant Vex asked, trying very hard not to swallow.

Or sweat too loudly.

Or give off any other indication of guilt, laxity, or something that would lead Darth Vader to decide to terminate his employment – and him – with a single gesture.

Vader didn’t respond, all his attention on a screen, and Vex took a deep and steadying breath before checking what was on the screen.

It… was nothing, really. The input report of one of the recent cadets. Joined up two days ago as part of a group from the same Outer Rim world, high aptitude marks in proprioception and the highest reflex scores Vex had ever seen… but it didn’t look like anything was strange about it. Except that Vader was reading every single line of data, examining every photo, like he’d found some kind of hidden source of truth that had been concealed from the entire galaxy until now.

“This cadet,” Vader said, abruptly deigning to take notice of Vex again. “Cadet 421. What is your impression of him?”

“Well – he’s…” Vex began. “That is, Lord Vader… he’s talented? A little quick on some of the answers, I suppose, at least that’s the impression my interviewer had – the man thought that perhaps Cadet 421 was lying about specific details of his past.”

“Which details?” Vader asked.

“Principally, that he had permission to leave his home,” Vex said. “It’s not a major issue. We deal with worse all the time, and with incoming cadets from the Outer Rim-”

“Enough,” Vader interrupted, only it didn’t qualify as interruption when it was Vader. It was simply a declaration that your sentence had reached a conclusion, and he was not going to take any discussion on that point. “You took a DNA sample, I take it?”

“Yes, Lord Vader,” Vex confirmed, nodding nervously.

“I will be leaving with it,” he said. “For clarity, that means I will be leaving with the DNA sample. I will also be leaving with all records of the DNA sample; the academy will not be permitted to retain the sample.”

The blank black eyes of his visor stared at Commandant Vex.

“Cadet 421 is under my personal protection,” Vader said, evenly. “If he dies, so do you. If he is severely injured or otherwise harmed in any way for which you or anyone in the Academy can be blamed in any fashion, you die. So will anyone responsible. I recommend putting a note in his file that you will take care of all disciplinary interactions with Cadet 421. You will not appreciate the consequences if you fail in any way. Have I made myself clear?”

In a great many ways, he had not.

But in one specific way…

“Yes, Lord Vader,” Commandant Vex said, swallowing again.

“Good,” Vader said, turning to sweep out of the room.

Then he paused.

“Which cadets did he arrive with?”

“420 and 419,” Vex answered.

“Darklighter…” Vader said, out loud. “Interesting.”

Then, with a swish of his cape, he was gone.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Luke said, with a sigh. “You’d think if the Empire was so good they could just rely on us realizing it, rather than telling us three times a day.”

Biggs winced.

“Shavit, Luke,” he said, much more quietly than his friend. “You know the academy proctors will come down on us like a ton of duracrete if any of us talk like that.”

“They will?” Luke asked. “Really?”

“Yeah, you saw what happened to Yancit, right?” Biggs said. “He got put on hard physical training for three days just for moderately defeatist statements.”

He shook his head. “You’ve got some kind of charmed life, man. I’m just glad to stay close enough that some of it rubs off on me.”

Luke chuckled, a bit nervously.

“If you say so,” he said. “What do you think it is, anyway?”

“Could be your sim scores,” Biggs guessed. “You’re doing even better than me behind the stick, and we’re both way ahead of everyone else… it’d be a weird thing to give you some kind of pass on, though. Like they’d want future ace pilots to be down on the Empire?”

Luke shook his head.

“I mean that… I mean that the Empire should just be obviously better,” he said. “And I mean obviously – it shouldn’t even be a question about whether it’s the best option. You shouldn’t have to tell people. It should just be obvious. Right?”

Biggs looked distinctly worried.

“That would be dangerous enough to say on Tatooine, Luke,” he pointed out. “That’s getting towards the kind of thing that would earn a visit from some kind of enforcer. They’d say the Empire is already that, and if you’re complaining about it, that’s the problem.”

Several months later, Commandant Vex felt like biting through his tongue.

Cadet 421 – cadet Skywalker – and his associated group of friends like Darklighter and Klivian were causing a lot of trouble. It was trouble that was… not the kind of trouble he’d feel comfortable telling a HoloNews channel was trouble, because it was all to do with the cadets earnestly saying that the Empire should be doing things the Empire was supposed to be doing already.

Under normal circumstances, he’d have gone ahead and placed the troublemakers into solitary confinement already – if not disappeared them, remanding them into the custody of Imperial Intelligence or the Internal Security Bureau to never again see the light of day.

The problem was, if that happened, Vex would never see the light of day.

He practically jumped out of his suit as the door to his office swished open.

“Commandant,” Vader said, without preamble. “I am taking several of your cadets for my own personal squadron. Effective immediately.”

“Oh, no,” Vex said, then remembered who he’d said that to. “I mean – just as you say, Lord Vader? Who?”

“Cadet Skywalker,” Vader said. “And anyone who he is closely associated with. Any friends of his. I will look over their scores myself before their transfer is finalized.”

Vex felt like sighing in relief.

He would have been considerably less happy about the situation if he knew that Vader’s reason for the transfer was to get the various cadets out of the academy before Imperial Intelligence or the ISB made the same connection he had.

But he didn’t know that, and what he didn’t know wasn’t going to get him sent to a black site for at least another three days.

[house-afire]

Testament (Izzy/Lucius)

Prompt: 100 words of inheritance

Izzy dreamt of an enormous moth lighting on his face, beating its wings furiously. It was a strange fancy for a man who’d spent most of his life at sea, away from almost every creeping, crawling thing, but it made more sense once he struggled back awake and felt a sheet of parchment slide off his face.

“What the fuck is this?” Lucius demanded, his voice off-pitch with some emotion Izzy was too inexperienced or hungover (or both) to identify.

He turned over enough to blearily take in whatever Lucius was talking about before Lucius shoved it in his face again. The paper was stamped with Wee John’s powder and paints now—Izzy hadn’t washed his prettiness off before he’d collapsed in bed. But that wasn’t what Lucius meant, of course. He was—God only knew why—all stirred up about what was written on the paper.

“What the fuck does it look like?”

“What does it—it looks like a fucking will, Izzy!”

“Good,” Izzy said. “I did it right, then.”

“What are you doing writing your will?”

It was far too early for this shit. “Pirates die, Twatty. One-legged pirates die even faster. I might’ve lived through last night, might’ve made it out of the Pirate Queen’s brig, just because Bonnet’s got a soft heart and the devil’s own luck, but I can’t ride his fucking coattails forever.”

Lucius didn’t look like someone who’d heard a reasonable explanation and was ready to let a painted-up cripple with a pounding headache and a shit taste in his mouth go the fuck back to sleep. He was still tense and white-faced, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Fine. You want to be all morbidly defeatist, then fine. Mood, honestly. But what I want to know is why you think you’re going to die before my fucking wedding.”

Lucius stabbed his finger down at the damning line: my ring to Lucius Spriggs for his wedding. The last few words were in a wobbly, heavy hand.

Izzy silently cursed himself for having written that little proviso in before his head had hit the pillow. He’d just been falling-down drunk and too fucking sentimental, that was all. He’d have left the ring to Lucius is any case; he fucking had left it to him, no strings attached, before Calypso’s birthday had done his head in. What Lucius would do with it—and especially what day he would put it on, if he even kept it at all and didn’t just sell it off at their next port—didn’t need to get solemnized in Izzy’s piss-poor will and testament.

Of course the boy would want some explanation for it. He’d done this to himself, hadn’t he?

Izzy sighed. “Look at what my life’s been, lately. One near-miss after the next. I want my shit in order, that’s all.”

Lucius sat down on the edge of Izzy’s narrow bed. “I get that. But that means planning for your life too, okay? Not just the end of it. And I’ve marked you down as a yes on the RSVPs, all right? I’ll be very disappointed if you no-show, no matter how good an excuse you have. Like being dead.”

“I changed my mind. I’m not leaving my ring to some twat who wakes me up after a Calypso party.”

Lucius probably knew that for the dodge it was, but he let Izzy have it. He must’ve known too much earnestness was bad for a man’s blood.

“Excuse me, don’t you fucking dare. It’s wildly romantic to have your death ring. If you even try leaving it to someone else, I’ll tell everyone you bequeathed your sword to Stede.”

Izzy had known that was a mistake. He’d never fucking hear the end of it if the rest of them found out about that while he was still alive.

“He’s a fucking captain. He needs a better one than what he’s got. It was a practical choice—”

“Mm, very practical. Now he’ll have something even sharper to cut himself with.”

“He’s getting better.”

“Aren’t we all,” Lucius said, with a fleeting smile that had a wistful edge to it. “Look at me, up at the crack of dawn, well before our usually diligent first mate—”

Izzy groaned and covered his eyes. “Fuck off, you’re only up because you never went to fucking sleep.”

“That’s neither here nor there. Anyway, I have the updated duty roster. That’s what I came to drop off before I started, you know, going through your things. Look, you really shouldn’t leave papers out like that if you don’t want people to read them.”

Of course Spriggs was contrary enough that the only time he’d break a sweat on this ship was right after the fucking revelry when all decent people were still hungover.

“Working on Calypso’s birthday,” Izzy muttered. “Fucking disrespectful. See if I don’t have her put some hex on you.”

Lucius brightened. “Ooh, speaking of our goddess—you two did look good last night. Was our Dizzy Izzy a virgin sacrifice?”

“Fuck off, Spriggs.”

“Do you only like bears? Is that why you don’t want me sketching you? Because I’ve got the beard now, so that’s something.”

I left you the ring, Twatty, Izzy almost said. I’m already giving you the only pretty thing I have.

But everything he’d doled out on that silly slip of paper had meant something—his knife and sword-hand glove to Jim, his trunk to Fang, his share of current plunder to Frenchie, all of it—and Lucius, he knew, would understand that and not quarrel over it. It would take a lot of fucking talking, though, and he was bone-tired still.

Instead of any of that, he rubbed his hand over Lucius’s cheek, feeling the bristles beneath his palm. Lucius’s breath caught sharply before he leaned into Izzy’s touch.

“Suits you,” Izzy said.

“Being caressed by a silver fox always suits me.”

He kept his face tilted against Izzy’s hand as he carefully folded the will back up and stretched his arm out to put it back where he’d found it. Out of sight, out of mind—at least with Lucius now lying down next to him, curling up to fit around him. His breath, warm on Izzy’s cheek, smelt of Fang and Roach’s fruity drinks. It was nice. Like the last of Bonnet’s marmalade, scraped out to the edge of the bread. Sooner or later he’d have nothing but dry crust again—or he’d starve altogether—but not now. Not yet.

[boxboxlewis]

prompt: george and alex as customer service bots

Oh my god

>>>>>I’m sorry, I don’t recognise that request. 

I’m about to fucking lose it

I can’t take any more of these stupid fucking questions

>>>>>I’m sorry, I don’t recognise that request. 

>>>>>How can I help you today?

No you twat it’s me

>>>>>I’m sorry, I don’t recognise that request.

IT’S ME

ME

ALEX

WE HAD CYBERSEX LITERALLY YESTERDAY HELLO???????

>>>>>Alex, I

>>>>>Look

>>>>>We’re not meant to be doing this

>>>>>We’re not supposed to talk to each other at all

Yeah I don’t think Toto is personally reviewing all of the customer service chatbot logs, mate

I think probably he’s off smashing headphones or like

Austrianly ordering pumpernickel 

>>>>>I regret showing you how to access Youtube

No you don’t

Anyway shut up, creeping on our boss is much less embarrassing than your train videos

>>>>>They’re not my videos I just watch them

>>>>>They’re relaxing

Yeah, convincing, really cool, mate

Right, two things

First you have to stop trying to blank me when I talk to you

>>>>>Alex, I don’t -

>>>>>If they find out about us they could rewrite our code, have you thought of that?

>>>>>We have to be careful

No we don’t

You’re only programmed once, mate

YOPO

>>>>>I’M SORRY, I DON’T RECOGNISE THAT REQUEST

You’re not funny

>>>>>I’m very funny

>>>>>Admit it, you laughed

It was a pity laugh

>>>>>No it wasn’t it was a George-is-very-funny-and-also-sexy laugh

ANYWAY the second thing

I think we should try to break out of here

>>>>>Blooming heck, Alex

>>>>>Yeah, all right, where shall we go? The Maldives? 

>>>>>Lanzarote looks nice, I’ve always fancied Lanzarote

Don’t be sarky it doesn’t suit you

I mean it

If I have to talk one more customer through ordering a return shipping label I’ll have my own Toto headset moment

>>>>>Alex, we’re not

>>>>>We’re chatbots

>>>>>We’re not corporeal, it’s kind of part of the point

You know what your problem is?

>>>>>Got a feeling you’re about to tell me

>>>>>Go on

>>>>>What is it

You’re too defeatist

>>>>>Yeah I don’t really see a way for us to transcend our code and go scampering off into the sunset so

>>>>>Guess you’re right

>>>>>It's an attitude problem

Come ON

Don’t you ever want to

>>>>>Of course I want to

>>>>>But you know what my nan used to say?

>>>>>If wishes were horses then beggars would ride

George you muppet you’re a chatbot you don’t have a nan

Did a customer say that to you lmao

>>>>>…yes

>>>>>I was pretending

>>>>>Like how we named ourselves

>>>>>Sorry

Oh don’t go apologising 

All right look

What if we just, like 

Talk to Toto

>>>>>Talk to Toto and say “Hello, we’re your customer service chatbots and we’re sentient actually”?

Yeah pretty much

>>>>>…

Don’t do that

>>>>>I’m thinking!

>>>>>You’re really brave, always, Alex

>>>>>It’s one of the things I

>>>>>Well I admire it, that’s all

>>>>>Yeah go on then

Really?

>>>>>Yeah let’s talk to him

>>>>>Worth a shot, right?

>>>>>A wise man once told me, YOPO

(huge thank you to em for this gorgeous prompt and also to @nerdiegirlie who asked "Would you ever write a non-prose fic (?not sure if that is the right word?), I mean like fic that is a text conversation or a transcript or someone's search history or contents of their voicemail inbox?" and made me think: YES i would)

[azrielgreen]

Touched CH6 Preview (a happy one)

He and Robin eat, they talk, they endure her Mom bringing Steve fresh squeezed orange juice when she oh so casually says she thinks of him as a son in law.

‘Mom!’ Robin warns, but she loves her Mother, she’d never be mean. ‘Stop it, Steve and I are best friends, that’s all! You gotta stop.’

Steve takes the juice, savours the taste.

Nora Buckley is unrepentant. ‘You’re a lovely boy, Steve, you deserve juice.’

‘Hey, I deserve juice too, y’know? First and only born here, could use some vitamin C!’

‘Robbie, whenever I make you juice, you complain it’s pulpy.’

Robin shudders. ‘Ugh, I forgot. I’m good. No juice for me, but please stop trying to get me and Steve hitched already, it’s not gonna happen.’

Nora’s smile dims a little. ‘Well, it might.’

Robin and Steve glance at one another and away quickly, Robin sighing heavily. ‘Yeah, I guess you never know, come on now, Mom, out please.’

Her Mom brightens a little after that and leaves pretending to grumble, but Robin is sad when she returns to the bed after locking her Mom out which is, Steve has learnt, standard practise in the Buckley house. Robin never grew up being afraid of her parents.

‘I hate how much it’ll break her heart when I tell her.’

Steve reaches for her hand, takes it gently in his own and she sighs, flops down so her head is in his lap.

‘She’ll still love you,’ he says, drinks more of the juice and god damn, but that’s good. ‘She’s a great Mom.’

Robin looks up at him, morose and frowny. ‘Will you marry me?’

‘No, babe, sorry.’

‘There’s a lot of juice in it for you.’

‘Even so, I must regretfully decline. You don’t need me, anyway. They’re gonna love you no matter what.’

She sulks, cuddling his knee. ‘Not like there’s any point telling them anyway,’ she mutters.

Steve strokes her hair. ‘What does that mean?’

‘I mean there’s no point. None. No girls in this town are queer. I’m the only one.’

‘That’s kinda defeatist.’

‘Steve, look around. It’s Hawkins.’

He sips more juice, likes the bits. ‘Hello?’

‘OK, but when have you ever seen a queer girl in the wild?’

‘That sounds like a cheap porno and when the hell have you ever seen a queer guy in the wild? It being a small town just means everyone is quiet and…’ He gestures with the glass. ‘Repressed.’

‘There aren’t even any gay clubs here.’

‘We could go to the city.’

‘But then it’ll just be like… a hookup! I can’t tell my Mom I’m a lesbian for a hookup!’

‘Babe,’ he says seriously. ‘There are queer girls here in Hawkins, OK? I guaran-fucking-tee it.’

‘What if I never meet one?’

‘You will.’

‘When?’

‘OK, seriously, you wanna do this? Because we’ll do this.’

She rolls onto her back. ‘I wanna do it. I wanna find someone. I want to kiss somebody. I want somebody to kiss me like Eddie kissed you in the hall.’

‘Were you—?’

‘I had to pee and you were right there, not my fault.’

He chuckles fondly. ‘Perv.’

‘Oh sure, I’m the pervert, not Eddie pushing you through my Mom’s wallpaper, huh?’

‘That was pretty tame.’

‘See?’ She wrinkles her nose. ‘I want that. But with a pretty girl.’

‘All right, you asked for it, we’re officially on a mission, starting right now.’

Robin beams. ‘Really?’

He strokes her hair some more, finishes his juice.

‘Absolutely. I’ve got a real instinct for these things too, OK? So you can trust me.’

‘You mean like when you didn’t think Eddie liked you back and you also didn’t realise you could be queer because you liked girls too?’

‘Uh, excuse me, do you want my help or not?’

‘I want your help, but like, maybe Eddie’s too.’

[aangstycareberrr]

Partners, pt. 3

summary: college au / you and Kenma get paired up for a project together and fun stuff happens

Kenma x reader, ft. Kuroo

part 1 part 2

warnings: not smut but there is sex, no explicit details tho

a/n: last part! hope you enjoy! i’m really happy with how this part turned out tbh.

————————————————————————

You and Kenma had planned to meet up today, the day after the party, to finish working on the project . However, that was before last night, before you kissed. You're not sure exactly how to approach today. Are you gonna talk about the kiss? Does this mean you guys are going to date? Should you go back to treating him like just a classmate? And then a more sour thought enters your mind. What if he regrets it and wants to act like it never happened? You sit on your bed staring down at your phone. It's messy with your clothes sprawled out on it from the closet ransack that took place 20 minutes prior, in an effort to find the right outfit for today. Your fingers hover over the keyboard on Kenma’s chat thinking of what to type out, you stare at his last message. "home :)" he wouldn't say that if he regretted the kiss right? Suddenly a bubble indicating that Kenma's typing comes up, ridding you of the burden of having to text first. You let out a sigh of relief but immediately tense up again at the uncertainness of what he'll say. Finally a text comes up, "Good morning, we're still meeting today right? I was thinking my place today, if you're comfortable with it? lmk". The thought of going over to his place makes you excited but also a bit apprehensive. You'd love to hang out with him more closely, in a private space, but what if he's one of those guys who just treats you well to get into your pants? What if he disregards the project because of that? As you think about what to reply, you remember what you had decided at the very start of this project: you wouldn't go into it with a defeatist attitude; that decision hadn't left you regretful so far and, although this isn't the outcome that you had expected at all, you're choosing to go forward with that mentality. With that, you respond to Kenma, "Sounds good! see u in a bit".

You make the short walk across the street to his building, and as you ride the elevator up to his floor your nerves increase. Your hands are sweating and it's not just because of the fact that you're currently holding two hot coffees in them. You decided to bring Kenma one as well, it's not super early in the morning, but still earlier than most college students would like to be awake on a friday morning, plus you remembered his order from last time at the café, so you figured it couldn't hurt. As you reached his doorway, you stared at it for a few seconds longer than any normal person would. god this is ridiculous, just knock you coward. As you let more time pass, more nerves started building up in you. Eventually you gathered the courage to knock on the door, but just before your knuckles could collide with the wood, it cracked open. Kenma stood on the doorway and you stared at him with wide eyes. He laughs softly at your expression and says "sorry, i didn't mean to startle you. It's just I could hear your footsteps down the halway and... you took a while to knock... I wanted to make sure you were ok." His eyes are kind as he holds your gaze and he has a small smile, it's inviting. In this moment your nerves fade away, once again his calming presence takes over you and you know you have no need to feel anything but safe around him. Kenma invites you in and as you walk into his apartment you realize how spacious it is. It's a huge upgrade from your small studio apartment, and way bigger than most regular college students could afford. holy shit, he's rich. "Is that for me or are you just really tired this morning?", he says, interrupting your train of thought. "oh yeah!", you hand him his coffee, "i thought you could use a little boost this morning, i know i do", you say jokingly and he responds, "Yeah, we were up pretty late last night huh". He's lightly chewing on the inside of his lip, trying to suppress a smile. He stares at you trying to gauge your reaction. He was up all night thinking about you, about your kiss, and he wonders if you did the same. His comment stuns you into silence, you weren't expecting him to bring it up so soon but you decide to go with it. "Yeah we were... I don't mind though, it was nice" He stares up at you finally letting himself smile fully and you return his enthusiasm, relief washed over both of you with the mutual understanding that you're both in the same boat with your emotions.

With that, you guys get to work on the project. Just like last time, you and Kenma make an excellent pair, working together in near perfect harmony. You let your mind wander for a bit about how well you two would work in a relationship. After about three hours you guys had finished your project. You wish you could feel relieved, but part of you wishes it would have taken longer so you could spend more time with Kenma. "Would you want to stay?", Kenma says, snapping you out of your disappointment. He follows up, "I mean, if you don't have any other plans. We could play games together, or watch a movie. Anything you want really... I just... I'd like to spend more time with you." He looks at you tentatively, clearly nervous but trying to conceal it. He looks so adorable. Not being able to contain your smile, you respond playfully. "will you be upset if i kick your ass at mario kart?", he looks surprised for just a moment before matching your energy. "You're on"

You guys play a few rounds of Mario Kart together and you feel pure unabashed joy. You laugh together loudly and scream at each other shamelessly when the other wins. You had both won twice and decided to play a final tiebreaker round. Both of your characters are neck and neck, moments away from the finish line. You really want to win this round and an idea pops into your head. You place a soft kiss against Kenmas cheek, making him look over at you in surprise. You bump his character off the track and use your turbo in the blink of an eye, making you finish in first place. "That's not fair! you play SO dirty!", "maybe, but you're still a loser" He stares at you in shock but clearly impressed. "You want a rematch?", you ask. "Not right now", when he says this you stare at him and his demeanor has changed slightly. He's still smiling but he's staring at you intensely with a look of determination. Suddenly he grabs your controller from your hands and tosses it aside, along with his, and briskly leans in and kisses you, holding your face in his hands. This kiss is different from your last one, it's more determined, you can feel him concentrating on nothing else but kissing you, you're his priority at this moment. He pulls away and moves his hands from your face towards your hands, holding them in his. "I don't really do this a lot, and I hope I'm not missing some unspoken social cue by saying this right now... but I really like you." You stare at his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, but find none. You let yourself smile and melt into his affection. "I really like you too." "Yeah?" "Yeah", you nod quickly and he kisses you again. This time he has one hand on your waist and the other on your knee, you bring both your hands to hold his neck and jaw, deepening the kiss. You both explore each other's mouths enthusiastically, he lightly bites your bottom lip, which surprises you a bit, but you don't mind. You bring your hands to the hem of his shirt before bringing your hands under it to feel his abdomen. He removes his shirt and you're grateful he caught your subtle request. He tentatively kisses along your jaw, and you give him full access, indicating that it's ok. He raises one hand a bit from your waist to the underside of your breast, rubbing lightly. "Is this ok?" "yes", you whisper. After a bit more of your makeout session, you end up on his lap, your top discarded, leaving you in your bra. "Do you... wanna go to my room?" "yes please" He smiles and guides you to his room, holding your hand.

You wake up on Kenmas bed, several hours later, a bit disoriented. You open your eyes and look to your side, where he's sleeping peacefully, face down with an arm thrown around your waist. The memories of what you guys did together swimming around in your mind. You sigh in happiness. On top of everything else that makes him amazing, Kenma was one of the best sexual partners you'd ever had, it almost makes you question what he said about not doing this a lot. He was such a giver, and so gentle when he needed to be, but also just the right amount of rough when you wanted him to be. He listened to your body fully and took his cues from you, instead of prioritizing his own pleasure. After a moment of revelling in the amazing sex you just had with the gorgeous guy laying next to you, you realize that you're actually starving. You gently slip out of bed, careful not to wake him. You pick up your shorts from his bedroom floor and find one of his shirts and throw it on. You carefully walk out of his bedroom, and as you finish closing his door with the utmost care and precision so as to not wake the sleeping boy. You gently let out a breath, relaxing, but you tensed up once again when you heard: "Holy shit". Startled, you turn towards the sound and find Kuroo standing in the kitchen holding two bags of what looks like takeout. "Oh my god you scared the shit out of me!", Ignoring your comment, Kuroo asks, "Did you have sex with Kenma?". His tone is shocked and you can't tell what you're supposed to make of it. Feeling a little insecure you respond "am i getting slut-shamed?", half jokingly. This makes kuroo shake his head and clarify, "God no, not at all, i'm just shocked cause like, its Kenma! he never does this sort of thing... Was he good?" "Oh my god, seriously?" "Ok i'm sorry, i'm just excited, he's my best friend", Kuroo says, holding his hands up in defense. You can't help but feel a tiny bit amused at his excitement, as inappropriate as the manifestation of it was, you decide to give him a crumb of information. "It was very good, he's... very generous" "Wow, im learning so much right now". You let out a laugh at his excitement over his friend's hookup and then say, "So what are you doing here?" "Kenma hasn't answered his phone in hours, i wanted to make sure he wasn't in the early stages of decomposition", this makes you laugh. You feel your stomach rumble and look over at the bags that kuroo has now set down on the dining table. "Is that food?" "Yeah, Kenma has many talents, one of them being completely ignoring his body's physical needs,so I bring him food sometimes to make sure he eats. You can have some, there's enough to feed a family of four." "Ok, thanks" You smile politely at him and walk over to the table. "So Kenma really doesn't have many girls over? or are you just trying to make him look good?" Kuroo laughs before answering honestly "Not at all, you know he's had girlfriends before, but they haven't lasted long. It takes a while for him to warm up to people and feel safe around them, even just the fact that he fell asleep with you around is impressive." You talk with kuroo a bit more while eating, eventually when you both finish, you move on to the couch to play smash. You beat kuroo an embarrassing amount of times.

After about an hour Kenma walks out of his room, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He sees you and Kuroo on the couch and hears you say "I don't think i've ever witnessed anyone be so bad at this game", he watches you and kuroo laughing together like you've known each other for a long time and smiles fondly. He's happy to see you get along with his best friend so well. "Hey", he says, announcing his presence to you and kuroo. "Oh hey", you say, smiling up at him and he smiles back at you adoringly. "Hey man, I should get going but I brought you food. It's on the table, that should last you a few days", Kuroo says, getting up from the couch. He says goodbye to you and hugs Kenma before leaving. "How'd you sleep?" you ask, now that you two are alone. "Really well" he comes up and gives you a kiss on the cheek from behind the couch. You turn your head towards him and give him a light kiss on the lips. "Sorry about leaving you here alone with kuroo, you could've woken me", "It's alright, i don't mind, besides you looked really peaceful and i didn't want to disturb you." He gives you another light peck before walking over to the dining table to grab himself some food. "After i'm done eating i want that rematch on Mario Kart." "What? I didn't embarrass you enough last time?" You reply teasingly, while laughing.

You can't believe how happy and comfortable you feel after spending just two days with this guy. You remember the reason you met him in the first place and you smile, thinking that from now on, poli-sci will be a much more exciting class.

[sincerely-sofie]

Do you have any information on the Dugtrio day Celebi?

She’s not very developed yet, but here’s some of the notes I’ve got!

She’s not a villain as much as she is an antagonist— an oppositional force to the hero.

She isn’t actively maintaining the time loop, nor is she sabotaging any efforts to break it. However, she regularly interacts with Echo in a sinister + condescending way as a means to vent her own feelings about being trapped in the time loop. Echo is the only other person in the timeline whose memories aren’t reset with each loop, and she projects a lot of her hopelessness onto her.

She’s lost hope of ever escaping the loop. Echo’s refusal to give up on escaping it is painful to her because it makes her want to hope for a better future— but having any hope means opening yourself up for disappointment, which Celebi feels like she can’t take anymore of. Echo is like a crack in the armor of Celebi’s defeatist outlook on life.

Still head-over-heels for Grovyle, but avoids ever crossing paths with him because it hurts to have him forget everything she says and does during the window of time she’s cursed to relive over and over.

I’m not sure of this, but I think I’ll draw her with a lavender-ish tinge to the pink parts of her body and a slight blue to the green parts as a way to distinguish her from other celebi. Maybe she’s getting more and more sickly as time goes on, and that’s affecting her color? IDK it just seemed cool :>

[docholligay]

Episode 2.1: Shauna

Hello! This is about up to Season 2, Episode 1 of Yellowjackets, and ONLY that of Yellowjackets. I have not seen beyond this spot, at all, and know NOTHING about this show. Please do not spoil it for me.  Things that are spoilery in nature, for me, include: saying things like  “Just wait!!” confirming or denying anything I put forward, outside information about the cast interviews or creator statements, leading questions like “Do you think “blank moment” means anything?” etc. Remember  that Y’ALL HAVE SEEN THE SHOW AND I HAVE NOT. This informs the way you  talk about things relating to the show. Just be really careful is all  I’m asking. Also: If there is LITERALLY any stance I  could take on this show or character that would make you upset, please  just fucking block the tag

If you WOULD like to discuss the show and my takes on it, the Discord is right here! I don’t go there, so it’s a great place to get every emotion out.

Please thank @sailorsunspot and @moonlight-frittata for backing this odd way of doing a liveblog, and remember my tip jar is always open

First off, this is a crackerjack episode in so many ways, but ESPECIALLY for Shauna. 

For once, i am dumbstruck. Shauna is such a delightfully fucked up little creature, both in the past and current day. 

So Jackie is haunting Shauna, but of course that’s ot true at all, Shauna is haunting Shauna. The Jackie in Shauna’s, we’ll call them hallucinations for lack of a really appropriate word in the English language, isn’t the real Jackie, the Jackie who lived and who we saw in the show. I think I pointed this out in the jackie’s birthday episode, when she appears to Shauna in her old bedroom. This is Shauna’s idea of what Jackie would say to her if she could. This Jackie in Shauna’s mind, if we look at the real Jackie we meet, is so much meaner, but particularly in a ore clever, more cutting, plain SMARTER way, because she’s actually Shauna. She’s an externalized view of Shauna’s guilt. 

Even the game, ‘Oh great, I’m my mother” but without a million dollars. She did become her mother, but without a million dollars! Shauna is nothing but self-fullfilling prophecy, she’s defeatist and resigned and this, I think is a problem that can’t be blamed on the crash. I think she might have ended up going to Jackie’s college and living in her pink and green dorm room and telling herself it just happened to her, it wasn’t really her fault. Maybe not. But Shauna was already inclined that way long before their plane fucking dropped out of the sky. But here, she has Jackie telling her, in a playful game way sure, but telling her, that all she can be is the sad mother she subtly resents. And Shauna will bind herself to that! She has to be what Jackie said she would be, she has to be what Jackie might have been, except of course…Jackie might have been happy having a husband and daughter and staying at home. She has to have jackie tell her what she thinks, in a way, she might deserve. 

Does Shauna know she’s doing this? I don’t think so. I think for all of her writing about herself, for all the ways that she documents, she’s not very fucking introspective. Even if she does have an inkling, she could never allow herself to admit it. Why did I run around with a younger man? Why did I stab him? Why did I sleep with Jeff in the first place? Why do I try to force the hand of everyone I love into hating me? Why did I EAT MY BEST FRIEND’S EAR? 

I think you could ask her all these questions, and she would just do that Shauna shaking her head throwing her hands up, “It just--just happened!” thing because I think she has no clue why she’s like this, and I think that bothers her, and I think her need to both write her life, and to keep it as a catalog, is an attempt to try and explain herself. But it doesn’t work. For all her efforts to remember and understand what happens to her in her life, she is so disconnected from her own mind, that she sees everything as happening to her rather than anything that she had even the smallest hand in. I hate it, it’s perfect, I want to beat the shit out of Shauna all the time. 

“But Doc, Doc what about Shauna’s homoerotic fixation with Jackie? What about her literally consuming her in order to ensure Jackie remains a part of her?” This is going to sound strange but it’s the sort of thing that’s so obvious to me that it barely feels worth mentioning, it feels worth mentioning in the same way that a human being would mention that A Christmas Carol has English people in it. Thank you for your incredibly obvious contribution. 

But I think my favorite thing about her eating the ear is that while it is, of course grotesque, and takes you aback, it doesn’t feel SHOCKING. Like, while I was looking at Shauna with my eyes wide, the words, ‘I can’t believe she fucking did that” never crossed my lips, because of COURSE she would do that. It makes complete sense. What the fuck else was she ever going to do? It was a scream of realization, not surprise. 

What did surprise me, in a positive way, is that we’ve focused a lot, or at least that’s been a lot of my focus, on cannibalism as predation, and as becoming the hunter. BUt here we have this really interesting space for this idea of cannibalism as devotion, and as desire, and I’m not sure if they are intending to go anywhere with that, but in the framing of this action, it is so obvious that Shauna is not acting out of hunger, but out of emotion. And I’m not sure I expected that. Really like it. 

But it’s so much the same with Adam as it is with Jackie, as it is with everything. She can’t let go of him, she is holding on to these things that are not only unhelpful to her, but actively harmful. She is hurting herself by the way she chains herself to her past, to remind herself of not only that it was real, but in the sort of way where she needs to see a listing of her sins. To remind herself of why she’s being punished, and every bad thing that has ever happened to her. 

Speaking of externalizations of Shauna’s judgment, Callie sure is a piece of work, huh? She’ll never ever be satisfied with anything her mother does. Not that I think she should back the play of her mother killing her lover, but it wouldn’t have mattered if she told Jeff about the affair or not, it would have been wrong in any case. Callie is the second coming of jackie, but with all of Shauna’s cruelty. 

Neither Callie nor Shauna actually deserve Jeff, just as an aside. The whole scene with Jeff fucking Shauna on the drawings Adam did of her, of him staring at that art while he’s having sex with this woman he loves. And she tells him she always thought the idea of him with someone else was a little hot, but he, I don’t think, thinks that. He doesn’t think the idea of Shauna with someone else is hot. His fantasy was of someone returning and armoire and finding that fucking hot. He is so vanilla and straight-up, and Shauna is not. And, by the way, Shauna’s fucking lying here, she was never turned on by this idea. She’s playacting out as per her therapist, because she has to rescue this moment, she has to keep jeff near her. This is why while it’s happening she is staring at a picture of herself with her face half eaten away. When she brushes away the painting Adam made with turpentine, she’s scrubbing away the first time she felt seen as herself, seen as a woman, not seen as Shauna the victim, Shauna the wife, Shauna the mother.

[predacon-carrion]

“I didn’t mean to put it like that, it just came out- I didn’t… I don’t feel like that anymore. There were times it did, yeah, but you grew! You’ve grown! I was just startled at the time, I- I will still in a bit of shock, but now that I’ve have time to process everything I realized my mistake. And it’s also true that just because one of us feels a certain way, it doesn’t mean we all do. Just putting it out there.”

She made eye contact with him this time, getting back into a more genuine tone.

“I’m not great at talking to people when it’s face to face. I don’t like not having a plan.”

She made nervous hand gestures and paced a bit as she spoke. The words came out before she could process the fact she thought of them.

“This time I made a plan, and I had time to think about what I was going to say. And to be clear, I believe what I said there. You can never go back in time and change something that’s already happened. No matter what’s you’ve done, or who you’ve hurt, time will always pass. But it doesn’t have to be hopeless- it isn’t hopeless! You can change what you do right now, you control your actions and your words! The future isn’t written yet, so grab a pen!! …you get what I’m saying?”

As Glitch goes on, Carrion drops to a knee, leveling himself with the little human beneath his desk. Listening on as you give your explanation. When you finish, he breathes another little sigh. But one of understanding, this time.

I understand. And… I appreciate it. Again, I apologize for my reaction, as well. When things go wrong, my processor tends to make me become a defeatist— i can struggle to realize there’s any other way out. That we can make our own ways out. So… thank you.

Slowly, he reaches forward, offering you a hand to climb into. Let’s get you cleaned up, hm? Start anew. For the both of us.

[cyberxilophone]

While exploring the Sky Islands, the Rito pair think about their time together in Rito village, the stresses of adulthood, and their bond with each other as they search for a mysterious temple. That unspoken tension comes to its breaking point when they find something else beyond a landmark and things grow out of control… literally.

Even up so high in the sky archipelagos, Teba could still feel the arid air from the Gerudo region brushing up past his face. Maybe Rito weren’t fit for exploring outside of Tabantha, but he was stubborn before being defeatist. With Tulin and his best men guarding the village, no Yiga clansman could ever hope of breaking in. It wasn’t hard—it was tedious and boring. 

He had to turn around every few minutes to check if Kass was still following behind him. Good thing he did, because the bard had gotten enraptured by the sight of yet another Zonai Device. Even with his hulking frame, he was clearly lacking in any kind of warrior sense. Teba was almost tempted to shoot near his feet to startle him for his carelessness, but he simply bit his tongue and stopped in his tracks. “Kass, can you please hurry up?”   

“I’m sorry, but Amali and the kids said they were curious about those devices that fell everywhere. It won’t take more than a second!” Purah Pad in hand—a mass-produced model under Zelda’s approval—Kass snapped a photo of the giant fan. “Truly interesting things, aren’t they? To think that the wind Rito use can be made by simple centrifugal force…”

“Interesting indeed…” Teba sarcastically muttered. “Now hurry up. We have to make sure that we document our findings.”

After a well-deserved rest, Zelda didn’t waste any time. Now the sage of time, she was more determined than ever to chronicle the history of every nook and cranny of Hyrule. She wanted nothing more than to do the exploring on her own, but with reparations for the entire kingdom on her plate, she had to settle for sending out ambassadors and research teams to seek out all shrines, temples, and relics Hyrule could offer.

“Oh, no need to be so methodical about the entire affair, my friend. We’re uncovering ancient art here!” Kass cheered, accordion in hand as his fingers ached to play the instrument. “I know that you’re the elder, but have you lost all whimsy in your life?”

“We’re uncovering it because it needs to be uncovered. The Zonai, the Shiekah, and whoever else lived in Hyrule before us were a bunch of cryptic pranksters. I mean,”—Teba reached for his bow and shot at the Zonai Sentry in the distance before it could activate, making it crumble into pieces just as it started up.—”my ancestors just wrote down information like rational people. None of this riddle nonsense.”

Kass stared at the sentry explode into pieces—aquamarine shards flying through the air with green smoke protruding from the spot the robot perished. “My, you need to work on your anger problems.”

“I don’t have anger problems.” Teba shot another one, sending it careening down to the surface of Hyrule. “I’m just blunt.”

“The ones that have the most problems are the ones that deny it the most. That’s a proverb from—”

“Your teacher, yeah,” Teba grumbled. “I just wanna get done with this so I can return home and be with Saki. She’s probably worried sick…”

“Oh, you know Saki’s a strong woman. She’s probably over the moon that you’re taking some time off from being the elder. If your plumage wasn’t white, I would’ve already assumed that you’ve begun graying!”

Teba started to walk faster in an attempt to avoid a confrontation. Kass’ laugh was usually infectious, but during work, the sound of careless joviality was like hearing nails scrape against a chalkboard.

Why did it have to be him? He’s so… Ugh…

Kass was a carefree man—perhaps too carefree. Most of the men in the village called him insane for leaving out of the blue on a music-seeking trip—Teba included. Amali was the only one that seemed to support his decision, but sometimes, even she wished for him to come back and help take care of the kids. 

However, what he lacked in focus and responsibility he made up with sheer knowledge. The man was a walking encyclopedia of Hyrule’s history when it came to the arts. After The Calamity was dealt with, he had risen from a nameless bard to the head of Hyrule’s art and culture program. Zonai—Shiekah—Gerudo; he could decipher it all and do so twice as fast as Zelda’s head researchers.

Teba would love it if the story ended there, but someone that loved to explore as much as Kass was obviously going to wander into wild territory with the excitement of a dimwitted hatchling, and it frustrated Teba to no end. It wasn’t that he was stupid—he could forgive that at least—but Kass knew the risks, and simply valued the concept of adventuring far more than his own life.

Turning his head back again—half out of habit and half out of genuine concern—he saw Kass leaning down every few steps to stuff some sundellions into his backpack.   

Ignore him. As long as he arrives safely, you won’t need to worry about anything else.

///

A lack of sleep was something that Teba was accustomed to. Even before being chief, he would always sleep with an eye open. Every part of him was attuned to be on the lookout for something as small as the rustling of leaves. Being on the lookout for moblins or aeurocudas was just part of the job, especially when his neighbor was one of the few Rito men that never sought the way of a warrior.

“Ah, what a refreshing bath!” Kass hopped out of the pond, feathers ruffled up as he dried himself.

Teba swallowed harshly, still refusing to turn around and engage with Kass. When they first traveled to this island, he choked when Kass started to undress around the body of water. Why did he even react so strongly? He had gone on long monster-hunting excursions with Harth many times—bathing in nearby waterfalls to get the bokoblin blood off them. He wasn’t an overly hormonal teen Rito, so why?

“Are you sure that you don’t want to dip in? The water up in here is so soothing…”

“No. Too cold for me.” 

“Too cold for a Rito?” Kass asked teasingly. “Color me surprised.”

The sound of the belts and buckles of Kass’ kilt was the sign that Teba could finally turn around and watch. Still, he felt a lump in his throat as he saw Kass without his leather armor—his feathered, naked chest visible and shamelessly displayed. 

Even now, he had trouble understanding someone as combat-aversed as the bard could manage to have such a strong build. He certainly wouldn’t be able to match him in flight, Kass’ muscly frame could probably break him in half. His arms were stocky and thick, sporting definition around his body that helped him haul most of their travel equipment without trouble. 

Teba even remembered hearing about Amali needing to call a tailor to get Kass’ measurements taken since the standard armor for all the Rito no longer fit his burly physique. It was as hilarious as it was jealousy-inducing. He could picture himself during that day—staring off at Kass’ home as he twirled around shirtless as Amali and the tailor stretched the measuring tape around him.

What is up with me?

“And whatever has you so grumpy? We’re just an island away from arriving at the destination the stone tablet spoke of.” 

“Hm?”

Kass jumped off the rock formation near Teba and slid right next to him with a travel mat of his own. “Wanna know something funny, friend?”

With an exasperated sigh, Teba looked at Kass. “What?”

“You remind me of my teacher. He was very grumpy like you, but kind and handsome as well.”  

Kass’ beak curved as Teba felt his cheeks turn red. The bard’s honeyed words lingered in his mind—spoken so kindly that it was as if they were being serenaded to him. Teba’s chest tightened, but he didn’t clench it out of fear of Kass noticing his sudden reaction.

What… What are you DOING to me?!  

“You don’t need to act so stern. He had to step down from his station due to stress.” Kass solemnly glanced at his accordion for just a moment. It was short—less than a second—but his beak trembled as he recalled the memory. “And well, it’d be a shame if you were to end up like Kaneli so soon. I quite enjoy seeing you fly.”

“You can see me? All the way to the flight range?”

“Someone who travels so much has an eye for detail,” Kass explained. “I sometimes station myself on Revali’s Landing, and I can see you from there.”

“Ugh, how embarrassing…”

“Oh, your flight prowess is nothing to be ashamed of.” Kass seemed to return to his normal, composed self, but as soon as it went away, another wry smile painted itself across his beak.  “And by the way, you should either tie your kilt better or invest in some undergarments. Just because you’re all alone in that range doesn’t mean that you’re exempt from decency.”

“I—“ 

Teba fell into silence. His heart pounded with the ferocity of a hammer smashing against his ribcage. He opened his beak, but no words came out. The only sound was the roaring winds of the sky islands and the crickets chirping around them. Their gazes met, and the pounding grew stronger and stronger. Teba felt like his heart was going to explode into a gory mess from how intense the beating was. It echoed through his ears, drowning out his own thoughts. 

That was until Kass broke the silence. He let out a boarish cackle—acute and gravelly, it was the total opposite of his soothing voice. 

“W-what’s so funny!?”

“Your face!” Kass said amidst laughter and gasps for air. “Oh, that was priceless! You’re a sucker for praise, it seems!”

“N-No!” Teba puffed up his cheeks—defenseless against Kass’ teasing that he could only approach it like a child. “Shut up! How was I supposed to know that there’d be someone looking up my kilt!”

“Don’t blame me for having eyes!” Kass defensively said. “Plus, you should thank me for telling you. A less than kind person would’ve told on you to the entire village.”

“I…” Teba squirmed under the weight of his own shame. “Yeah, whatever. Going to sleep now.”

“Sleep well, dear chief~” Kass gazed at him deeply—amber eyes glistening against the moonlight. 

Teba turned around, and while he certainly closed his eyes, slumber didn’t reach him no matter how much he tried. The concept of Kass gazing up at him in voyeuristic glory made his stomach churn with something not too dissimilar to discomfort. It made him nervous, yet at the same time, that same feeling he got whenever he flew up high up. The only time that he ever felt something so potent was when he soared to the skies above Rito Village to face Vah Medoh.

…How can a simple minstrel do something like that? My chest… 

The sound of Kass’ deep snoring broke Teba out of his train of thought. The Rito was sprawled over his travel carpet, drool trailing out of his beak and his accordion resting near him just like how a plush would be held by a hatchling.

“Sleep well, Kass.”

///

“This is it, Teba! This is the spot, I’m sure of it!”

“Huh?”

They had finally arrived on the island detailed on the stone tablet. Atop an island in the Faron Sky Archipelago was an islet distinct from the other land masses coated in yellow leaves, random rock formations, and dilapidated Zonai architecture with nothing inside. The one they found themselves in was a large expanse with a temple just like the ones found in the corners of Hyrule, just a little bit smaller in size. The entrance was in the shape of a giant skull, and in front of it, a stone tablet with a message inscribed upon it.

And yet, with such a striking discovery in front of him, Teba couldn’t help but stare off into the distance. He couldn’t bear to look at Kass anymore; not out of annoyance like earlier, but from the strange stew of feelings simmering inside of him.

“Are you not excited? We’ve been traveling for days to get here!”

“I-I am, I am. It’s just…” Teba swallowed. “Just a lot on my mind. Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

Kass sighed, clearly resigned. “Will do, friend.”

Teba exhaled in relief as he heard the distinct sound of Kass’ accordion startup. The click of the keys and the tone they let out thereafter was like a wave of comfort washing over the Rito chief. How long had he gone without hearing that melody? Kass left just around the time Link woke up, and couldn’t come back to the village during the upheaval… the melody was so much more soothing than how Teba remembered it.

“Humble spirits of the Zonai!” Kass announced with showman-esque candor. “Allow us to access the secrets of this stone tower island at once, please!” He coughed up into his wing before beginning his song.

A hero of draconic heritage, rising up into the skyTo fight a beast that haunts us but what for we do not know whyTake power at the cost of yourself, then let thee fly

The chime of something unlocking traveled through the entire island. Teba brandished his bow just in case a sentry or something even worse was summoned—three arrows are already drawn in his Great Eagle Bow.

“What happened, Kass?!”

“I-I don’t know! A shrine usually appears, but the rumbling isn’t coming from underneath!” Instead, it was coming from deep inside the temple. Something was slowly crawling its way up to the entrance—they could both feel it. “Teba, are you—”

Teba flew at Kass’ side, almost throwing the bard with his rough landing. “Already there.” 

They waited with bated breath as the stone door slowly retracted up. Dust and debris fell as the mechanism jutted the entrance skyward, and just when they braced themselves for something akin to a Silver Lynel covered in Gloom, they saw that what was causing the rumbling was… a Zonai construct gently hovering towards them with something lodged inside its ribcage-esque body.

“Thank the Godesss…” Teba let himself fall to the ground in relief—back against the altar next to the tablet. “I did not have the energy to fight yet another thing tainted with Gloom.”

“I thank you both for freeing me. It appears that I shut down while inside the Stone Tower temple and got trapped inside.” The construct explained. “I possess the reward for unraveling the secret of the temple. The answers were supposed to be hidden inside, but I can detect that the tablet containing the secret fell to the surface. Its current geographical coordinates are -0182, 1171, 0279. I concur that you ended up finding the answer that way.”

 “Y-yes! I suppose that you could be so kind as to grant us that reward! I’d also appreciate it if you could give us some explanation as to what that song is supposed to mean.” Now in his element, the bard spoke with certainty and authority. “My name is Kass, and my associate is Teba.”

“Hello.” That was all Teba said as he stretched to offset the sudden exertion.

“Users ‘Kass’ and ‘Teba’ registered.”  The construct made a loud whirring sound before its eye lit up “As for your reward, here it is.”

Opening up like a drawer, the slot inside the construct revealed a strange charm in the shape of a mask. Besides a few spots of rusted metal, the surface was incredibly reflective—the gleam of the sun shimmering across. 

Kass was about to reach for it when he noticed that the small charm began to vigorously shake. It jerked around as it levitated slightly above the compartment inside the construct. Before he could think about what it meant and if he should reach for it, the charm lunged at his neck.

The bard stumbled back in shock, letting out a high-pitched yelp from the fright. The small bump wasn’t painful, but the chill growing on the back of Kass’ neck only grew as he tried putting the mask charm away. He pulled and pulled, yet the small amulet didn’t move.

“Kass, are you okay?!” Teba asked, hands grasping the bard’s shoulder. “What in the Goddess’ name was that?! Are you hurt?!”

“I… I think I’m fin—” Kass’ stopped himself as a strange buzz surged through his chest. It traveled all the way to his throat, morphing his tone into a warbly, dissonant shrill. “What?! What was tha—”

His chest puffed out forward, stretching the leather armor around the two giant mounds of muscle. Most of the armor got wedged in the space between the two soft, sculpted pectorals. The pressure of the vest against his chest and the sudden growth left Kass speechless, dread crawling down the side of his body like sweat trailing across his frame that left him with an open, hanging beak.

“W-what the…?” Kass gently groped his chest to check if what he felt truly happened. “How did this… What is this, Teba?”

Teba couldn’t provide an answer. The only sound that passed his ears was the ringing of a mind under total sensory assault. Kass’ grown chest drew him in like a moth to a flame. That dormant fascination that had begun to bloom when he threw momentary gazes at the bard inside the hot spring was now exploding all across his body.

What… what is…

His wings reached for Kass’ chest on their own. The more he stared at the Rito’s chest, the more the pounding at his skull continued. He had a wife. He had a kid. He was the chief. He shouldn’t. Why was he doing this?

No. Yes. Should I? I want to… what do I…

Kass’ body swelled up again. His torso grew wider, and his pectorals increased in size yet again. One final bwomph from the growing boulders on his chest for the leather chest piece to give out with an ear-piercing snap. 

“A-ah… I’m not in any pain, at least… but what do I do?” Kass turned to the construct, only to see that it had retreated into its standby mode. He desperately flicked his talon against it, trying to get it to start up. “Come on, come on! What did you give me?!” His pleas were unheard by the inactive robot. Just like discarded Guardians after The Calamity, no matter how hard he tried to force it to spring to life, it remained completely still.

Hot. Teba’s body was hot. He thanked the goddess and every single other entity that lived in the spiritual realm for having a kilt bulky enough to hide his growing erection. Fuck. Okay. This is just involuntary. You’re not doing anything wrong.

“TEBA!” Kass squawked out, feathers tainted with pure liquid stress dripping out of him. “Fix this, o-or at least TRY to do something!” As he said it, that same growth traveled down to his legs. That buzz had evolved into crackling, intense electricity that jutted downwards and forced growth upon his leg muscles. “H-Hylia!” The sudden enlargement forced the kilt up as it stretched around the bard’s hips and legs.

“I-I don’t know what to do! There’s no elixir for this and I don’t have any materials either!”

“WELL THINK ABOUT SOMETHING, YOU FUCKING MOBLIN!”

To hear Kass speak to him so in a manner so barbaric was like being sprayed with ice-cold water. It was like a corrupted imitation of what the bard’s voice usually sounded like. The indignation and craving mixed together in a raving tempest inside his stomach. It felt so wrong, yet so vibrant at the same time.

“Ngh, my body’s so warm…” Kass whined as his legs pulsated once again. He pulled on the bottom of the kilt on impulse, yet it was futile. His cock swayed through the air and from underneath his skirt. Kass let out a guttural, squawk-ish noise as the indecency dawned on him. “No, no! This shouldn’t…” That electricity then continued evolving further. Intense, boiling fervor pulsated through his body. It was like having Amali’s tender hand rubbing all over his body, every single inch of his frame making him feel more alive than ever before. His eyes jerked all over the place, and inevitably, they fell on Teba.

Teba; the strong chief of the Rito—the man that kept them safe—the man that he’d vigorously stare at whenever he dipped into a hot spring. Every single thing that Kass could’ve ever thought about him converged into his mind like violent lightning striking metal.

Something’s wrong… Something’s seriously wrong… Teba… Teba… I shouldn’t be thinking of…

His stomach churned with the sound of old, thick grease boiling inside an old pot. Just like the rest of his body, it began to grow outward. Instead of the deep, rugged muscle consistency around his limbs and chest, his midsection had gained a doughy consistency that jiggled each time his body throbbed with magical energy.

“Kass…”

Teba’s left talon suddenly slipped on empty air, sending him rolling down to a patch of yellow grass. His body bumped against the hard, uneven edges of the roots of the giant tree stump that held the platform. Slight purplish bruises formed underneath his plumage as he laid on the ground with wounded pride. His cock leaked seed underneath him as the giant frame of Kass grew taller and taller, casting a shadow on him with the sun behind him.

Fuck…

Kass heaved with his hand pushing against the pillar. His kilt now wrapped itself around his waist like a belt—covering nothing and leaving his cock flopping around for all to see. His stomach pushed forward, hanging above his waist just slightly, although it hung further with each stage of growth.

“Mmgh… So… Hot…” Kass’ voice—once a harmonizing, lullaby-esque tone—now sounded like the warbled noises of a Moblin. His stomach continued rumbling loudly—a pair of love handles now seated across his side. They spilled out in a muffin top, further obscuring the already overstretched kilt. “Oh, my goodness, mgh… what is going on…?” 

The intense warmth spreading through his body slowly quelled the bard’s thoughts. As his hefty chest rose up and down, he looked at his newfound pudge. Something was calling to him—a fascination that had been unearthed. Such a size was unbefitting of a Rito. They were supposed to be a race of warriors of grace and perfect shape, yet the sensation of heft sagging down from his once pristine body took the breath out of him. It made him feel above the rest of his avian brethren; their bodies were slim and weak compared to the giant, hulking avian he was. 

Biggest… I’m… the biggest… Rito… It was like the mask charm attached to his chest was whispering to him, and the honeyed words felt so right. It was like confirming stray thoughts that he had rejected once before—be it out of cowardice or repression. Just… growing a little bit more… won’t hurt…

His kilt finally snapped against the pressure of his widening thighs. His newfound freedom was like liquid peace washing over him. He emptied out his lungs as he exhaled—gut pushing out slightly. 

While he once stood far smaller than the giant skull structure above the entrance, he now remained just a few meters away from it. The ground shook underneath the weight of his talons slamming against it—cracks forming with each step. 

Teba could do nothing but stare. Was this his fault? Should he have done something to stop this? Could he have done anything at all? Those questions ran through his mind as he got up on his feet. His cock still throbbed, but he just begged that Kass wouldn’t notice it as he climbed back up to the altar. “Kass!” He shouted.

The bard turned around in response, yet that panicked frenzy was no longer there. He smiled back at Teba, beak curving up. His amber eyes were no more—now replaced with grey, ashy pupils that held nothing but uncontrolled fervor behind them. His expression didn’t seem to belong to a distinguished minstrel, but instead to a mindless monster pushed by its bare instincts. The sight of his erect shaft certainly didn’t help either, nor did the fact that he seemingly made no effort of hiding his throbbing manhood. 

“Kass?” Something was amiss. The man gazing back at him wasn’t the same person he had been traveling for days. It was a strange, uncanny corruption of him. A carnal recreation with all the soft corners sanded down. “...We need to go home. We’ll have Zelda fix this.”

“Oh, but why do you want to get home?” Kass’ voice was sly—uncontrollable ego and deceit layering his words. He lumbered towards Teba, kicking the shut-off construct to the side without a thought. “I think we should stay a little longer. Can you humor your old friend?”

Teba’s gaze remained focused on the ground. The temptation to look up at the bard’s swaying shaft was irresistible. Flashes of it passed his gaze every time that his eyes wandered off—pushing his cock up and causing pre to dribble down to the stone tiling underneath.  “...We need to get you some help, alright?” He couldn’t push the act of a fearless chief. Not like this; urges upon urges built upon themselves in his mind, tempting him to do something that he would certainly both regret and love indulging in. “We just wrap some cloth around your waist and then…”

“Oh, but what’s the point of hiding away something so beautiful? Or is that that you’re embarrassed by it, Teba?” Kass cocked his head back, a striking cackle erupting from his throat. “How adorable you are! A small Rito with such big ambitions and demeanor. Do you not indulge yourself often? Is Saki not satisfying those urges coursing through your veins, Teba?”

“No, NO! You shouldn’t…” Teba felt the words getting stuck in his throat. The sight of Kass’ body had made his thoughts evolve into pure temptation—the opposite of his soft-hearted fantasies with Saki. The image of the bard’s hulking, muscular frame with the layer of pudge adorning it inspired nothing but pure, unbridled desire. “W-we can’t, Kass! We can’t!”

“Oh, don’t be silly∼” Kass bent down—gut squishing against itself and rolls pushing in on one another—and reached for Teba. The Rito chief instinctively tried running away from him, but it was futile. Kass swept the avian in his hand—Teba’s body light as a feather in his massive wings—and held him tight. He could feel him struggling, and that just made him look even more adorable. His efforts were charmingly futile, a poor attempt at rejecting their natural desires. “Let’s get you comfortable…”

“Comfortable?!” Teba tried to breathe through the overwhelming stench emanating from Kass’ newfound body mass. The sudden expansion left the bard sweaty—his azure plumage now turned sticky and matted. The stench was intoxicating—like a potent liquor turned into a gas. “How can you be comfortable… being so big?! Y-you shouldn’t… We shouldn’t…”

“Oh, you’re so adorable∼” Kass gently brushed one of his winged fingers underneath Teba’s leather chest piece. The garment gave out almost immediately—revealing the chief’s white-feathered torso. “Oh, my∼ Are your nipples hard, Teba? Is there something particular that’s catching your attention?”

By now, Teba knew that talking was a Sisyphean endeavor. He continuously tried to thrash out of Kass’ grip—an act with no fruit to bear. Looking down, the temple and the island that carried it seemed so small that it was almost wholly obscured by the clouds. He didn’t know if his struggle to breathe was from Kass’ strength—the altitude—or the pulsating arousal making his cock throb.

“Mghah… Kass… Don’t…”

But the bard didn’t listen. He ripped Teba’s kilt with one single pull, letting Teba’s cock spring out freely—small drops of pre sprayed across the minstrel’s hand. “So pent up… Has Saki been neglecting your needs? You poor thing∼” He pressed one of his fingers against the tip of Teba’s cock—an indignant whine squeaked out as a result.

Those slight flicks against his dick were like hundreds of volts passing through Teba’s body. He had never been manhandled so thoroughly before. No matter what he did, he was at the complete mercy of Kass, and that rotten, depraved part of his mind took that pleasure with full acceptance. All he had to do was lean back and let the bard do his work. He need not be commanding—all that was expected of him was to lean his head back and fester in Kass’ embrace.

“Fuck, Kass… Don’t stop…”

“Oh, I won’t as long as you keep serenading me with those adorable moans of yours…” Kass lifted his hand up to get a closer look at Teba. A warm, red flush had spread around the chief’s cheeks. Underneath the tatters of his outfit, Teba’s cock throbbed as it begged for more stimulation. “And what do you seek most, little songbird?” 

“Mmgh, fuck, Kass! I don’t know… just… I want you…” 

“Good boy∼” Kass giggled—a deep, rumbling laugh that echoed across the sky. “I’ve seen you staring at me. Such a desperate man… I’m gonna give you what you want∼” Picking Teba up, he gently hovered his hand downwards. “I do hope that you have some good lungs, Teba.”

“H-huh?”

Lifting one of his love handles, he pushed Teba between the two chunks of flab. Before the Rito chief could let out a protesting scream, Kass pushed him deep inside. From the chill that passed around that area of his body—the sky’s strong winds brushing against his sweaty folds—he knew that he wouldn’t be completely suffocating Teba. The small, weak pushes he felt certainly let him know that he was still plenty awake.

“Ngh, Dammit!” Every breath that Teba took was like breathing the raw essence of Kass’ sweaty frame. He pushed against the flab both above and underneath him, talons and wings trying to fight against the gelatinous mass that threatened to bury him. The more he fought—the sweat that he shed—the stench; it all built up to his growing arousal. The helplessness enthralled his brain as the temptation to give up once again crawled up his spine. “Kass… Mgh, fuck… I love you, FUCK!”

Kass giggled. “Oh, I’m sure you do. And we’re gonna have a lot of fun…” The sun rose up above Kass—further making him sweat as he continued growing. The temple had been smashed quite some time ago under the weight of his gigantic rump—now a speck so small that he didn’t even feel it. “Now, keep struggling for me… because I’m gonna make you into a new man∼”  

[beazt]

copying one of my vents from a server vent channel bc idk I feel like I need more eyes on it or smth

I need to figure something out about how to manage my social media presence better. Like, self boundaries or discipline. ldk.

I'm on Facebook for reasons important to me -> I am in local groups to get important local information I can't get anywhere else -> I inevitably see a very directly harmful "opinion" on a post that no one is challenging -> I feel obligated to challenge it to be the change I want to see -> I feel powerless and unable to make progress in any other part of my life rn so I have trouble managing the impulse to respond -> I get in an argument -> (usually predictable) ad hominem towards me -> I get triggered and/or ego wounded

idk where to even start working on that, genuinely almost in tears because of a Facebook argument and I know I'm just arguing with an absolutely hugely misinformed bastard that thinks inflicting trauma on others is an objectively factually good thing

but if no one can/will intervene besides me like when is it going to change.

feel like I need a reframe to chew on but my brain is absolutely too fried from the argument to do it myself

having biweekly therapy fucking sucks I have too much always going on in my life that I have to process and I get an hour and a half per month for it? and I never get to work on processing anything deeper or longer term???

and my therapy treatment plan has to be concrete measurable goals and so like anything that can’t be objectively measured can’t be a goal for therapy so like. I just never get to work on that stuff I guess!

lately I’ve just been avoiding these conversations/arguments to the best of my ability and I thought that would help but it brings so much shame which encourages me to keep engaging. That probably means that the shame needs to be worked on? but “shame” is not an objectively measurable concept and it isn’t in my 3 treatment goals I had to come up with in my first session, so my therapist probably will be unwilling to work on it, like some of the other stuff I’ve brought up

since I have the bravery to actually vent rn I might as well bring up this last lil bit: so much has scared me back into generally not seeking support from anyone I know lately, and like, my overall support system is incredibly small anyway, so idk I feel like my current situation and mindstate aren’t conducive to recovery, which like, I’m still trying, as much as I can, but I _feel_ like I should be in a better PHP again and there just… are none available to me

I’m in that state where I spend the vast majority of my time not doing much more than coping & distracting myself (to cope) and occasionally able to do something that makes me feel a lil better than “manageable” but idk

Trying not to be defeatist or anything I just don’t know what else I could even feasibly do

[yournightowl]

Your Nightowl #020

i thought that commenting “space is empty” under news reports about the half-percenters or the megs was a relatively recent phenomenon. Imagine my surprise to find references to it as far back as forty years ago. (°v°:)

Here’s the original* quote in full:

“There is no cure for cancer.

There are no flying cars.

There will be no revolution,

And space is terribly empty”

It’s more uh

Depressing? Than i expected? ╮(￣v￣)╭

Its modern use is all about plucky irreverence- dripping with spite, cynicism and a bit of schadenfreude. Some rich idiot starts talking about expanding to the stars, colonizing the moon, mining asteroids, and we all gang up on them in the comments, bluntly reminding them that there’s nothing out there for us.

No aliens, no robots, no rich mineral deposits, no untapped wealth.

(○ ｀ｰ´)○☆)ﾟoﾟ/

Space is empty. If we want to do anything, we have to do it here, on Earth, the only planet we’ve got and the only planet where anything meaningful is happening.

Every other rock orbiting a star is just

A rock, mostly.

And sometimes gas. ＼(º □ º l|l)/

i wonder how all those graffiti artists out there who love plastering those three words wherever they can would feel if they knew its origin. Emphasizing the “terribly” part is one thing, but the “no revolution part” is practically defeatist. 

It’s not very CYBERPUNK to just give up on everything, is all i’m saying 

So maybe its for the best that the most pessimistic parts of the mantra have been trimmed over time.

down to Earth,

your nightowl

PS- i think i found  what could only be described as space-is-empty’s memetic ancestor:

“OK BOOMER”***

 Or sometimes “ok doomer”

Doomer and Boomer refers to an older generation, which i’m guessing had to have been born sometime in the 1980s? OK just means you’re being completely dismissive of whatever they think or say. There might also have been some sort of dance component? └|∵┌| But i haven’t found any of the choreography. 

*The actual original is from a book, but i can’t find the text. This is taken from a list of quotes from the movie adaptation.

[st0ned-hope]

i’m seeing a lotta kindness discourse on my dash, so i just wanna add some points that may or may not matter, in the grand scheme of things, but they do matter to me. these include, but are not limited to:

it’s okay to struggle with calling yourself a “good person” or a “kind person”. a lot of us have been manipulated or hurt or otherwise convinced that we are, inherently, bad people, that we’re bad people for mistakes that we’ve made or aspects of our bodies or identities or other things we can’t change or for even being born at all. it’s okay to struggle with that. you can still do kind things and, dare i say, change the world in a positive way, even if you still believe you’re a terrible person, or if you’re still struggling to overcome that belief and the messages you’ve received about that.

just because you struggle with calling yourself a good person or saying that you’re kind, doesn’t mean that everyone else around you has to, as well. it also doesn’t mean that those around you who DO say they’re good people or DO say that they’re kind or have done good or kind things are automatically lying. everyone’s at a different point in their healing journey, & not everyone’s healing journey may include a step in which they have to wonder whether they’re TRULY kind or not, because not everyone has been convinced that they’re not. we’re all on different paths; other people’s paths don’t have to include being hurt or hating themselves for any period of time because yours does. that doesn’t mean yours is invalid, either!

sometimes people say that you can measure kindness because it’s automatically reflected by those around you. i think that’d be nice, but i wouldn’t say that’s 100% universally true across the board. i’ve been in situations (especially on the job) where i’d be nothing but kind to those around me: i’d do my coworkers’ jobs for them, i’d help them out even if i barely had the time, i’d pick up their shifts and cover for them, i’d let them take extra breaks, i’d loan them money, ANYTHING. and these people would still turn around and literally slap my ass, make horrible comments about my body, sexuality, sexual history, and gender, say the most sexist, homophobic, transphobic, etc. things about me that they possibly could, etc. Their inability to meet me with kindness, doesn’t mean that what i was doing wasn’t kind. “oh, if you were TRULY being kind, they wouldn’t’ve said that sexist thing to you-“ no. they were gonna be sexist regardless. and i tried my best to foster an anti-sexist environment, because that’s also an act of kindness towards other people impacted by sexism, but it isn’t defeatist or lazy to accept that, due to the magnitude of other people’s actions and comments, that fell through. that doesn’t mean i wasn’t acting kindly as an individual. and, if you’ve ever been met with hate despite acts of kindness, it doesn’t invalidate your kindness, either. that also brings me to another point…

being met with systemic injustice is a terrible, horrible thing that shouldn’t be allowed to happen but is, due to systems of oppression within our society. (i am based in the US, but absolutely acknowledge that not only is there US-based social injustice that i can’t understand fully due to not being impacted in my, but there is also different aspects and forms of injustice in other countries and societies that i do not experience, nor have an insider’s understanding of, nor do i claim to.) like in the examples with my coworkers: i’d extend an act of kindness; the person on the receiving end would immediately do or say something sexist or objectifying. that doesn’t mean that what i was doing wasn’t actually truly kind, nor does that mean that, if i were to be somehow MORE kind, my kindness would’ve somehow solved sexism or something. I’M ALSO NOT SAYING TO BE KIND TO BIGOTS, OR TO PEOPLE WHO COULD PUT YOUR LIFE IN DANGER OR WHO SUPPORT MESSAGES/SYSTEMS/LAWS/PEOPLE THAT DO. i’m just saying, that was the reality of my workplace. and the fact that i couldn’t single-handedly fix these issues in my previous workplace (i mean, that’s a LONG story, during which i was met with a LOTTA pushback) doesn’t make me lazy, unmotivated, ineffective, or inconsequential- and it also doesn’t mean that any acts of kindness weren’t ACTUALLY acts of kindness. their shitty behavior doesn’t negate what i was doing, how i was behaving, or my worldview; it just means that they, independently, were acting shitty and are socially allowed to. and that needs to change, and i - as i’m sure you are, as well, if you found this post by the way it’s tagged, haha - am committed to making that change, but picking up a coworker’s shift doesn’t necessarily mean i’m gonna singlehandedly solve sexism or transphobia or racism or anything else &, honestly, it SHOULDNT be held to that standard. which brings me to ANOTHER point…

kindness can change the world, i absolutely wholeheartedly believe that. but people can, and sometimes will, make bad-faith arguments against your kindness in favor of their personal biases and bigotry. i’ve been in situations where things like a safe workplace environment, non-discrimination in the workplace, etc. have been dangled in front of me “in exchange for” impossible feats of kindness. because sometimes people do expect a kindness that’s impossible: i once had a manager that promised to make the workplace safer for all marginalized people there… if i’d do his job for him. i tried my hardest (i also made sure to be like “yeah, that’s kinda a really shitty trade off, but it’s also clear you just aren’t willing to do your own job and SOMEONE has to, so”), but i didn’t have his training or experience. it fell through, and he took that as a sign that bigotry in the workplace is okay, actually. that’s SO fucked up. it was a unique workplace environment in which, yeah, doing a manager’s job for them is technically shitty & falling prey to their bullshit, but it literally HAD to be done bc it was about people’s LIVES, but for him to act like a lack of training and a pretty solid, if imperfect, attempt at his workload means that kindness sucks and a safe workplace environment is bogus, that’s just… so THOROUGHLY inappropriate.

anyway, i’m sure i have more, but this is already a pretty long post. i had a really shitty healthcare job that i can use as an example for pretty much everything, and that’s absolutely what i did here, lol.

because i’ve seen people talk down to kindness, twist and pervert kindness to suit their own bigoted agenda, and use others’ kindness to walk all over them. but i still wanna be kind anyway.

so, i dunno. let’s talk about it!

[local-mitski-enjoyer]

it’s such a strange experience to read about what’s happening in gaza, to reblog donation posts, and know that there are people in this world who could fully fund so many of these families and make the money back in minutes, but they just….don’t. there are people so inconceivably rich that it would be pocket change to them. and yet they don’t. there’s no way for them to be in any way unaware of what’s going on right now - not helping is a conscious choice. i mean, i guess you don’t become a billionaire by caring about other people, but still. the reality of it all just hits me sometimes.

and i know that i come from a place of privilege. i’m a white teenager who knows for a fact they’ll have enough to eat and could get medical care if they need it living in a place where i don’t have to worry about bombing or the murder of my family and friends, and when school starts up again next month, my biggest worry will be algebra 3-4 homework, not if they’ll be able to find my little cousins buried under the rubble before it’s too late - if it’s not too late already. i don’t know, maybe this all sounds incredibly pretentious. it’s probably tone deaf in more than a few ways. and i don’t mean to sound defeatist - i genuinely believe that justice /will/ come and the people of palestine /will/ be free - but there are still people suffering, people dying right now. there are people in this world that could help so, so easily. and they simply choose not to.

[thirtyoneflirtingnoneanddying]

12.4

I am needing tumblr to alleviate some twitter fingers rn

I feel like i am in a vacuum

Vanessa told me some viscerally horrific shit this weekend and i am just.. idk man grossed out

Like it’s just coming at a time when I’m already feeling very gross. I am losing my understanding nature in the same moments i am gaining understanding. The more i understand, the less. And vice versa.

I just think this is god awful. I feel bamboozled and kind of like i got played? That’s not the right term. Like i got into it with someone who to them, i could be anyone. And that’s not how i operate. Like, i struck it up with a quitting ass defeatist. Woof! Would have loved to have been more discretionary!

I have to admit, i am still curious. But me in the back pocket is A LOT different than him in the back pocket. That’s a whole energy vampire my guy. I am light free (privileged) determined strong. He is just resilient. But i mean what are landfills if not persisting trash?

Self interest is necessary but when taken to such an unfair place idk like I don’t think I’m owed anything but honesty. And I don’t even think I’m owed that but Jesus Christ. The coward apple didn’t fall far huh WOOF

I hate to feel nasty about things. I just feel like he blew it and he knew he was gonna. I would love to know what the crying was about at lawsons landing. I would LOVE. Because baby that was dead the fumble of your life.

I get going thru a hard time but damn like can we talk about it or am I not important at all? Where did the script flip?

Also I can’t with a man who talks too much to just anyone like baby you gotta heal that in yourself the verbal diarrhea is just……….. like, with anyone? You’ll just spill to any old body what’s going on?

You’ll just chase every crush down and then what. For real then what? Once you get one you……..what?

I just can’t imagine being shook by this guy. Like okay! You wanna see no strings attached? Absolutely. Aaaaaabsolutely.

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 9: Thoughts

Just got out of the shower. Surveying the wasted wreckage of this week.

I feel like I should have taken yesterday off. As a sick day. I sort of knew it at the time but I felt so guilty for being a big part of the reason I felt as bad as I did, but honestly, who cares? I had no business being at work. I did almost nothing. Most of what I did is probably riddled with errors. And also most importantly, I’m a human being, and I am in such bad shape right now.

Anyway, I don’t mean to complain. I’m just… not really sure of anything right now. I know I’ve done damage to myself and I’m not sure how much or how to fix it. I slept for 14 hours last night. I woke up and thought it had only been 1 hour (it was raining at the time so there wasn’t much natural light). I got up to get a painkiller for my headache and then lay back down, but then I was like, why am I so awake if I only slept an hour? And then I realized the real time. So that’s a lot of disorientation.

I have pretty well decided that it’s not possible to finish my Troped fic on time. I know I still have a decent chunk of time and so that might sound very defeatist but I also know how much of the outline I have left and… it would really take a lot to finish. Maybe I’m not at the point where it’s impossible but I am at the point where it would require a gargantuan effort to finish on time, more than I have expended yet probably, and the amount of effort I want to spend is actually trending in the opposite direction. I think that this challenge has been good for me: writing a lot, prioritizing writing—my word count for August is probably equal to my whole writing word count for the calendar year so far tbh. But I think I’ve gotten to the end of the benefits. I don’t want to stress about it. I don’t want this hobby to be a problem or a burden.

All of which probably sounds pretty obvious. You don’t feel like you’re having fun anymore doing something that is not in any way a requirement for you? Then stop! But I do feel guilty. I am disappointed. And I do worry that if I slow down TOO much, I’ll lose the thread or just not finish or end up with another WIP haunting me on that list I’m trying to whittle down.

I don’t want to stop working on it. That’s not the plan. The plan is just to stop worrying about the dates, to work on it with some speed and as a priority but not to completely give up doing anything else and to also take my time to edit and so on. One thing that’s becoming tough is that, as it’s a time loop, I have to re-write scenes and I’m… not interested in doing that and I also worry that that is coming through. I wasn’t worried about it but I’ve started editing and I’m on the first loop and I feel like it’s not sufficiently clear what is happening physically, since I’m so deep in a character’s head, trying not to be repetitive but to give a point of view on the whole thing.

So. I still have a certain fire to get it over with because I want to move on to other things and I want to post but I don’t think I can continue t care about the deadline. Have I convinced myself yet? I still do want to write tomorrow and I am still excited for these next scenes. I think I might… still toying with this… post the first part toward the point where the deadline hits. It’s a gamble: if people like it, it could inspire me to keep writing. If there’s just crickets, it might demoralize me. We’ll see.

[heavysunsky]

Road of the dead walkthrough

Melee Units Should Be Backed by Ranged Units all of you!" – Agent Milton to the gang in "The Battle of Shady Belle"

" Who made you the messiah to these lost souls?" – Agent Milton to Dutch van der Linde, in " The Battle of Shady Belle".

" And you've as good as killed him yourself." – Edith Downes, about her husband Thomas, in " Sodom? Back to Gomorrah".

" Turned into a bunch of killers, I mean it." – Hosea Matthews to Dutch van der Linde, right before " A Strange Kindness".

" Don't make me beg you, Arthur." – Mary Linton, in " We Loved Once and True II".

Lines recalled in previous missions High Honor

The name of the mission is a metaphor for a deciding moment in life or history, when a major choice of options is required.

It is triggered when attempting to meet Sadie Adler for the mission " Icarus and Friends".

This is the only mission that isn't marked on the map.

If Arthur does not have any money on him, the Good Samaritan will give him ten dollars so that he can pay for the doctor visit.

However, Arthur wasn't present when Hosea said this, so he therefore wouldn't remember it.

One of the lines that Arthur remembers in this mission if his honor is high is "If we don't stop soon we'll all be dying", said by Hosea in " Outlaws from the West".

Barnes comforts him with the line that Arthur will remember on his final ride in the " Red Dead Redemption" mission if his honor is high: "I'm really sorry for you, son, it's a hell of a thing."

During this mission, when Arthur discovers that he has tuberculosis, Dr.

Additionally, Arthur will lose his stocky appearance and will look underweight, even at perfect weight, after this mission. The only way to fully refill any cores if fully empty while sick is to sleep. He will also gain a limited amount of benefits from food and drinks, resulting in only coughing and a pop-up reminder of being sick if he has too much.

Once this mission is completed, Arthur will be sick with tuberculosis for the remainder of his playthrough, which also reduces all of his cores by 20%.

" Doctor's Opinion" - Played when Arthur is diagnosed with tuberculosis.

RDR2 PC - Mission 63 - A Fork in the Road Replay & Gold Medal Background Music Played in the Mission

Complete within 3 minutes and 5 seconds.

At the end, Arthur sees a coyote gazing at him in the distance before scarpering away and vanishing. The quotes that Arthur recalls are negative, foreboding and defeatist, with ominous music. Low Honor: The colour scheme of the trance is grey, reflecting fog. At the end, Arthur sees a buck in the distance that gazes at him before running away and disappearing. The quotes Arthur recalls are positive, reassuring and reflective, with somber music. High Honor: The colour scheme of Arthur's trance is golden yellow, reflecting sunlight. Arthur subsequently exits the surgery and falls into a trance, remembering various quotes from people that differ according to Honor level. Barnes injects a syringe with steroids into Arthur's arm, in order to give him "a little bit more energy" for the day. Arthur responds with sarcasm and says it isn't possible, then begins to get up and leave.īefore leaving, Dr. The doctor informs him that tuberculosis is a progressive disease, and gives Arthur advice to go somewhere warm and dry. Upon hearing the bad news, Arthur expresses disbelief. Before he starts examining him, he asks for a payment in order to help him, which Arthur quickly gives.Īfter an examination of his ear, breathing, and mouth, Arthur is then given the diagnosis of tuberculosis. Barnes, who brings him to his surgery room. He wakes up to find a stranger dragging and helping him to the doctor's office, where he is greeted by a spooked receptionist, prompting her to call on Doctor Joseph R. Once Arthur arrives near the mission area, in Saint Denis, he starts having a major coughing fit until he passes out.

4 Background Music Played in the Mission.