#Increase Railing Height

[qqueenofhades]

I am FULLY ONBOARD the Harris/Waltz train, tho before this i was leaning towards Mark Kelly (AZ is a swing state! He's an ASTRONAUT!) If you want or have time, no pressure, but any thoughts on what makes Waltz a better pick?

I like Mark Kelly too, and since he's married to Gabby Giffords (having run for public office after she got shot and could no longer do so) he would have been an amazing pick in terms of supporting the first female POTUS. But he is a less charismatic public speaker than Walz (for whatever that's worth, but politics is a mess of Aesthetics and Vibes that matter as much and/or more than actual facts) and more moderate/conservative. He's been a great senator and picking him would defuse some of the BORDER IMMIGRATION BLAH BLAH!!! scaremongering that Republicans love to run on, but it would also leave open the possibility of losing a special election and other dangers with the Democratic senate that we really need to minimize. So Walz is a better choice for that alone, but also:

He really has serious progressive credentials as governor, even if he was a fairly mainstream Democrat (who flipped a rural red House district in Minnesota that Democrats have not been able to win again after he left) during his 12 years in the House. This is an INCOMPLETE LIST of what he was able to do in two years with a one-seat Democratic majority in Minnesota:

A Climate Action Plan that included:

Investing in energy infrastructure

100% carbon-free electricity by 2040 goal

Transition off of fossil fuels and onto clean energy resources

Building more electric vehicle charging stations

Providing funding to help workers acquire new skills through apprenticeship programs in clean energy fields

Direct state funding for transit

Money for rail

Tax credit for e-bikes

Permitting form to fast-track clean energy projects

And that was in addition to:

Codified abortion access in Minnesota

Guaranteed paid sick time and paid family and medical leave

Funded replacing ALL LEAD PIPES IN THE STATE

Free school breakfasts and lunches for all

Made public college free

Stronger labor protections

Drivers’ Licenses for All

Voting Rights Act to reverse recent court rulings that make voting harder, including restored voting rights to convicted felons

Banning medical debt from credit bureaus

The "Taylor Swift Bill" requiring all ticket "junk fees" be shown up front

Banning most "junk fees"

No book bans

Protection for tipped workers

Banned non-competes

Legalized recreational cannabis

Gun control, including increased penalties for straw purchases of firearms, expanded background checks and enacted red-flag laws, passing gun safety measures that the GOP has thwarted for years

Made MN a Trans Refuge State, and required health plans to cover “medically necessary gender-affirming care.”

Pay increase for Uber and Lyft drivers

Elimination of the so-called “gay panic defense”

A ban on “doxxing” election workers

A prohibition on “swatting” elected officials

In March, during the height of the Gaza/uncommitted primary protests against Biden, Walz said that young people should be listened to and they had a right to be speaking up and the situation in Gaza was horrible and intolerable, without directly slamming Biden or getting involved in the issue in a way to draw negative headlines. Regardless of what you think about any of it, that is a very deft way to handle it and pairs well with Kamala's better responsiveness on the Gaza issue overall. That was a big part of the reason why Gen Z/younger voters were very excited about Walz despite him being an "old" (actually the same age as Kamala but he has joked that teaching high school for 20 years will do that to a guy) white guy. If half the battle in politics is making the right pick to excite your core voters and reach out to new ones, then Harris nailed it. As I have said in earlier posts, there was just too much energy with young voters FINALLY checking in when Harris became the candidate, to risk introducing a big ideological split with Shapiro.

Aside from that: the most insufferable Smart White-Bro Political Pundits (TM) are big mad about Walz, many Never Trumper Republicans thought they were entitled to a "moderate" in exchange for oh-so-generously lending us their vote against Trump and not run the risk that we might end up with someone *gasp* progressive, and the regular MAGA Republicans are hysterical, which means they're terrified. It's also incredibly hard to paint Literal Midwestern Stereotype Dad (football coach, social studies high school teacher, military veteran, etc) as THE EVIL END OF AMERICA in the way they desperately want to do, though the fact that they're trying shows that they've got literally nothing. The fact that Kamala picked Walz against the PREVAILING WISDOM!!! that she had to take Shapiro (for whatever reason that might have been) is also a good sign, because by far the most genuine and extensive enthusiasm that I have seen from Democratic voters, especially those feeling burned out or disillusioned or angry with specific policy choices of the current administration, was for Walz. Having everyone excited for the pick beforehand, effectively using the "weird" line, and rallying behind the guy, only for her to actually go for him, is inspiring. It makes people feel like they're being heard and the Democrats have decided to win by being progressive, and not just endlessly Catering To The (Imaginary) Middle as they have always been told to do (and often done). That alone is MASSIVE.

Walz is tremendously funny, personable, has Democrats from AOC to Joe Manchin praising it (again, shocking), was right out the gate supporting Kamala, has already been majorly successful on TV, was by far the most progressive-on-policy picks of the VP finalists, is incredibly, hilariously wholesome and small-town Midwestern (he's the JD Vance that they wish JD Vance was), and is already sending ActBlue gangbusters with donations again. And when you're getting this kind of response on the Cursed Bird Hellsite, just:

Just. I don't know what's happening either. But let's enjoy it, and then work hard, because we gotta fucking do this and for possibly the first time this entire year, I really think we might. Heck yeah.

[tansyuduri]

Chapter 13 Of Our Stars Still Shine Together

It was sunset by the time they stepped onto a capsule of the London Eye. Merlin looked around their roomy capsule as they entered, taking in the clear glass and white material of the pod.

Arthur immediately moved forward to gaze out, holding the metal bar that looped around the pod.

Merlin could see the excitement and eagerness in his eyes. He felt his own eyes crinkle up slightly as he smiled. It was nice to see Arthur like this. All excited and enthusiastic. Though there was a bit of nervousness in Arthur’s face as well. At the height? They were not even high up yet. And Arthur had never been afraid of heights…

“It usually takes a half hour to get all the way around so we have some time.” Merlin mused, then went to stand next to his king and the love of his life. His own long hands ran over the railing.

Arthu put away his phone. “In that case we’ll have to wait to take pictures.” 

“Is that why you wanted to come here? To take pictures?”

Arthur gave Merlin a smile that made his heart turn over and then scooted closer to him. “Partly.” His king admitted. “I had other things I wanted to do as well.” There was a low sensual tone to his voice.  

“I like other things.” Merlin moved ever closer to the man so that their hips touched. “But if you try to fuck me here I will have to draw a line.” 

Arthur sputtered. “What? Here? With everyone… No!”

“Good.” Merlin replied.

“Good.” Arthur said as well.

There was a pause as they continued to ascend. Merlin admired how the fading sun and beautiful sky contrasted with the colors of Arthur’s skin and hair.

He turned his head and lifted a hand to grab Arthur’s before kissing him deeply.

Arthur’s arms wrapped around him and his mouth met Merlin’s tenderly and passionately. It was a softer kiss to start but quickly started to increase in intensity as they breathed each other's air. Merlin pulled Arthur closer to him and found his king had the same idea. He tilted his head to the side, exploring the angles Arthur’s lips could press to his. It felt so right. It felt like home. 

How had he gone so long without doing this? Kissing Arthur seemed as crucial to him as drinking water and breathing air nowadays. And there were no words for the warm softness that spread through him at Arthur’s touch. There were no words for what this meant, for having Arthur like this. Suddenly Merlin knew what else he needed. As much as sunlight, as much as air. He would handle it if… if it didn’t work out but…

Merlin stood back as they neared the top of the wheel. Time passed so quickly when kissing Arthur. He took a step back, prepared himself and then looked up to meet Arthur’s curious eyes. The sunset colored the sky behind them golden red. Camelot colors. 

“Arthur, when we go into this fight… or whatever we will face…. I want us to be together in another way… I want us to be engaged. Arthur, I want us to be engaged.”

Find it here

Art by @kairennart

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

I read your NSFW Makeout HC for Nat, Seele, and Bronya. Could you do one for Stelle and Firefly?

(Honkai: Star Rail) Makeout HC's with Stelle and Firefly

Mild NSF-W under the cut!

Quoth the Futaba: "OOF, I THIRST"

Stelle's kisses are strong.

Her lips crash onto S/O's, for lack of a better term.

Stelle's fingers grip onto their shoulders, pulling them close to her as she closes her eyes.

Her tongue is not far behind, as they brush against S/O's lips, waiting for entry.

As soon as there's an opening, she moans as her kiss grows deeper, her arms lowering onto S/O's back and laying down on top of them.

The weight of her small body is entirely on S/O, only coming back for air for a few seconds before plunging back in.

Despite how short she is, Stelle's strength is nothing to scoff at, which was evident anytime she began making out with her S/O.

Whether she wants them on top or bottom, they are not moving.

All the better for her as she tilts her head to a more comfortable angle, taking her time and enjoying S/O's taste.

Pulling back, there is a thin strand of saliva connecting both of their lips.

Even though there's an ever-increasing blush on her face, it doesn't stop her from panting and continuing where she left off, her hands growing bolder in where they explored by the second.

Firefly at first makes an absolutely adorable squeak the moment S/O's lips brush against her cheek.

It takes her a second to register what happened before giggling, and then giving S/O a light peck on the lips.

And depending if S/O wants to continue, the pecks evolve into longer kisses, which Firefly's twilight eyes close as she slowly leans further into them.

Both her arms are pressing against their cheeks as she stands on her toes to properly reach S/O if they were taller, repeating the same action even if they were near the same height.

Regardless, Firefly starts humming with every kiss, flinching a little in surprise once she feels their tongue.

With a deep sigh, Firefly lets her tongue twirl around theirs, her soft moans growing increasingly louder.

Even though such a passionate act was getting heated, Firefly still took it slow, letting her mind go blank.

Firefly absolutely loved kissing, feeling S/O's arms wrap around her as she did the same.

With her strength, it doesn't take much for her to either push S/O onto their back and have them stay, or keep them on top of her.

Despite her more shy nature when it came to these things, depending on how she was feeling that day, she can easily go from very submissive to the one initiating the makeout.

After all, this act was fueled by love, and Firefly wanted to show how much she loved S/O.

[rizsu]

“satoru? you okay?” you ask, “you're zoning out a lot.” sipping on your juicebox, your eyebrows furrow in concern. something's wrong with gojo today—he's distant, unresponsive and quiet. he's there physically but he's not there.

gojo responds with a hum, turning his head to you before speaking, “i'm okay, y/n.” he plasters an artificial grin as he shoves his hands in his pockets, jumping off the railing whistling before he continues again, “you ready to leave?”

suspicion clouds your mind. he's deflecting, you think. if there's another thing gojo's a master at, it's deflecting. a sour taste enters your mouth as a strong feeling overwhelms you. something's telling you gojo's on the brink of breaking.

concluding that it's best to not pressure him, you jump down to him. “ya, let's go!” slinging an arm over his shoulder, you match steps with him, bringing up random subjects to help him clear his mind a bit.

──

the mind's a scary place. in the mind holds countless thoughts, each holding different emotions. some people disliked being left in their mind, gojo enjoyed it. gojo relished in the feeling—the unhealthy feeling, though, it only held insanity; it's home to distasteful, unfiltered thoughts.

gojo sinks into the soft mattress, one arm resting over his eyes as he grins yet again. he thinks it's funny—hilarious, even. who is he? he questions himself, but rather, what is he? what is his purpose?

for all his life, he never felt like himself. he disassociated from reality more than he let utahime chew off his ears. he feels unlike himself but did he even know himself?

gojo satoru, nonchalant to his peers yet disregards all respects for his enemies.

gojo satoru, the pride of the gojo clan.

gojo satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer.

gojo satoru, gojo satoru.

again, his head feels fuzzy. swallowing a harsh gulp, he feels his mouth go dry, his heart rate increases each second, static covering his vision, he's near his limit.

humans feared the dark, ready to dismiss it but gojo greets it—he greets it with hazed eyes and his signature playful smile.

when's the last time gojo's let himself go? he wonders, looking for the absent answer. cold sweat introduces itself to the stage named ‘gojo’. he clenches his jaw hard, cracking his knuckles in attempts to distract himself.

the tsunami (insanity) grows in height each second. it sneers at the humans (gojo) below, grinning at the fear-instilled bodies before it crashes, dominating and marking the area (gojo's mind) as its own. it muffles the ear-bleeding noise (his remaining sanity) as it finally settles in—crashing everything like a tyrant overtaking his soon-to-be throne.

you again, huh? gojo thinks. he talks to himself, looking at the bloodied teenager. he, the teenager, is wrecked—beaten yet standing. a shadow blocks off everything on his face but one eye that illuminates in gojo's view.

it's a one versus one. a fight with himself; a fight with one of his many versions. to be honest, he'd rather have a battle with six year old gojo.

gojo turns off his infinity, though there's not a single reason to but he doesn't know that. he's already given into the feeling that's been creeping around him like a cat creeping around some tuna.

in gojo's mind currently, he's being attacked by everything. geto, toji, random people and curses he killed, himself, hell even sukuna; they're all at him at once.

he doesn't know why nor does he want to know. all he hopes for is that someone—more specifically you—brings him back to his damned reality.

──

“should i..? but it's kinda late...” mumbling to yourself, you fight your demons for an answer. your watch reads “11:27 PM” and your right consciousness tells you to leave, he's probably asleep but your demons tell you to open that damn door. 

you'd leave if you didn't suddenly remember the way he was lost in his head earlier. “you know what, fuck it.” you say to yourself before announcing your arrival, “satoru, 'm here!”

no response, which isn't uncommon yet the aggravated pores say otherwise. kicking your shoes off at the door, you enter his living room. it's dimly lit showing little signs of activity. did he even eat dinner? you question before resting the brown bag of snacks on his counter.

humming in disapproval, you quietly wander until you reach his room's door. a dark energy emits from under the door—almost as if a grade a curse broke in. clicking your tongue, you knock softly on his door, “satoru?”

yet again, no response. maybe he's really asleep, you think but the overwhelming feeling that something isn't right forces you into his room.

in your vision lies gojo—a raw gojo. there he lays, a numb body with an expressionless face, eyes red but closed. taking quiet steps to his bed, you sit on the edge brushing his fringe gently with a finger.

with that, he opens his eyes. he looks drained, tired, done; his body feels unreal—as if it's not his own. pushing the weak feeling aside, he greets you with another artificial smile and a hoarse voice saying “hey.”

he looks at your worried expression yet does nothing to soothe it. usually, he'd crack a stupid joke but he doesn't have the energy. even breathing tires him out.

you don't talk to him—at least not yet. right now you're busying yourself with the state he's in. his face holds little energy, his chest moves up and down in slowed rhythm, his adam's apple constantly dances at his every swallow, his eyes show no emotion that's not exhaustion. in short: he's done and completely dusted.

“you caved in again, didn't you?” questioning him with intentions of receiving an answer, you turn around to reach for your bottle of water.

“i guess i did.” he answered, eyes following your moves as he doesn't know what to focus on.

sneaking a hand under his head, you move the bottle to his lips, gesturing for him to drink. gojo accepts the water, downing at least half before laying back down. he sighs deeply, closing his eyes again as the aftermath of his episode settles in.

“wanna talk about it?”

“nah, i'm just chilling with the consequences y'know.”

“satoru.”

“my bad.” quick to apologise, a light laugh escapes him before he sits up to match you.

leaning against the headboard, gojo pulls you into frame, snaking his arms around your waist as he sinks his head into your shoulder. you lean into him, raising a hand to pat his head before speaking.

“how about we relax in the bath, hmm?”

“inna few,” he replies, tightening his grip on you before he continues, “just stay like this, please.”

you whisper a soft “okay” while you play with his hand, intertwining your fingers before bringing them to your lips for a kiss.

[greyyson-but-no]

five small moments | tommyinnit

let me know if you want me to do another one of these. they're really fun [not chronological order but can be from the same relationship]. tommyinnit x fem!reader

1 - tickling them from behind before hugging them [318]

you stood at the kitchen counter, stirring the tea with mossy cobblestone by bears in trees echoing from the speaker in the office. today it was only you and tom in the office, having the whole place to yourself as tommy streamed from his individual room and you edited on the shared computer for a new video that was supposed to come out tomorrow.

being so into the music (since it was tommy's playlist), you didn't hear tommy exit his office to sneak up behind you. a shriek came from you as his hands swiftly moved to your waist and tickled against the exposed skin. your heart rate increased slightly as a laugh came from you, tommy burying his face into your neck, pressing a tickling kiss to the skin there as well.

"tommy!" you laughed, listening as he laughed as well, squeezing your waist as the tickling came to a stop.

he moved his arms around your waist, pulling you against his front, a chin on your shoulder. the hoodie he was wearing engulfed you, and suddenly you were the calmest you'd been in ages. suddenly the song turned to ultimately by khai dreams and tommy was slowly starting to move to a sway, along with the soft beat of his favourite artist.

"tommy..." you asked slowly, head rested back against his shoulder, at the perfect height. "what are you doing?"

your boyfriend chuckled softly, enjoying the confusion. "nothing in particular. enjoy my time, that's all."

"you're cute." you giggled at him, turning around in his arms to pull him into a tighter hug, head against his chest. his arms move from around your waist to your shoulders as he holds you tighter than before. nowhere else did you feel as safe, nowhere else made you feel like you didn't need to be anywhere else. with tommy, you knew you were the safest you possibly could be.

2 - knuckles brushing against each others and getting shy [367]

the london vlog had been in the works for a few weeks now, but since ranboo could only just get to the uk in the past week, it could only have been filmed now. london was busy as hell, as usual, but that was good because it meant there were lots of distractions to keep the video on its toes.

tubbo and ranboo were walking ahead of you and tommy as the four of you walked down southbank. somehow, you and tommy had gotten distracted by the skateboarders under the bridge and so tubbo and ranboo were a few meters ahead. it didn't take them long to notice, but ranboo immideately noticed how close the two of you were standing together.

soon enough, the camera was directed at the two of you. "what do you think they're talking about?" tubbo asked, zooming in with the camera.

"i dunno, but they're both being rather cute about it, huh." ranboo declared.

it was then that your hand dropped from the railing, falling to your side and so close to tommy's hand that both ranboo and tubbo noticed, one of them reaching over to zoom the camera even more onto your hands brushing up against each others.

"just hold her hand, dude!" ranboo whispers, loud enough so that the camera can hear it. and then there were the actual skin touching. an obvious shy attempt of tommy's to hold your hand but the action was taken over by nerves as he pulled away and shoved his hands into his pockets. "c'mon!" ranboo cried, tubbo raising a hand in disbelief.

"i've been telling him to ask her out for months now." tubbo explained. "they're both idiots, though."

"they're both idiots whether its to do with the fact that they like each other not, toby." ranboo laughed, shoving tubbo slightly. "come on, lets walk on, they'll catch up eventually."

both you and tommy felt the disappointment in yourself that you didn't make the move that day. tommy was sure to get a teasing by both tubbo and ranboo during the sleepover thatg occured that same night. maybe he would ask you out the next day. since you were seeing each other anyway.

3 - one small kiss before a passionate one [484]

tommy held your hand at your front door, the moon high in the sky above the two of you as he smiled down at you. nothing in that moment could have taken the grin off your face. the first date with him went so much better than you expecting, a goofy session of bowling in town ending up in the park and getting locked in. he had hefted you over the fence to get out, both landing on your sides and not being able to get up from stomach-pain inducing laughter.

"thank you tommy." you smiled, watching as a chuckled sligjtly under his breath. "i had a really fun time tonight."

you felt his hand squeeze yours slightly. "even when we got stuck in the park."

"even when we got stuck into the park, yes." you nodded.

suddenly a comfortable silence took over, the rush of traffic at the end of the road and a slight breezing being the only sound. it wasn't bad, and you were even about to invite tommy inside. maybe to watch a movie or something, but he spoke first. it was a question that you certainly hadn't been expecting - but in no way does that mean you didn't want it.

"can i kiss you?" and maybe the nod you answered with was a little too eager.

tommy was still hesitant, though, reaching a hand slowly up to rest against the skin of your cheek, thumb caressing the skin slightly. it took you to nod again for him to lean down finally and press his lips against yours. it was everything you expected and more, but over too soon. nerves got the better of him and he pulled away, making it a simple little peck. not enough.

"sorry." he mumbles, a hand lifted away from your cheek and going around the back of his head to scratch the back of his neck.

your eyes softened, noticing how shy he became all of a sudden. it wasn't the tommy you really knew, but it was sweet and even endearing. you knew that he would appreicate the move you wanted to take, so you took it immediately. a hand reaching up to his wrist, using it to pull him down against your lips again. a longer, more eager kiss that represented how much you liked him. how much you wanted to ask him inside because somehow this boy had gotten you more smitten than with anyone else.

and when you pulled back, you didn't miss the excited look in his eyes that said he really did appraicte the move you made. that, and the small gasp he let out as he stood up straight. "woah."

"you're welcome." you laughed, grabbing his hand again. "i really don't want to say goodbye. did you wanna come inside and watch a movie?"

tommy smiled again, nodding. "only if there's popcorn."

"you under estimate me, tom."

4 - playing with each others hair [291]

the lion king was playing on the tv in front of you. the soft pillow that was your boyfriend was laying beneath you, arms wrapped tight around your waist, his face buried in your hair. ignoring the obstacle of the blanket that was laid over the two of you, you swiftly spun yourself around so that you were kaying stomach to stomach with tommy, being able to see the grin on his face when he saw yours.

"hi." he smiled.

you didn't say anything, just pressing a kiss against his forehead and resting your head alongisde his, nose against his hair. he moves so that there's one hand around your waist and the other moves up to your hair, twirling a strand of his around his fingers.

his hair didn't smell the same, though. instead of his usual shampoo smell he always had, there were a softer, more familiar smell to it that you recognised. you pulled away from him and frowned at him. "did you use my shampoo?"

"maybe..." he grinned slyly. "i ran out of mine, that's all."

you giggled at his words, a hand now in his hair, brushing the fluffiness around and twirling it inbetween your fingers. "no i don't mind at all. it's made it really soft."

tommy mumbled something, smiling up at you and pressing a surprising peck against your nose. "maybe i should use it more often, then."

"well, i certainly won't be complaining." you laughed, letting your hand fall from his hair and onto his chest, cushioned by his favourite hoodie. you let your head also fall onto his chest, feeling his arms squeeze you tightly as you closed your eyes and let yourself be comfortable around him. oh, how you loved him.

5 - small comforts while the other is crying [545]

your eyes were hot with tears that fell down onto your cheeks and then to the floor, some landing on your shoes as you ran up the stairs that led to his apartment. you didn't know why you had come here it seemed like he was the only that could comfort you enough to get you out of a mood like this.

the knock on his door was weak. weak enough that you were worried he wasn't going to hear it, but then you hear him call 'i'm coming!' from inside and all most of your nerves were gone. and just a second later, the door swung open, revealing tommy in jeans and that same hoodie you loved, his arms dropping from the edge of the door and the grin on his face dropping as he saw the look on your face and the tears in your eyes.

"love." he murmurs. "come here, oh my god."

you practically fell into him, the softed of his hoodie instantly becoming home and the sense of inevitable doom slowly whitling away into nothing. just a figment of your imagination. there were a small close of his door before he took your hand in his as he took you into the living room. he told you to ignore the show that was playing on the tv but you cold help but check to see whether you had seen it. you had.

he settled you on the sofa, taking you immeditely into his arms again, his cheek resting against your hair, unconsciously rocking you back and forth. worried started to overtake him, though, as thoughts of what could have caused this breakdown on you entered his mind. if it was something, he would make sure you never had to do it again; if it was someone, he would make sure whoever it was apologised and you got revenge.

but you were more important. "do you wanna talk about it? what happened, lovely?"

"uhh." your voice was shakey as you pulled away from him, using your sleeve to wipe the tears from your cheeks. "i can't-" you paused, gathering your thoughts. "i can't remember. i just suddenly felt so alone, there was no one around and i just felt so lonely so i thought i would come to see you and on the way i thought you wouldn't want me to interupt your day off so i turned back but then i started crying and now i'm here and i don't know why and i'm so sorry, oh god, you probably don't want me here-"

tommy laughed as he pressed his hand up against your mouth, stopping your fast train of thoughts in an instant. "you're rambling, love."

"sorry." you mumbled from under his mouth. he took it away frmo your face and took your hand in his again.

"you've got nothing to be sorry for." he explained, "i told you when i moved here that you could pop around any time you wanted and i wouldn't care less. you mean the world to me, and i couldn't stand you being lonely, ever. please, i'd rather you be here and not feel isolated than suffer at home."

you smiled, sniffing and leaning your head onto his shoulder. "yeah. thank you."

"always." he smiled, and your worries came to an end.

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Seven

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Will the Delphi family have the answers you seek?

Warning: language, ethnic slur, supernatural (kind of)

ao3 Link | Catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 7: Vagabond

Go and see the sorcerer, look into a ball. You might find the answer written on the wall. The left one was a dancer, can you see the answer, oh? Put her in a mansion on top of the hill.

Please, don’t make her do things against her will. I found something special, I don’t know why. Looking into her pretty little eye, ‘cause I’ll tell you everything about being free.

— Vagabond, Wolfmother

The cool air hit your skin as your lungs took in a deep breath, a familiar mix of sea salt and flowers. The wind whipped your long hair from your shoulders, lifting through your chiton dress and twirling the fabric around you.

You leaned against the railing of the garden’s terrace and took in the view. From your height, you could see the ocean from every angle beyond the mass of the city beneath you - one of the perks of living on a peninsula, you always thought.

Your father and brothers would be quick to tell you the perks from a combative standpoint, but that was for them to worry about.

The sky grew golden with the descent of the sun and a warm feeling crept threw your chest at the anticipation of what you knew would follow.

“Please,” you whispered your prayer, closing your eyes as the light in the sky began to dim.

“Your Highness.”

The deep voice felt like a warm blanket as it wrapped around your shoulders. You turned to find the object of your selfish prayers as he stood before you.

The palace gardener. The young man with the golden eyes and the sharp cheek bones. Who you met every day at sunset as he tended to your favorite place in the whole world. The place where you’d talked for hours, days on end since he started working at the palace.

Where, as of a moment ago when your prayers betrayed your desires, you realized you’d fallen in love.

“I’m so sorry,” you felt the tears begin to well just behind your eyes, swallowing thick to try and collect yourself. “I made a vow, a promise, a fealty to another.”

“A prince?” he asked politely.

You narrowed your eyes at his reaction, expecting him to be hurt, upset, even angry. But in the light of the moon, you caught the uptick of his cheek as a smirk threatened at his full lips.

“A god,” you replied, your heartbeat increasing as he took a step toward you. “I’ve promised myself to priesthood. I didn’t expect you —“

His smirk turned into a smile as he rose his hand to your face. “My love, you prayed for me, to me.”

Your eyes searched the meaning behind his words. The gold of his irises began to shine, then burn.

“My Lord,” you whispered, realization washing over you like a vase of cold water.

“What I didn’t expect,” your gardener — your god — went on as his thumb gently ran across your cheek down to your chin before catching your bottom lip, “was to fall for you.”

The wind was stolen from your lungs at his admission before he pulled your face up to meet your lips with his own. The kiss made your body feel like it was being consumed by the sun and you poured your own love into the unspoken act.

You pulled away, eyes wet with tears and cheeks tight with a smile, your body consumed with love as you met his eyes again.

You gasped — where you’d expected to see the warm golden eyes of the man you loved, instead they were ice blue. Cold, angry, hardened of any care you thought was there.

A terrible, horrible feeling began to consume your body as you felt unable to breathe. The man before you grabbed at your arms, this time with hatred and malice.

“I curse you, Cassandra! From this day forward—”

“Y/N!”

You jerked awake, the feeling of two hands holding you caused you to panic, the feeling of impending doom still lingering over you as your heart rate beat out of control. Pushing away, you tried to fight against the hold.

“Y/N, look at me!”

You stilled long enough for the hands to turn you toward the body attached to them, your eyes finally clearing as they met another.

Cold, ice blue eyes.

You gasped in fright, your brain fog still telling you you were in danger, the face of the man from your dreams come to life before you. But the eyes were different than they’d been before. Softer, kinder, worried.

“Fuck, Y/N, it’s me! It’s Tommy — look at me!”

“Tommy,” you repeated, your breathing finally slowing as the fog began to lift.

The eyes that you’d once been afraid of brought you comfort as you searched them. Tommy seemed to recognize that you were coming back, because he breathed out a sigh of relief as he lifted his hand to your cheek. You flinched for a moment, but at the warmth of his palm you leaned your head into it, your breath finally slowing enough for you to look around.

You were still in the seat of the wagon, which was currently stopped as the horse in front of you bent forward to eat.

“You fell asleep,” Tommy spoke again softly as he kept watching you, as if knowing that you were still working your way back to him. “You were dreaming.”

Dreaming. It was a dream.

As if a dam had broken, you gasped for air as the tears began to fall. It was a strangled cry, one of defeat and emotional pain. The dream, the loss, the confusion of being in this place, of being ripped from everything and having everything ripped from you.

“Hey, hey,” you heard Tommy say softly before you felt arms wrap around you and pull you into him. You gripped his shirt in an attempt to stable yourself, pushing your face into his chest. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

He pulled you back to look at him, taking your face between his hands again, doing a sweep with his eyes across your face.

“I’m okay,” you finally said, your cheeks still wet and breathing still deep, but you were back. You looked around to see that the sun was low in the sky. “Where are we?”

Tommy watched you for a second longer, dropping his hands and straightening in the seat. “Just outside of the Delphi camp. Johnny Dogs went ahead to let them know of our arrival and make sure it was safe.”

As if on cue, the sound of footsteps pulled both of your attentions forward as Johnny emerged from the hilltop, accompanied with another.

“Tommy,” you grabbed his hand and his head snapped back to you. “You have to tell me about your dream. The one in France.”

His brow furrowed and you spied a flush at his cheeks, “Now? Is now the best time for this?”

“Please,” you whispered out in almost a pathetic plea.

Not sure why, but you were overcome with the feeling that time was running out. And despite your hesitations, you needed to know now more than ever what Tommy’s dream was about. And more urgently, if it had anything to do with the one you’d just had.

“You said you saw me. Were we in a garden? Something ancient, with long tunics and dressings?”

Tommy’s face continued to contort into confusion. “A garden? No, now look. I don’t know what just fucking happened there with you — you looked like some of the men back from war. But Johnny Dogs is about to be here. We’ll have to be on guard in this place, with these people — they’re dangerous when offended. There’s a reason why they’ve been able to survive as long as they have. Be careful what you say, what you give away.”

The part of your brain that was catching up with the present more quickly than the other wanted to scold Tommy for not telling you such information sooner. You liked to be prepared for a situation before walking in. But, whether it was because he still didn’t trust you, or because he was just so used to keeping secrets for himself, he was putting you in yet another situation where you felt you were playing catch up.

This seemed to snap your brain back to itself. You nodded, momentarily forgetting your dream and Tommy’s as the two men approached you both.

“Follow us,” said the Delphi member.

Johnny Dogs sent Tommy an unspoken look along with a nod. Tommy must have interpreted it as a sign to do as the other man said and follow, calling out for the horse to walk on as the two men walked alongside the animal to steer it.

“It wasn’t a dream,” Tommy said in a whisper, eyes still facing forward. You moved your head to look at him but saw him shake his head. Adjusting back to the front, he went on. “Or maybe it was, I’m not sure. In the tunnels we uncovered an enemy explosive, the ricochet of it sent me backwards, cut at my chest. I was layin’ in the mud when my team found me, covered in blood.”

You took a deep breath, not daring to interrupt him or react in a way that would draw you both attention.

“In the dream,” Tommy continued, his voice barely loud enough for even you to hear. “I just saw you, not us. You were wearing a shirt — it was long, stoppin’ at your…” he cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed by his own dream but he pushed through, “thighs. You appeared to have nothing else on. The top was an odd thing in a dark blue color with a pyramid and a rainbow on it.”

Pink Floyd, you identified, the shirt in question appearing in your memory. It was your favorite sleeping shirt — old, soft, and baggy enough for you to walk around your flat like it was a dress. It was the shirt you were wearing your last night in 2018.

He went on, his voice still low enough to not arouse the company still leading them to the campsite. “In the dream, it was like I was hoverin’ over you. You were laying, surrounded by red sheets. Then a bright light lit up behind you, surroundin’ you before your eyes opened and looked at me. I reached out for you, tried to pull you back. But the light became so bright, I couldn’t see you anymore. I woke up to Freddie poundin’ on my fucking chest to start my heart back.”

A theory began to form in your brain as you started to put the pieces together.

“I think we saw each other that night,” you whispered, mostly thinking out loud. “I saw you in the mud, sinking, with blood covering you. You saw me in my bed…”

Traveling to the past, you wanted to finish, but kept the words to yourself.

Tommy took a deep breath next to you, taking in your theory. Ahead of you, the campsite came into view.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “I’m hoping this place will have some answers.”

Tommy didn’t say anything more as they pulled into the camp, parking the wagon just outside next to Johnny Dogs’. The sun was fully set now as Tommy adjusted his jacket and jumped out of the wagon.

The Delphi member who had escorted them approached the wagon and offered you his hand to help you down. Tommy appeared next to him, eyes steady at the man until he took back his arm and retreated. You felt yourself want to roll your eyes at the exchange, but there was something in Tommy’s warning that made you appreciate it instead.

After the dream you’d just had, it felt good to feel safe again as you took Tommy’s hand and he steadied you to the ground. He kept his hand to your back as you both walked forward into the camp.

Watching him from the corner of your eye, you noticed him slip into something else. His face hardened into the signature Thomas Shelby glare, as if building a wall around his thoughts as you began to walk into the camp. His eyes were nonstop, scanning everywhere as if looking for potential threats or escape exists. It reminded you of how your father used to walk into crowded places — always alert for impending danger.

You took that as your own cue to do the same, finally taking in the camp around you.

You weren’t really sure what to expect, half picturing some of the movies you’d seen depicting gypsy campsites. A couple large fires were lit throughout the grounds, each surrounded by a gang of caravans — the largest was parked at the end of the alley, almost like a head of the table. There were more people around you than you imagined there’d be, with dogs running around and barefoot children chasing them.

One thing you did expect, but still found chilling to see in person — the sigil on the caravan the Delphi escort was walking you both toward.

A painting of a tree — a near perfect resemblance to the mark on your back.

“Madam Despoina will meet you now,” the escort said, opening the door of the caravan. “She’s asked that you wait for her here.”

You took a step toward the large caravan, feeling Tommy begin to follow you.

“Just the lady.”

The man lifted his hand between you and Tommy, stopping him from moving further. Tommy’s eyes flicked down to the hand, then back at the man.

“No,” you spoke up, the Delphi man looking back toward you but Tommy’s eyes never left his. “He comes with me.”

“She said nothing of the sort—“

“I don’t care,” you shrugged.

The man held your glare for a moment before exhaling in defeat. Tommy held the door of the caravan open for you to enter before following behind.

Inside, the caravan was dark, with a handful of candles lit around the parameter and on the table in the center. Tommy moved to sit on the far side of the table, facing the entrance, while you took the seat to his right. Across from you was the empty seat.

As you waited, you began to grow nervous, but you were desperate to stay aware of everything around you. In your quest to disprove your mother’s fortune teller claim, you’d gone on your own crusade to debunk the myth. But despite your skepticism, you found yourself wrapped up in the excitement of the moment.

“Do you know what kind of divination they practice?” You found yourself asking Tommy.

He shook his head.

“Palm readings, tarot cards, crystal balls, tea readings,” you rolled your eyes, giving the caravan a once over again. You noticed some unlit candles, pointing them out. “It’s all such bullshit, see. It could be brighter in here, but they chose to keep it dark. It’s part of their trick — a dark atmosphere decreases people’s sensitivity to movement, heightens their sensitivity to noise, and causes them to be more on edge and frightened at the little things. I can’t believe we’re here.”

Tommy’s brow rose at her deduction.

“I bet you dollars to donuts that when she sits down, she’ll ask for our hands. Another part of the act — decreases the possibility of disrupting the play. A form of misdirection. Keep your eye on her hand and you don’t see her move her knee to knock against the table crying out spirits.”

You felt your temper rise as you continued, not being able to stop yourself now from just rambling out of pent up anger and nerves. Your eyes met Tommy’s, who was appraising you curiously.

“Not a fan of gypsies, I take it?”

There was a hint of defense in his tone that punched at your gut. He thought you were judging his people and suddenly you felt the need to explain yourself.

“No, I didn’t mean— it’s not that. It’s just—“ you were having a hard time backing yourself out of this corner. You took a deep breath. “My mother wasted a lot of money and sanity on fortune tellers and seances. She thought they had answers to her questions and it became an obsession. I learned a lot to try and convince her that such stuff didn’t exist. That it was all parlor tricks, unconscious muscle movement, static electricity, light trickery—”

“She never believed you.”

An older woman’s voice came from the entrance of the caravan. Madam Despoina, you assumed, climbed into the wagon and took the seat across from you.

“She always knew there was an answer out there. A truth, just outside her grasp. She searched, the same way you now search. It’s ironic, no?”

“Madam Despoina,” Tommy greeted, nodding his head down as a show of respect.

The woman nodded in return, “Thomas Shelby.”

Madam Despoina turned then to you and reached her hand out, silently asking for your own. You sent a sideways glance to Tommy, who was already smirking at the action.

Did they have donuts in 1918? You quickly found yourself wondering.

“Please,” the Madam said softly. “It has been so long since your line has had answers.”

You crossed your arms, a direct defiance of her request, “My mother was desperate. I am not. What could you possibly know about me?”

You felt Tommy inhale sharply, an uncomfortable energy radiating off him as his back straightened and he kept an eye on the woman to his left. Obviously he had a better understanding of Romani decorum than you did — you wondered if you’d gone a little too far with your disrespect, misjudging the consequences.

But Madam Despoina only hummed and smiled, her eyes nearly sparkling with a challenge.

She folded her hands together as she leaned against the table, talking directly to you as she began. “Our lineages have traveled from the same ancient roads. I am a direct descendent of the original Pythia.”

“Pythia?” You repeated, the pieces finally beginning to take shape.

Greek history and mythology had been one of your favorite subjects in school, as it seemed to be for most kids in your time. But after learning that your own history may have led back to that country, that culture, it made you hyper-fixate on learning as much as you could. You loved the idea of these stories, these grandiose themes that people of an ancient world told to explain every day occurrences or creations.

Your dream began to itch at the back of your brain as you thought back to those lessons.

“The Oracle of Delphi,” you continued, a sly smile from the woman across from you aiding your confirmation. “No wonder the name sounded so familiar.”

“Oracle?” Tommy’s brow furrowed as he looked to you for an answer.

The Madam nodded, as if encouraging you to explain.

“They were priestesses of Ancient Greece,” you replied tentatively, careful with your words.

You knew this was another tactic used by fortune tellers, to get the payee to divulge information to use back at you, making you unwittingly believe that they knew all along.

You cleared your throat. “They told prophecies and were considered the most prestigious oracles in Greece.”

Madam Despoina nodded. “The Pythia was the most powerful woman in the ancient world. We channeled our ancient god and he spoke through us.”

“You know, there’s some that believe the explanation for the prophecy inspiration came from vapors in the springs below the temple,” you interrupted.

You remembered a professor who always loved to bring reason or scientific explanation to some of these tales as a way of relating them back to real world scenarios. You’ll never forget the way he’d compared Hercules killing his wife and children because Hera spelled him to see them as demons to a fit of roid-rage. You channeled that professor at this moment to regurgitate some of his words.

“That the shift of very specific, active fault lines and earthquakes released some kind of hallucinogenic gas, giving the illusion of connecting with the divine. And as for the possessions, some thought them to be epilepsies, brought on by either the gas or from chewing and inhaling the leaves of a poisonous plant — like the way Vikings used to eat magic mushrooms and burn leaves to see visions of trolls and giants and gods.”

Madam Despoina kept her smile as you talked, chuckling as you finished. “That is a very astute observation of our history. Perhaps it’s true. I never did believe that our power was fueled solely on magic or the divine alone.”

That surprised you. You hadn’t expected her to take your reasoning seriously — part of you thought she’d kick you out on the spot. As if reading your thoughts (or your facial expression, you reasoned), she chuckled again.

“Despite how the root came to be, it does not negate the clarity of the branches. We continue the Delphi name and practices in honor of that lineage,” she went on after giving you a moment with your thoughts. “Just as it seems, your mother continued yours.”

Your brow creased, “What do you mean?”

She closed her eyes and began to speak in another language, Latin perhaps, before opening them and speaking again, this time in English.

“Know thyself and thou shalt know all the mysteries of the gods and the universe,” she said cryptically, obviously reciting something, but you didn’t know it’s origin.

“Know myself?” You repeated, your brow creasing. “That’s what I came here for,” you replied, half annoyed, half skeptic.

“I know why you came here. It’s been long predicted of your arrival.”

You took a deep breath. “I was starting to like you. Do you have anything less generic to say?”

She smirked, “You still disbelieve our power, our connection?”

“I believe you’re trying to probe me with leading questions,” you replied, leaning your elbows against your lap. “That the power of suggestion is half the battle of divinity. You know why I’m here, you wouldn’t have agreed to meet with me if you didn’t already know there was some connection. I’m here for real answers, and you either have them, or you don’t”

“Aye, you are perceptive,” you were surprised to see her smile. “Most readings are easy — love, fortune, death, these are all pieces that are simple to persuade. But not you, not the one who branded herself with the tree of knowledge, of universal balance on your back.”

You felt yourself shift in your seat, your shoulders moved at the mention of your tattoo between them.

As you said, you guessed they already knew about it. Tommy would have had to give Johnny Dogs a reason for reaching out to the family, a reason strong enough to request an audience with the woman before you.

A quick glance at Tommy, who had narrow eyes on Madam Despoina, confirmed such.

Playing it off, you shrugged. “So, tell me something I don’t know.”

The woman smiled again, leaning forward to match your stance. “You were named after the cursed one herself. The first of your matriarch. The infamous Trojan princess.”

“Cassandra,” you answered. “The unbelieved prophet.”

Your dream itched harder in the back of your mind at the sound of your middle name being said out loud for the first time in years.

“A gracious gift given by the god himself at the promise of her body, who then twisted into curse once she refused to lay with him,” the Madam explained with almost a song-like quality.

Of course you knew the story. You’d been ecstatic when you began the Iliad and found your own name amongst the pages.

You hummed, “You know, there’s another side of that story. One that paints Cassandra as a devout priestess, who had the gift bestowed to her freely. She didn’t ask for it, nor did she consent to it. And it was only after he made his advances, believing that she owed him for this gift she didn’t ask for, that he cursed her in rage of an ego blow.”

The Madam nodded, “And which do you believe? The temptress or the victim?”

“Seeing as most history is written by men, I tend to sympathize with the female viewpoints,” you stated, crossing your arms again.

“What if I told you there’s a third side to this story. One that I believe you have already begun to uncover.”

Your itch turned into a burn as you thickly swallowed.

“Yesterday was the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. Some say it’s the mark of a death and rebirth of the Sun.” Madam turned then to Tommy, who’d been quietly observing during this time. “You’ve had experience with that yourself, haven’t ya, Thomas? You were dead, and now, reborn.”

“What does any of this have to do with why we’re here?” You asked, feeling a sense of protectiveness over Madam’s focus on Tommy.

“Why did you bring him?” She asked you, still looking toward Tommy. “My men told you that I’d meet with you alone.”

“I promised him no more secrets —“

“No,” she cut you off. “You wanted me to reveal your secret for you. But I cannot.”

“Because you don’t know—”

“Because it’s not time!” She shouted, pivoting back toward you quickly. The humor in her eyes had gone now. “You are a traveler, but you don’t belong here. You have been sent to this place, to this time, for a reason. A curse brought you here, but unlike the others, you have a chance to mend ancient mistakes. You have a chance to save lives with your knowledge, with your insight. You must get the right people to listen. Break the cursed chain, end the line of travel.”

Your mouth gaped as Madam Despoina had gone on, but your brain was doing everything to absorb every word, every micro-expression you could make out to understand.

The woman stood from her seat and began her retreat, taking a deep breath before turning back around.

“You will find the answers you seek, so long as you stay true to thyself. Listen to your dreams, your visions, your memories. And above all, know you are stronger than those who came before you — you are stronger than your mother.”

With that, she left the caravan, leaving you and Tommy alone.

You looked over to Tommy, who was staring at you — a look you couldn’t quite make out. You opened your mouth to say something when the caravan door opened.

Johnny Dogs stood at the open end, “We’ve been invited to stay for dinner and to rest for the night. They have a caravan for the two of yous.”

Your brow creased as you looked back to Tommy, “We can’t possibly stay the night here. Not after that —“

“We must,” he replied, his voice as even as it’d been before. “It’ll be an insult if we don’t.”

He stood up, offering you his hand to help you up as well. He pulled you close to him, his voice low enough so even Johnny Dogs couldn’t hear.

“But we leave first thing in the morning. We speak nothing of what happened here tonight. Understood?”

“How can you expect that of me?” You asked genuinely, hoping he didn’t mistake your question for childish disobedience. Your mind was swimming with everything that’d happened in the last few hours. Your eyes sought his, “How can you not have questions for me?”

He exhaled a humored breath before swallowing, pulling your head the inch it needed before his lips brushed against your temple. His hand returned to your back as he whispered into your ear.

“Oh believe me, love, I do. But there will be time for that later. Come on, we can’t keep them waiting.”

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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[scotianostra]

On May 25th 1726 the worlds first lending library opened in Edinburgh by Allan Ramsay.

Ramsay was born in Lanarkshire in 1686, and by 1701 had settled in Edinburgh as an apprentice wig-maker.

At the turn of the eighteenth century wigs were worn by men as a form of status symbol, elaborate constructions of human, goat or horse hair that often fell in ringlets below a man's shoulders, or were elevated to a significant height as a means of increasing their wearer's sense of physical stature. They were expensive products and were created by skilled craftsmen whose reputations rested on their ability to create ever newer and greater objects for their customers to display in public.

By 1712 Ramsay had become a well-known wig-maker of excellent reputation with premises on the High Street, Royal Mile, for the richest and most high status customers to buy.

During this time Allan, through his love of reading and literature, became involved with the Easy Club, a cultural group established to celebrate traditional Scots writing. From this association Ramsay began writing, and by 1718 was a successful enough poet to turn his wig shop into a bookshop. Some people have credited Ramsay's early writing with being a major influence on the careers of Robert Fergusson, and later Robert Burns.

In time Ramsay's bookshop mutated into the world's first organised circulating library, a cultural hub for readers to borrow books, magazines and periodicals and take them away in order to peruse them at leisure, and then return them for other readers to enjoy.

The modern notion of a library providing such access free of charge is quite different from the original circulating library system, where members where charged an annual subscription fee in order to have access to the collections of materials available. The early function of such organisations was not primarily an educational one, as might be expected, but a capitalist one - to profit from those who had money to spend on such memberships.

In Edinburgh, the rise of the Enlightenment ideals and the city's relative affluence made Ramsay's library a roaring success, and he was able to spend time focusing on his own writing, penning not just poems but also dramas, his 1725 pastoral play The Gentle Shepherd being performed and celebrated as a work of theatre in his own lifetime.

Ramsay GardenRamsay opened a theatre on Carubbers Close, off the High Street, which was opposed by the religious fervour of the Calvinists, and later forced to close. Ramsay railed against the dour principles of the Presbyterian church in some of his poems of this time.

​​In 1740 Ramsay retired to the house he had built for himself, still seen on the land immediately east of Edinburgh Castle - the cream and orange coloured building at the top of the Royal Mile is called Ramsay Garden, and the central structure - Ramsay's original home - was popularly known during his own lifetime as 'Goose Pie House' because of it’s octagonal shape.

Ramsay died in 1743 and in buried in the Greyfriars Kirkyard, where a memorial on the side of the church building celebrates his life. The statue of Ramsay on Princes Street was carved by John Steell, and ensures that Ramsay is still visibly commemorated in the city where he made most impact during his lifetime.

[slickchickchocolatier]

Can you write a yan Niki fic? Your my fav writer when it comes to Yanderes 😩. Just some fluffy and yan Niki is alllllll i need to live🫶🏼 Thank you

(No smut tho❤️)

“Nik’d My Face.”

Warnings: some fluff, yandere love, suspense, mentions/hints of murder, bullying, and threats.

I'm sorry but this is only half proofread, I finished it in mid-flight on our way to visit some family for a few days and didn't have access to my word doc, so my notepad on my phone had to do the job. lol. enjoy.

Moving to a new place wasn’t easy, fitting into a new school was harder. Literally plucked from your comfort zone and placed into a new area where you were forced to acclimate yourself among strangers, you couldn’t have thought of a more turbulent event as a senior in high school. However, you were known to be strong willed, and allowing for something as miniscule as being a loner was something you refused to bring you down. It will be only a few more months until you graduate and can focus on entering college, therefore establishing a new path onto adulthood. 

Attending class was going as good as it could be, just the same really. Day in and day out you frolicked among the student body and politely waved or even verbally greeted passersby, but it never went beyond that. Good thing there was only four more months left until summer break. 

“Y/N, could you please take these attendance sheets to the main office?” 

“Yes Ma’am.” Your teacher gratefully hands you the stack of loose papers. The building your class was held at was separated from the structure that housed the main facilities. Cutting through the courtyard, you stayed along the stone path, doing your best to ensure the documents remained placed in orderly fashion, keeping them from shifting around as the wind pick’s up. A strong gust swifts through, waving the bulk of your hair over your shoulder while you hug the sheets close to your chest, preventing them from being carried off. You hurriedly make your way to the entrance; your increased haste to get out of the wind distracted peripherals, causing you to lack self awareness of the surrounding area as you took a turn, migrating through the narrow halls. A sudden impact hits your chest, followed by swift, blackout vision. Your feet stumble, causing you to lose your balance while you feel the teetering effect of your frame leaning too far back, indicating you were in the midst of falling. The cacophony of books hitting the ground was all you heard before the rush of blood flows through your fingertips. Something firm and steady loops around your lower back, catching you from completing the fall as the attendance sheets disburse in mid air, swaying as they softly land on the ground. 

"Your hands shoot out and catch the chair rail to stabilize yourself as the mass of your weight is supported by whatever it was that cradled you, preventing the fall. Shifting your eyes vividly, you adjust your sights and find yourself parallel to a young man of altitudinous height. His frame leaned towards you to establish the hold he had around your waist, while his free hand takes its own grip on the rail, mutually sustaining the balance. Straightening his posture, his forearm aids you up from the pull as he straightens his posture and stands fully upright. Surely he hadn’t meant to pull you as close as he did, or so you thought as the tip of your nose brushes against his shirt. Your back straightens and his hand slowly rides up your spine, traveling in between your shoulder blades before you instantly felt him palming the back of your head, further substantiating your stance while he steadies himself. 

“You okay?” his voice was placidly deep; the image of standing mid-waist in a lake, halcyonned in tranquil surroundings, was entrenched in your mind as your brain memorized his pitch. You nod your head before looking up and inhaling a clear view of the man’s face. He was of Asian descent, though you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what nationality he was. Perhaps Chinese? Japanese? Korean even? Either way, he had striking features, and looked even taller when standing straight. 

“Y–yes…thank you.” You immediately kneeled down and started collecting the loose sheets, but the hidden reason behind your intent was to cut off his intense gaze, which was amplified by his sharp eyes. He was handsome and though you were certain, given the circumstance of him being inside the main building wearing your school’s uniform, you figured he was the same age even though he looked mature, evident by his graceful entry to manhood. He kneels beside and assists you, accelerating your heartbeat. Shifting over as you extend on all fours to gain more distance, reaching for the remaining scattered sheets, you glance at the textbooks on the ground. You gently gather them into a neat pile and present them to him. “Heh, thanks.” he smiles modishly before swapping the books out for the other half of the rosters. “You new here?” 

“Yes, I just transferred a couple weeks ago.” 

“Nice. What’s your name?”

“Y/N…you?”

“Niki.” 

You nervously shifted your gaze to the ground beneath your feet as you and Niki exchanged greetings. He was so tall and handsome, you weren’t entirely sure what else to say other than informing him of your task in taking the attendance rosters to the main office. 

“Oh, I’m going that way, I can take you there.” he responds calmly. He didn’t leave you any room to respond as he gently pulled you to the side and walked you to the main staff office, yet it was strange considering when you ran into him, wasn’t he going in the opposite direction?

You shook things off and became enamored by his appeal. He was charming and rather quiet, but had a playfulness to his persona. He dropped you off at the staff office and from that moment on, NIki became a regular in your daily life. You didn’t expect to make a close friend, but he was always insisting on meeting up with you, walking you to your classes, or texting you to sneak out as your professor was in the middle of a lecture, just so he could talk with you for ten to fifteen minutes. He was so kind and thoughtful towards you, and made an effort to be a true friend by volunteering every bit of his vigor to aid you, should you need it. Little did you know, you were going to call upon his services sooner than you had thought, the best part? You didn’t even know you were doing it….

Your mother wasn’t entirely too pleased about having to re-purchase your supplies, including a new bag. She repeatedly spoke about meeting with the principal about the bullying, adamant in demanding that the perpetrators should be the ones to reimburse your items. You weren’t in the mood to make a comment, what happened earlier was the most displeasing event that occurred since you attended this school. Your father, much like Niki, believed it was all due to the bullies having a crush on you, yet it didn’t excuse them from acting so horribly considering they were all at least eighteen, the same age as you. 

After replenishing your school supplies, you and your mother went back home. Running up the stairs, you started to remove the price tags and put everything together, still mentally worn and frustrated about what happened. 

“Y/N! Your friend NIki is here to see you!” your mother shouts from downstairs. 

“Oh okay! Coming!” 

You take a quick pause and run down to see Niki standing by the doorway. 

“Hey!” he says excitingly, smiling upon seeing you come down the last step. 

“Hey, thank you so much for picking everything up for me.” 

“No worries, I just realized I left the planner inside my car.”

“Oh, I'll come out with you.” Slipping on your shoes, you walk out to the driveway in front of your parents residence, watching as Niki dips into the back seat and grabs hold of your new planner. Handing it to you, you smiled graciously and received it. 

“Thank you again Niki.” 

Upon handing you the book, you noticed a spot of blood on his finger. “Oh, did you get cut?” you remarked as you inspected his hand. “I can run in and grab you a bandaid.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” he calmly remarks. Gently pinching your cheek as he thanks you for the offer. “I’m sure it’s just a paper cut.” 

Bidding goodbye, you wave him off as he drives back home. At least his visit was able to take your mind off of things, and comforted you. Walking back inside, your father was making his way over to the main room, when he sees you walking back in, shutting the door behind. 

“What’s that on your face?” 

“Hmm?” you looked at him confusingly. Your father takes a closer look and sees a small residue of blood on your chin, from Niki’s small cut. Teasing you, your father jests out a small comment, one that made you blush. “What did you do? Nik’d your face while shaving?” 

“Very funny dad.” 

“Well you know, I’ve nik’d my face plenty of times, but if you ever need a lesson on how to shave your face, let me know.” He teases out one last time before patting you on the back as you chuckle and make your way back upstairs. 

The next day, your peers garnished you with their stares. Initially, you had thought that they were staring out of sympathy from yesterday’s unfortunate event, yet the longer you stared back, the more you realized that the look on their faces wasn’t one of pity, instead, it almost looked as if they were…

“Why do they look so scare-”

“Hey! Y/N!” 

Turning around, you watch Niki approaching you from behind, his voice cutting you off in mid thought. “Oh, hi Niki.”

“Having a good morning so far?”

“Mm yeah, so far so good. I haven’t seen those idiots from yesterday but I’m sure my teacher is going to make them apologize, plus my mom says she was going to talk to the principal.”

“Oh really? Well I hope they don’t give you a hard time anymore.” winking at you, he playfully gestures a soft punch as he gently swings and halts his movement once his knuckles softly makes contact with your cheek. You chuckled at his facetious gesture, when he calmly, yet abruptly gives you explicit instructions, and was rather adamant about it. 

“Y/N…..”

“Y-yes…?”

“Go…straight to class, and wait there until I come to meet with you and take you to your next class….” His eyes widened, rather horridly as his countenance no longer flared that charming appeal you had come to know him for, instead, he looked rather fierce and ominous. “Understand?” he finishes, firmly gripping your shoulder. 

“Y-yes…” 

“Good.” patting you, he winks as he turns and walks away. You stood for a second, confused and shaken, what in the world conspired him to develop such a frightening gaze? It was enough to give you nightmares. You shuttered upon thinking about it, opting to shrug it off before opening the door and walking in. The teacher was not in, at least not yet. Taking your seat, a series of whispers monopolized the classroom, and you figured everyone was talking about you and the bullies from yesterday. Speaking of which, the boys that had destroyed your belongings, must have been with the principal, since they were not present in the room. Your teacher walks in, rather seldomly, and instead of taking attendance first thing, like she normally had done, she appeals to the class to close their books and to give a moment of silence. 

“Class, let us take this moment to be silent for what has happened.”

You looked around confused, what in the world was she talking about? “Excuse me, Miss Catherine? What are we having a moment of silence for?” you asked in all earnest. 

“Y/n, we are having a moment of silence for Jason, Griffith, and Riley.” 

Your eyes widened as you leaned your head in, did you hear right? Did she just name off the bullies that tormented you yesterday, and state that the class was having a moment of silence for them? What on earth happened? Just before you could ask for closure, a peer that sat directly in front of you turned back and she was kind enough to fill you in. 

“Y/N, they were in detention yesterday…you know…after what they did to you…but three hours after their restriction ended, the parents called the police, claiming they never made it home. They searched the school and found….well…they found….”

Cutting her off, your teacher gently ends the conversation by remarking how cruel the world can be, reminding the importance of situational awareness and to be cognizant of the people around. After the class paid their respects, the teacher allowed for everyone to take a ten minute break to collect themselves, and to come back to begin the review for next week’s exam. 

“Remember, the boys restroom is still closed. If you need to use the restroom, you’ll have to go use the one in the building next door.” 

Still confused, you stood up and walked out, scouting the hall for the girl that sat in front of you. Catching sight of her, you quickly walk up and bid her to finish her story. 

“Hey, could you please tell me what’s going on? I’m still confused.”

Looking at you rather concerned, she pulls you aside and looks around. “Y/N, the boys were found in the restroom, horribly dismembered and their body parts were staged. It was terrible. The police are trying to find the culprit, and they suspect it’s one of the maintenance staff, since there was blood found on the garden tools inside the school’s storage shed.” 

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t believe what you had heard, and felt as if your entire chest cavity had collapsed into your stomach. You needed air. Stumbling your way outside, you propped yourself against a pillar, breathing the air deeply as the breeze glazed over your face. 

“They…they died?....Last night?...But how?” 

“Hey.”

Snapping to look over your shoulder, facing the direction of where the deep voice emerged from, you watch as Niki calmly walks over to you. HIs hands remained casually tucked in his pockets as he stood beside you, gently resting his shoulder against the same pillar that decorated the entrance to the building. 

“Wh…what are you doing here? Don’t you have class?” You inquired curiously. 

“Oh I don’t have classes, not anymore. I finished all of them last year and graduated early, I just like to hang out at school, especially now since…well… I have you.”

Furrowing your brows together, your countenance grows eerily stern as you watch him continue to stand, flashing you his charming smile, which now has reeked a malicious aura surrounding it. “You’re…not a student? What have you been doing inside the school?” 

“I told you. I’m here for you.” 

You lips begin to quiver, you had no idea that he was not a student, what with him wearing the schools brand and logo, how could you have thought otherwise? Except…now that you had thought more about it, you hadn’t shared any classes with him, he was always waiting for you outside your classroom door, and the most frightening discovery of all, was…

“Niki…what happened to your cut?” Your eyes linger on the sight of perfectly intact skin, with no abrasions, cuts, or wounds of ang kind.  Looking up, you slightly raise a brow in question, expecting an answer in return. 

“Oh don’t worry about that, turns out it was something else.” His eyes began to widen once more, there he goes again with that suspenseful look on his face, the one that scares your soul right from your body. Gripping your shoulder, he leans to whisper in your ear…

“Be good, and be a silent girl. I’ll pick you up after class. Do anything brash and mommy and daddy might have an accident….you don’t want that, do you?” 

Your eyes began to glisten with tears of fear and anxiety, what has he done? Were your parents safe? What about you? Was your safety on the line? Building enough courage to ask, you question his initiative as a single tear breaks, traveling down your cheek. 

“Are….you going to hurt my family…and me?”

Letting out a quick chuckle, he raises a hand and wipes the drifting drop from your face, before responding. 

“Of course not. You’re the one that I love, and dream of. Now be good, and don’t do anything sneaky.” Pairing a wink to match his devious smile, he giggles joyfully. “Now be good and I’ll see you in an hour to take you to your next class. If you do anything stupid, people will get hurt, be good so they can live. Okay?” 

……

Moving to a new place is never easy, yet when you meet someone who falls hard, and is willing to kill for you, turns out, not only is ‘moving’ actually easy, it’s also a luxury that you’ll forever miss, considering your future was sealed with Niki…forever.

[racefortheironthrone]

I'm a big fan of building commie blocks to ameliorate the US housing crisis -- and putting them in the public parks that were stolen from other communities to give colonisers some trees to look at -- but what policies should be enacted to get suburbanites into beautiful and efficient bedspace apartments with kitchens and washrooms shared by a floor?

As a good social democrat, I'm contractually obligated to prefer Red Vienna to your proper commie block. Short of a complete class revolution that completely upends the social hierarchy, a significant part of ensuring that social housing pulls off being "a living tapestry of a mixed community" is building it to middle-class standards (including aesthetic standards) so that people with the money to find alternatives don't all leave. Art Deco is a hell of a lot chic-er than the boring minimalist crap that luxury developers are getting away with these days.

Also, don't build them in parks: green space is not only important for environmental sustainability but also the health and mental health of working-class and poor communities who can't afford houses in the suburbs, and we should be encouraging in-fill development instead. (Build them on golf courses instead, because they are classist, invasive, artificial monocultures that do nothing for the environment.)

In terms of how to make suburbia more in synch with dense, sustainable social housing, there are a number of necessary changes:

Commuter rail: suburbs predate the car by a fair few decades, and originally sprung up along the routes of commuter rail lines. Well, it turns out that transit-oriented development and dense transit corridors go hand-in-hand: if you can build higher-density units near transit lines, people will use mass transit to commute, and if there are well-planned areas of higher density around major urban areas, the increased number of commuters can support more regular transit services.

Planning/zoning/ligitation revolution: as I mentioned in my student housing post, one of the major reasons why it's so hard to build affordable housing projects is that local NIMBY groups use every legal tool in the book to bury them. So there needs to be pretty comprehensive reforms of zoning regulations (banning single-family zoning, reducing set-backs and eliminating mandatory parking, getting rid of "unrelated persons" limitations, getting rid of building heights limits, etc.), standardization of the permitting and development approval process, streamlining of the public comment/hearing process and environmental review process for model projects, and extreme limits on litigation for model projects.

Financing reform: as I sort of imply in my Red Vienna section above, a big part of making social housing/public housing successful and avoiding replicating or increasing class and racial segregation is adhering to middle-class minimum standards. This has important knock-on implications:

you need to eliminate requirements for absolute lowest possible land costs (which restrict social housing to economically and socially isolated areas).

you need to raise allowable construction costs, so that you can achieve those aesthetic standards and avoid corner-cutting like smaller rooms and lower ceilings, single-thickness walls/floors/ceilings, no doors on cabinets or closets, cheap cladding and wiring and pipes and other building materials, low-quality insulation and HVAC, etc. Not only do middle-class folks notice this stuff and go elsewhere, but it's all penny-wise and pound-foolish, because cheap construction runs down faster which increases maintenance costs, and sometimes it just straight-up kills people.

you need to adequately finance maintenance, services, and amenities. This is crucial to keeping tenants with deeper pockets, but it's also another one of those things where penny-pinching is counter-productive in the long-run. The more you save on maintenance costs, the faster the buildings run down and the more expensive repairs you have to make. The more you save on services like superintendants and doormen, the more your tenants end up having to spend on handymen and the more you have to spend on police and repair costs. And so forth.

And there is a real potential here for all kinds of positive feedback loops: spending money on achieving higher standards of construction and operation means that you can hang onto and attract higher-income tenants, which means you can have sliding scale rents that cross-subsidize tenants and pay for higher construction and operating costs, and the poor and working class tenants who couldn't have paid for those higher costs and amenities on their own enjoy a "positive externality" for once.

[cold-heart-warm-writings]

Passing a birthday with the Host Club is over the top. They don’t do the most - they do the absolute max out on all their fancy rich people cards. 

Haruhi just wants a fun quiet event with snacks, a few decorations, and maybe some fancy tuna if it’s a big birthday. (Naturally, Haruhi does not get this. She’s kidnapped for a day of festivities, and even her dad lets the Host Club have their way because he’s invited to the dinner feast. The local sea area is now out of tuna, fancy and regular.)

Kyoya rents out an entire island so he can buy a quiet day and relax by himself with NO MAYHEM. Of course, Tamaki still finds him, but it was a blissful 43 minutes. 

Honey throws a cake tasting party, flying in the British Bake Off hosts and participants for a “British Bake Off… in Japan!” special episode. He, and the friends he invites, are the ones who decide on the winners. 

Hikaru takes over an entire building for a giant, full day, Hunger Games style, paintball battle. Doctors are on hand, and this year, only two people needed to be rushed to the hospital. 

Mori rents out the zoo. Not in a “have your birthday party here!” kind of way, but doors are closed, peasants return home, it’s just me and my besties chilling with the animals and feeding them all the snacks. The twins are the reason why all zoos have increased the required height of railings to be higher. 

Kaoru would also want to do some crazy outdoor activity paired with something chill. Think skydiving or bungee jumping, and then once you realize the shortness and fragility of life, there’s a private art lesson with a famous painter at the largest art museum in Tokyo. 

Tamaki’s birthday is like 10 separate parties all crammed into one day. First, there’s a dress up cosplay event. Second, roller blading. Third, bowling. Fourth, amusement park rides and games. Fifth, food, drinks, and decorate your own cake. Yes, an entire cake for each person and any color and flavor and type of sprinkles you could possibly imagine. Sixth, build your own bear. He bought one of the build a bear machines, and it now lives in his house. Seventh, karaoke and photo shoot with everyone and their new bears. Eighth, movies with everyone and their bears. Ninth, pinatas. Plural. However many branches there are in the surrounding area, there are pinatas. And it’s not regular sized or cheap ass fun sized mini bars, nah man, nothing less than KING sized candy bars for our king. Tenth, PRESENTS! It’s not until just before midnight when you are finally released and allowed to return home.

[eldritch-spouse]

Clergy's opinion on chubby admin?

[I've always imagined Admin as some type of chubby, exact body type fluctuates but I've never pictured them as thin personally.]

Chubby Admin

Your weight isn't something that sits on the forefront of any of the staff member's minds. You're still the head of the team and the person they respect the most after Krulu themselves. You're the person that brought them all together and is giving them an opportunity to be something bigger, something more, to serve a purpose larger than themselves and indulge at the same time.

Morell tends to think a fuller body is a healthier one, though this has much to do with his upbringing. Nonetheless, he'll consider you as stronger than other humans and a little more on the attractive side. He'll also be one of the first to express concern if you start losing weight ""without reason"".

Grimbly feels safer when he's surrounded by bigger people. Whether it's in terms of height or weight/shape, the bat is likely to want to stay closer to you and be a little grabbier. This isn't out of a fetishistic drive, he just feels more comfortable with you.

Patches, rail thin monster man that he is, definitely enjoys the contrast of someone with a little more meat on their bones, and his staring at you is definitely not subtle. He tries to be respectful, and truly there's a lot about you to admire, but he's also boring holes into your ass from afar. Sybastian is much the same way, except he's far less subtle.

Vinnel may be a cock and make a couple of jokes about you being heavier, but they're pretty empty and don't sport true malice behind them. It's more second nature than anything, truth be told, he's just as likely to flatter your body type as he is to make fun of it- And he does this to everyone, really.

Santi's attitude towards you is always the same regardless of your body type, though he's capable of seeing you as more adorable than other humans, because you're softer on a couple of spots.

Nebul's going to gravitate towards you a little because of possibly increased body warmth. Aside from that, he may also be charmed by a curvier body- Mostly because, like with most other undeads, you're very alive and full and they'll be drawn towards that.

Belo wants to touch you frequently but holds himself back. Anyone who says anything about your weight is punched so hard they'll swallow their own teeth. As the vessel, your figure is perfect no matter what! Because if his lord chose you, then you're clearly the most attractive type of lesser!

As a slime, Gallon thinks the ability of the human body to hold a very consistent shape is fascinating, especially given how frail your kind is. He has no reaction to a heavier Admin but he'd also like to see you wear all sorts of fur coats and sparkling dresses. He just thinks you'd be able to stand out more with them, and flashiness is a quick way to a slime's heart/pants.

Ludwig also shares that odd mentality Morell does of thinking that you're stronger than the average human, therefore more appealing. He may be a little rougher with you, under the impression that a bigger form means more endurance, which isn't always necessarily the case- You should tell him that.

Fank-e may come off as rude in the way he seems obsessed with poking at you, but he's just curious about flesh, finding it very odd yet pleasant in contrast to metal. If you've got more skin to feel, then he's going to feel you more, it's that simple. The robot needs to be taught boundaries however.

Krulu didn't consider weight or body shape when he picked you as a host, and truly, if he felt there was a more adequate form for you, he would have changed your figure himself. He finds you to be welcoming and a respite for his weathered, gnarled skin.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Reckoning

Conquest log Archive 1731 Star Date 93745

Scouting detail 831 reports low level broadband communication signals while exploring sector G17. Signals are weak in nature but contain enough complex patterns to imply linguistics.

Requested additional teams and stronger receiver equipment was approved and further investigations begun.

Star date 93763

The unknown signals have increased in frequencies and scouting details have begun narrowing down origin location. With the stronger equipment the signals have been found to be visual transmissions rather than simple audio only communications.

First visuals of the aliens sending the messages have them appearing as bipedal creatures standing upright with two arms and legs. Despite sharing the same form many of them appear to hold individual distinctive features ranging from hair color, skin color, height, tone of voice, body proportions, etc.

The linguistics corps is attempting to create a foundation for understanding their primitive language but Warlord Xulien has instead diverted manpower to analyzing their current technological level. He has taken interest in the signals; though he appears less interested in the species themselves and is more invested in the world they occupy.

What little he has seen of the planet through the transmissions has convinced him that it would be the next prime candidate for the colonization corp and would become the new frontier outpost for his forces to base in for their westward expansion.

Star Date 93771

With the combined efforts of the increased scouting details the alien’s believed homeworld has been located; a medium sized binary star cluster with five orbital masses circling the twin suns. Four of the planetoids have their orbital curves sending them too close to the suns to be bathed in lethal radiation or too far and ending up as a frozen orb. The fifth planet finds itself in perfect synchronization with the two suns and found itself in the so called “Green Zone” orbit that can sustain life.

Scouting detail 831 received the honor of sending the first ship into the system. Primary focus was altered at the command of Warlord Xulien to focus on military capabilities present in the system.

First visuals were reported back and found to be unimpressive.

The species, while having advanced far enough to obtain space flight, showed limited space presence aside from an array of artificial satellites and small mining craft that were sent to the four desolate planets in the system for raw materials.

On the surface there were several large cities with a few dozen smaller settlements scattered around the planet. A network of roadways and rail lines connected each grouping into a vast network allowing easy movement across the planet.

With the closer proximity to the signals origins the linguistics corps was able to better translate the information and has finally learned the name of the species.

They call themselves “Humans”.

Star Date 93775

Warlord Xulien has assembled his war host and launched a full invasion of the system.

Protests from the science and diplomatic corps were overridden as Xulien made a convincing case to the senate that these “humans” were too primitive to be of any real benefit to the empire and that their world would be put too much better use under their people’s watchful gaze.

The first wave of ships have flooded into the system and secured total control. The small fleet of human ships was easily wiped out in the initial engagement, though many of the satellites remained unharmed due to their small size making them more difficult and tedious to destroy.

Star Date 93776

Following the control of the surrounding space the main force has entered the system. The transports carrying the war host lumbered into orbit around the human homeworld and begun landings.

Warlord Xulien has forbidden the use of orbital strikes to minimize collateral damage to the planet. He has been recorded saying that his forces need to stretch their legs after such a journey and welcome a ground war challenge.

Numerous communication signals have been detected coming from the surface of the planet but Warlord Xulien has ordered the fleet to ignore them. He believes they are the humans attempting to establish peace talks which he has no interest in.

Star Date 937780

Final resistance of the humans has been wiped out.

The war chorus Helion has captured the human leader and is bringing them aboard the flagship to meet with Warlord Xulien.

Orders for colonization fleets to assemble have been sent.

Star Date 937780b

Multiple jump signatures detected along the edges of the system.

Three hundred unknown space fairing vessels have bypassed long range scanners and have formed a tightening noose around the war host.

Ship classification unknown but all bare the mark of humanity. The lead ship at the center of this new armada is several times larger than Warlord Xulien’s personal flagship.

Orders have been issued to recall ground forces as the fleet assembles.

Star Date 937781

War host fleet has been wiped out.

It has been discovered that the world previously thought to be the human homeworld was in fact a recent colony; a colony that was part of a much larger and more advanced domain of human controlled territory.

Reports of massed barrages of human weaponry far more advanced than what the colonists had shattered the fleet shields in the opening seconds. With their shields disabled the human flagship then deployed a large scale electromagnetic pulse weapon of some kind and disabled the entire war host fleet. All contact with the fleet was then lost save for a single transport vessel that had landed on the surface and continued to transmit back to the empire.

Scanners detected that multiple smaller craft were then launched from the human ships and latched on to the war host fleet vessels. Military analysts theorize that these were boarding parties and that the war host ships were taken one by one.

The remaining war chorus’s on the planet’s surface reported massed landings of human vehicles dropping off scores of heavily armed warriors before all communication was lost.

Star Date 937923

The general public continues to remain unaware of the events that took place on the human colony world. Official reports list that in a final act of defiance the humans detonated a device near one of the binary stars that sent it cascading into a deadly supernova that consumed the entire system.

A memorial was held for Warlord Xulien and his war host, while all official information of the events that transpired have been scrubbed from the records save for the highest level archives.

All warlords have been informed of the fate of Xulien and have been instructed to prepare for a pending conflict with humanity. Many have called for retribution for the loss of one of their own, but it is far more likely that they are eager to secure the honor and prestige of avenging the first ever death of a warlord of the empire.

Star Date 937969

Jump signatures have been reported at the edge of empire space. Scouting details have been dispatched to investigate.

Star Date 937975

All contact with scouting details has been lost.

War Hosts have been ordered to battle stations.

Star Date 937976

Massed fleet of ships detected orbiting colony world of Xu-zin. Orbital facilities report seven hundred ships before destruction.

Emblem of humanity seen on the prow of the lead ships.

Star Date 937981

General public informed of new threat and the destruction of Xu-zin colony world.

Last recorded video files of deadly orbital bombardments released to general public to stir war fervor.

There was no communication made between the human fleet and the colonists below before the attack. Orbital strikes have been reported to have decimated 96% of the planet’s surface and destabilized the orbital rotation.

Star Date 937990

Colonies Ring Reef, Zavens Throne, Dren IV, and Pul have all been destroyed.

Human fleets emerged over each world and bombarded them from orbit until all life on the surface was extinguished.

Science corps believes the humans were able to obtain star chart information from capture war host fleet and are operating with detailed information of the empire.

Warlord Din’mar led his war host over the moon of Xerebeck against a human fleet there. 83% of the war fleet was destroyed before the order to withdraw was given. One human vessel crippled during the engagement.

Star Date 937994

Mid ring worlds breached.

Heavily populated world of Lechen’s Reach attacked by large human fleet of two hundred ships.

Orbital defenses prove stronger deterrent and inflict first confirmed losses to human fleet.

Human fleets retreat to safe distance out of range but do not leave the system.

Star Date 937995

Human fleets surrounding Lechen’s Reach reinforced by a further eight hundred ships and renew assault on planet. Orbital defense platforms decimated by concentrated weapon fire before planet subjected to extensive orbital bombardment.

Star Date 937997

Human’s have gained access to the wider empire broadcasting network and have begun streaming a constant feed of their destruction of the colony and mid ring worlds as well as the destruction of the war fleets for warlords Hentuk, Bendni, Arura, and Hafen.

Government denies all feeds as enemy propaganda but panic across the empire spreads beyond control.

Warlords Zin and Frick have refused all commands from the central government and have taken their fleets elsewhere. They no longer respond to command and are believed to be fleeing with what resources they have at their disposal.

Star Date 938000

Human fleets have finally arrived at the homeworld.

Orbital defenses have fallen an hour ago yet the expected orbital attack has not yet come.

I make this final entry as I see their landing craft breaching the clouds and descending upon my home with trails of fire.

I do not know what horrors they plan to unleash upon us, but I fear that this will be my final day.

I send this last recording now and hope that whoever discovers this will know of my people’s fate and learn from it.

Learn that to stir the beings known as humans, is to stir death itself from its slumber.

[heyclickadee]

Okay, so, here's part one of however many of these "Tech's Alive" posts I’m going to write, but, before I get into it, I wanted to be really clear about my intentions: I'm not trying to get anyone's hope's up. Please take everything with a grain of salt. And I'm absolutely not trying to police the way that anyone feels about what happened. Everyone who was really attached to this character or who saw themselves in this character is dealing with this in their own way because, hey, potentially losing a character that you identified with or made you feel better about yourself sucks. For some people, that means ripping the bandaid off and assuming the worst, and that's valid. And I know that there are a lot of us out there who are feeling like Tech's character development this season happened only to twist the knife when they killed him, and feeling either betrayed or emotionally manipulated because of it. I could change my mind, but I'm personally choosing to disagree pretty strongly with that interpretation of the writers' intentions, but I do understand why people are feeling that way, and those feelings are valid, too. All I'm trying to do here is lay out my personal interpretations of the writers' intentions, and to make my case for why I believe with my whole heart that Tech's alive and on his way back. So.

Tech's Alive, Part One: The Terrain May Actually Be In Tech's Favor (content warning for death, injury, and frank but not graphic discussions of why extreme falls are often deadly):

Emphasis on "may" here, since we can't actually see much of it, and this is the weakest and least important piece of evidence. But, here goes.

Now that I've actually been able to feel my feelings about this whole thing, I have gone back and rewatched most of Plan 99, and something that struck me on rewatch was that the rail car doesn't appear to just be above a valley. We do see bits that are a long way down through some breaks in the clouds, and you have some main mountain peaks that are sticking up over the clouds, like the one connected to the main cable car station and the other with Tarkin's evil lair, but there are actually a number of smaller peaks just barely poking out above the clouds, including some fairly close to where Tech fell. This means that the terrain beneath the cloud cover, and into which Tech is falling the last time we see him, probably looks less like this:

(Apologies for the crappy drawings.)

And more like this:

This is a good thing.

There's a common misconception that someone who falls from an extreme height will be dead before they hit the ground. Now, people who fall can and sometimes do die during the fall, but it's not the falling itself that kills them. It's the panic. Or, rather, the potential heart attack that results from the panic, especially if they have a pre-existing heart condition. Or, if they're falling from high enough, asphyxiation due to the lack of oxygen at extreme (we're talking peak of Everest and above extreme) altitudes, but this is fairly rare. The "terminal" in terminal velocity doesn't refer to the speed at which falling becomes deadly; it refers to the point at which a falling object can no longer accelerate and will, if it doesn't experience an increase or decrease in friction or run into another object, maintain that speed through rest of the descent. No, it's not the fall that kills you--it's the landing.

Terminal velocity of a human body in a belly down, horizonal position is around 120 mph. With a human body in a more vertical position, it's closer to 150-180 mph. The sudden transition upon impact from either of those speeds to 0 mph ruptures pretty much everything necessary for, well, life almost instantly. So, what a person in freefall needs to survive the landing is something to slow their descent to survivable speeds before impact.

This is why Alan Magee, a WWII airman who survived a 22,000 foot fall, was able to survive. He crashed through the glass ceiling of a rail station, which slowed his descent enough that he was able to survive hitting the ground a second or two later. This is also, incidentally, why Hunter was able to survive his fall on Daros. The height from which he fell would be unsurvivable if he fell unimpeded, but we're shown that his fall is broken multiple times, by sliding down the cliff, hitting trees, etc, on the way down, meaning that he was never able to reach a speed at which the impact of the landing would have killed him and making his survival more plausible (even if his complete lack of serious injury isn't as much.)

Bringing this back around to Tech: Tech is falling and he needs to slow down. And, just before the camera cuts away from him, he does appear to be trying to do that; we see him throw his shoulders back and start to flip onto his stomach, which will slow him down, if not enough to survive. He’s willing to die to save his family, but he’s also trying to give himself the best chance. But if the terrain he's falling into really is dotted with mountains rather than being a straight fall into a flat valley, Tech’s got a good chance of not hitting the ground with a sudden, deadly impact. If Tech can fall into a slope, especially an extreme slope, that means his fall won't stop immediately.  He'll continue to fall, but it'll break his fall, and he'll have a much better chance of slowing his descent before final impact, or even of stopping gradually, all of which makes the fall more survivable. Furthermore, he's maybe still attached to that rail car, meaning:

1. The rail car could hit the same slope as Tech, but a little afterwads, meaning Tech would have already started to slide down and out of the way of the car. The car also has a better chance of hitting harder (being heavier) and gradually snagging on rocks or trees, providing Tech with a more gradual stop. Potentially. This is all potentially.

2. Tech could have climbed onto or into the railcar during the fall which, if it hits a slope, would either slide or roll to a stop rather than just stopping immediately, and could provide some protection against, again, rocks and trees.

3. Tech could fall into a crevasse and the rail car could get gradually wedged between the walls of the crevasse, slowing Tech's descent and giving him a chance to either climb up or cut himself free and fall a much smaller, more controlled, more survivable distance once he's stopped.

4. The trees at these altitudes are generally fairly thin--think lodgepole pines and krummholz and such. Meaning that the rail car could get snagged by one, but gradually, or that Tech's own fall would be repeatedly broken by branches.

5. Probably fifteen other scenarios I haven't thought of.

(This is all better than Tech maybe falling into water. We don't want him to fall into water, not unless he's slowed down a lot beforehand. Water doesn't compress--it moves out of the way, and it doesn't move fast enough to mitigate impact as much as you'd need to survive. The impact might not kill you, but it will probably knock you unconscious, so you'll drown anyway.)

Of course, you're probably wondering what the point of all of this is. I've been talking about how the terrain might affect the survivability of Tech's fall as though he's an actual flesh-and-blood human person and not a set of pixels in a Star War. So you're probably thinking hey! It's Star Wars! It doesn't matter how plausible survival is! And you would be absolutely right! I'm laying out why Tech surviving the fall from a practical point of view is, in fact, very plausible given what the terrain beneath the rail like might look like, but it's. It's Star Wars. Star Wars usually tries to give a semi-sorta-maybe-could-be-plausible explanation for why a character survives an unsurvivable situation--at least, one that kinda sorta maybe works in the confines of its own fictional universe, like, you know, Maul keeping himself alive with the force through the sheer power of his hatred (which is ridiculous but I accept it because it's star wars and there's magic just roll with it)--but not always. Deeefinitely not always. Maybe not even the majority of the time. Heck, Anakin used the force to literally bring Ahsoka back to life that one time, it’s all a free for all in there.

But, anyway, whether a character lives through a potentially unsurvivable situation has less to do with any handwaved plausibility and more to do with whether the storytellers want the character to survive. So while I do think there is an intentional measure of at least nodded-at plausibility to Tech's possible survival, it's not going to be as important as what J. Corbett and crew want to do with him. But, I'll admit, any potential plausibility does make me feel better.

Next up: The thing that everyone's already talked about so it's kind of moot, but I'm going to get into it anyway, because why not AKA The Goggles

[iwonderwh0]

More random notes

Same thing below in text

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Connor climbed over the railing to get closer to the edge of the roof.

"Why the fuck did you do that?"

"There's this weird feeling I get whenever I look down from a high point. It's like fear, but completely irrational as it appears even when they're no chance of falling actually involved"

"So you're scared of heights and because of that you decided to climb over the railing that keeps people from falling down."

"Yes."

"Can't argue with this logic."

"I just wanted to check something. If I get this feeling even when they're no risk involved, how will it change if I increase it?"

"So?"

"I feel like I'm dying right now."

"Really funny, Connor. Now get back here"

"I'm being serious, Hank."

"Then what the fuck are you waiting for? Get your ass back here."

[mimilind]

A Magical Classmate - Part 5

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 3200

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

You have two magical evenings with Drake.

5. Classical Music and Dancing

The first lecture after Christmas, Drake strolled inside very much like the day he first joined your class. A bit late, looking elegant in suit and tie, and paying no attention to the teacher. This time, however, he paid all the more attention to his classmates. Nodding, smiling, giving little waves, and to your increased delight he took his seat next to you.

Sitting beside him, you were reminded of how much you had missed him. Every day of the holidays you had thought about him and even counted the days until uni would start again – highly unusual, for you. 

“How was Christmas?” you whispered.

“Dull.”

“Were you in America with your family?”

“I was here in town, not doing much. I learned to bake gingersnaps… and practiced my Swedish. Oh, and I memorized the textbook for the new semester if there is anything you want explained.” 

Your chest grew tight. Had he been alone all through Christmas and New Years? Poor him… You wished you had known, then you could have come to visit. 

He poked you playfully. “Don’t look like that, it wasn’t too bad. I listened to a lot of music which was fun. I even bought CDs with that loud, noisy junk you guys listen to.”

You couldn’t talk more because of the ongoing lecture – people nearby were frowning at your whispering – but his grateful smile made you feel better. You were glad that Catrine suggested you buy him a present, and even more glad you had chosen something music related.

At lunch, Drake gathered everyone around him. “I have a belated Christmas gift for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” said Catrine.

“I wanted to.” He unfolded a glossy folder with the title ‘The Barber of Seville’. He explained it was an opera by Rossini, and that he had tickets for the entire class to the Sunday performance.

You were thrilled to get an evening in Drake’s company – even if it was together with everyone else. But when Sunday arrived, you became nervous. Opera seemed so fancy; what would you even wear? Should you bring a snack? Probably not popcorn and soda like when going to a movie… 

After changing clothes several times and spreading the contents of your wardrobe all over the room, you at last picked your most proper outfit, and brought no snacks. 

You arrived at the opera house half an hour early, and found Drake already waiting in the lobby. When you joined him, you decided to be bold. “I have never been to the opera before. Can I sit with you, so you can explain if I don’t understand?”

That was an excuse, of course; you just wanted to be near him.

“Sure.” He didn’t seem to suspect anything.

When everyone had come, you went to your seats together. They were at the third balcony, right in front of the stage. Ascending the stairs, you looked out through the panorama windows and admired the view of the Göta Älv river gleaming pink and orange in the evening sun. A sheen of frost was covering its calm surface.

You entered the narrow balcony and took your seat. When you peeked over the railing you saw how far below the floor was.

“Afraid of heights?” asked Drake amusedly.

You weren’t, but you didn’t mind if he thought so. “Very. You must comfort me!” 

“I don’t believe you.” He grabbed your shoulders, jokingly pushing you forward. 

You gave an undignified squeak as the sheer drop before you made your belly tingle. “Asshole,” you giggled, though you were secretly pleased with his teasing.

“That’s me,” he acceded unashamedly.

You took hold of his arm, leaning against him. “Now you made me even more afraid.”

“Liar.” But he didn’t push you away.

A sound began; the orchestra was tuning their instruments in the pit below the stage. The murmur of the audience silenced expectantly as everyone took their seats, and then the lights went out and the music began. 

Drake whispered in your ear: “This piece is called the overture. It’s an intro to the opera.” His breath tickled your neck and you shivered.

His arm was warm under yours and his perfume drifted to you. Did he think you could focus on the music under such circumstances?

But to your surprise your attention was soon caught by the unfolding drama. They sang in Italian, but there was a thin monitor above the stage with the translation. The singing was beautiful, and you found that you cared about Rosina and Count Almaviva. You wanted them to have their happy ever after, despite how stupidly the count went about his wooing.

Drake kept whispering explanations to you, because the storyline was often confusing and not very realistic – though still entertaining – and in doing so he sat so close to you his leg was pressed against yours. You still held his arm and contemplated taking his hand instead, but you were too afraid. What if he pushed you away? Hand-holding was quite something else than just sitting close. He might not be as into you as you hoped… and you didn’t want to risk losing his friendship.

Instead you decided to be content with what you had and enjoy the pleasant evening.

The following weeks, the lectures and labs continued as usual, and as time passed you became more and more convinced you had to do something about your crush on Drake. You couldn’t keep pining like this; it had a bad effect on your studies. And your appetite, and sleep, and mostly everything else, too…

On top of it all, there was talk on your campus about the upcoming spring ball, a very grand prom hosted by the technology university. One of your classmates had a contact who was a student there and could get you tickets.

None of your friends were going; Catrine found it too expensive and Martin didn’t like parties with a dress code. Andreas was not in town that weekend, and Drake seemed unaware of the event.

But you were intrigued. A ball… it sounded luxurious and exotic, like being in a fairy-tale. But in order to go, you needed a date, and the only date you wanted was Drake.

If you asked him, he was sure to suspect why.

After pondering about it through many sleepless nights, you finally decided to ask him after all. A prom meant classical music and classical dancing – you could make it sound like you asked him because he might like it, not because you wanted to go on a date with him. 

And if he turned you down, then at least you would know. Then you could forget him, and the way it felt now that would almost be a relief.

Despite your sound reasoning, bringing the subject up the next day made you a nervous, fluttering mess. You could only pray he wouldn’t notice how badly your fingers trembled.

“So, eh, did you hear? There’s this ball coming up at Chalmers, with fancy clothes and music, and waltzes and everything. Right up your alley. Wanna go?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I bet you are good at dancing, and I need a…” You had meant to say ‘date’ but changed the word at the last moment. “Uh, a friend to go with.”

For some reason, being called “friend” always made him look pleased, but he still seemed ambivalent. It took a while until he replied, during which your heart pounded so hard you feared he could hear it, and the trembles in your fingers worsened.

“Sure, why not?”

Nearly staggering with relief, you fought the urge to make a victory dance. “Good. That’s settled then,” you said as calmly as you could.

The day arrived at last. When you went out to the waiting taxi, you for once felt beautiful and attractive. Your outfit was rented for the occasion and fitted you perfectly, like it was made for you.

Drake had asked you to order the taxi, since he – strangely – had no phone. But he said he would pay for it, which was a relief; after buying the ball ticket you were rather broke. 

When the car drove up his street, you became nervous, but in a good way. Drake and you were going on a date! Or, not outright a date, but it still felt that way. You fidgeted with the fabric of your fine clothes as your heart beat faster and faster.

You saw him from far away where he stood waiting. He wore a black dress suit with tails again, with a green bowtie and matching pocket square, and he had combed his hair differently. It fell over his forehead in a side parting that suited him much better than his normal slicked back style.

As he entered the car, he looked around curiously as if he had never been in one before, and patted the leather upholstery appreciatively. “Nice.” Then he turned his eyes to you and stopped his motions. “You look great,” he said after a brief pause. It sounded like he had meant to say more.

You felt at a loss for words too. He was so handsome it almost hurt you physically just looking at him.

“You too,” you managed.

Then the taxi started and the intense moment was interrupted by Drake’s excited exclaim: “Wow, look how fast we’re going!”

The driver chuckled. “Fast? This?”

The car was in fact going very slowly, yet Drake seemed mesmerized by the ride, his face glued to the window like an eager retriever. 

After a while, he seemed to remember something and managed to tear his gaze away. “This is for you.” He put a small box in your hand.

“For me?” Surprised, you opened the box. There was a bracelet inside, with alternating green and silver beads. “Oh my God…” you breathed, toughing it with awe. “It’s beautiful.”

He pulled up his sleeve, showing an identical one on his wrist. “I wanted us to match tonight. Here, I’ll help put it on.” 

As his finger touched your arm, a shiver went through you. The bracelet felt cool against your skin.

“Thank you. I love it!” You probably ought to say that it was too much, and he shouldn’t have, but for once you held your tongue. He wanted you to have this and obviously could afford it. You didn’t want to make him feel bad.

When you arrived not long afterwards, you ascended the stairs to the banquet hall together. Observing the other finely dressed students, you saw Drake was easily the most handsome man there, looking so much like a prince you again wondered whether he was one for real. A prince in exile. 

Walking on his side, you felt like royalty too. 

On top of the stairs, a photographer offered to take a picture of you together. You were about to say yes but Drake swiftly said: “Nej tack,” in heavily accented Swedish.

As he pulled you away, you gave him a quizzical look.

“We will remember this night without a photograph, I am sure,” he said smoothly.

You nodded. There was no way you would ever forget such a magical evening, and then it had not even begun.

The banquet hall was amazing. Chandeliers spread a mild, warm light over the many tables, decorated with spring flowers and confetti. You found your seats next to each other, with your names written in gold letters on neat cards. Drake pulled out the chair for you before taking his own.

Drake and you were surrounded by technologists, who turned out to be both nice and funny. They didn’t mind speaking English for his sake. 

Thanks to them, you were taught the customs of a formal dinner. There were many toasts – to the spring, to women, to men, and other toasts just because – and each time you were supposed to say “skål”, raise your glass, and meet the gaze of first your date, then the person on your other side, and lastly the one opposite to you.

You loved the toasting. Looking deeply into Drake’s large, pale blue eyes gave you flutters each time, and you thought he might be similarly affected. The way his pupils grew slightly wider made you think he actually felt something more than friendship too. 

The evening progressed most pleasantly. You ate, one tasty course after the other, sipped sparkling wine and cider, listened to speeches and classical music, and of course talked to Drake a lot. He told you about formal dinners he had attended in his boarding school, and what his favorite foods were, and named all the classical pieces the orchestra played in the background.

He treated you most attentively, politely refilling your glass, and actually standing up when you had to go to the bathroom, and again when you returned so he could pull out your chair. You had never before felt so indulged and cared for.

When the dinner was over, the tables were moved aside to make space for dancing. Drake bowed to you. “May I have this dance?”

You readily accepted, your chest becoming full of butterflies, even more so as he took your hand and led you onto the dance floor. His hand was larger than yours, warm and calloused. 

The first dance would be a waltz as was the spring ball custom. You stood facing him, placing one hand on his broad shoulder and the other in his hand. Again feeling his warmth, his scent, meeting his gaze as he held you.

When the music played up he took the lead and elegantly moved you along the circle of pairs, dancing like a professional. His steps were so graceful you at first felt clumsy, despite how much you had practiced at home, but when you began to relax in his arms you soon found his skill helped you. Following his lead, you waltzed in unity, feeling light-footed and uncommonly gracile.

Others were looking at Drake and you with admiration, and no wonder. He was outshining the entire dance floor and it spilled over to you.

“Where did you learn to dance like this?” you asked breathlessly, both from the exertion and his closeness.

“I learned it as a boy. My parents often hosted balls and other social events before the war and I was expected to dance with all the old hags. I didn’t mind the dancing as such, but the stink of Chanel and mothballs nearly became the death of me.” He made a mock suffering grimace.

You frowned in puzzlement. “What war?”

“Did I say war? No, I meant before the… eh, bad times. You know, when uh…”

Even more puzzled, you tried to figure out what bad times those might be. Something financial, maybe, if it had put an end to balls and social events? “The nineties’ recession?” you suggested.

“That’s the one, yeah.” He spun you around a few turns and you had to focus on your steps instead of talking.

But you couldn’t help wondering a little. It felt like he really had meant to say “war”, but if so, what country was he from then? Somewhere in the Middle East? Perhaps his family were oil billionaires from Kuwait or something. Though, with his hair- and eye color he didn’t look very Arab… unless he was adopted? 

Either way, his casual comment had managed to increase your curiosity about him even further.

After the waltz finished, more followed. You danced until your feet hurt and you became hot and out of breath.

“Shall we catch some air?” Drake suggested, offering his arm.

You went down to the street outside, joining a small crowd of other tired guests, letting the fresh spring night air cool you off. When Drake removed his suit jacket and vest, you had a hard time taking your eyes off his shapely torso hinting through the shirt he wore underneath. You wished he would button it down, but this time he didn’t.

You drifted closer to him under the guise of moving away from a woman’s cigarette smoke. 

“I have had a magical evening so far,” you told him.

“Magical?” He grinned. “Glad you think so. I’m enjoying it too; great food, great music, and it’s been nice to waltz again. Been a while since the last time. Thanks for asking me.”

His smile was irresistible and you returned it. “Thanks for accepting.”

You returned inside and were thrilled when Drake hung his jacket on a chair first. Now when you put your hand on his shoulder in the dance, you could feel the warmth of his skin under the thin fabric. It made your heart throb quickly.

Your dancing improved steadily; you learned from his confident lead. It felt like being in a dream. You were allowed to be in his arms for a whole night… to continuously keep eye-contact. To feel his muscles move under your hand resting on his shoulder, and feel his hand holding yours… 

The final songs were slow and romantic. Drake drew you closer until you were practically dancing in a hug. As you leaned your head against his chest, the surreal feeling increased. This was too good to be true.

But soon it would end, and despite everything you still didn’t know how things were between Drake and you. Was this only friendship, or had it become more? He was your prom date and you had danced all evening, but he said himself he had even danced with old hags in his childhood so that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe he just liked the dancing itself and didn’t care who he did it with?

You needed to see him again, just the two of you, but the next ball was a year away. What could you suggest instead?

The music stopped. Time to say something… 

At the last moment you had an idea. “You know, now that we tried your kind of entertainment with that opera performance earlier and now a classical banquet and a ball, we ought to try my idea of a night out,” you said lightly, trying to act casual.

He looked amused. “What might that be? A student pub with bad music and getting wasted on cheap drinks?”

Your face grew hot as you were reminded of how you followed him home, drunk as a skunk. “No, but what do you say to fast food for starters, then watching a movie and eating lots of popcorn, and afterwards sharing a few drinks in the park?”

“Together with the rest of the class?”

You looked down, fidgeting with your sleeve. “Or just the two of us? Would be less, uh, crowded…”

He hesitated before replying, and when he did he sounded a bit guilty: “I’ve never seen a movie… it couldn’t hurt, I suppose.”

“What?” You forgot your embarrassment. “You never saw a movie? Not even renting a VHS and watching it at home?”

“My parents were very old-fashioned,” he said uncomfortably, and now it was his turn to avoid your gaze. 

“That explains a lot,” you said, thinking about how he always struggled with technical appliances, and didn’t even have a phone or a TV at home.

Not until you were getting into the waiting taxi a while later, did your brain catch his choice of tense. My parents were very old-fashioned. Were. Had they died?

Maybe you could ask him on the next date.

The thought filled you with a new swarm of butterflies. He had accepted! This was not the end; soon you would go on another date! And perhaps after that one, you would finally know what his feelings for you were.

A/N:

In case anyone wonders what the reader’s outfit for the ball was, it’s a bit difficult to say because it depends on the reader's gender and style. But google “spring prom” and check images, and pick the most beautiful dress or suit you find – that’s what you were wearing. :)

Translations: Nej tack = no thanks, skål = cheers

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

[kougeru]

Zenless Zone Zero

Genshin Impact was really interesting when it came out. But I had a ton of issues with it. The story being unskippable was my personal biggest gripe but in recent updates the performance has also dropped even with my 3080, and it was capped to 60 to begin with. There's definitely a lot to do but I often felt overwhelmed tether than like I was having fun. So I wanted to focus on the main story but I was constantly stalled due to characters being "busy" in other quests. I'm currently years behind even though I have some of the top tier characters that released recently. I enjoy the game but I don't love it.

Star Rail gave me new hope for a game with cute and cool waifu/husbando that I might enjoy a lot more. I like turned-based RPGs. I liked the designs of the first set of characters, especially Bailu and the dragon boy. But again the story failed to hook me and I was quickly overwhelmed by the tons of other things that exist. Today when I log into the game, it's always worse than I remember. The UI is so overwhelming with around a dozen or so buttons in the menu and way too many different things to do. It really feels impossible to keep up with. More than that though, I ended up being letdown by the combat. It didn't feel as deep as I hoped it would be. If I had enjoyed the story it might've been "good enough" but with both aspects being subpar and the UI being as bad as it is, I just couldn't bring myself keep up.

Then Wuthering Waves came out. I had no expectations. The character designs were pretty generic but the combat felt a lot better than Genshin and I loved the animations. The story was a mess and the world was ugly, but it was fun. There was a lot of issues that caused the developer to give away a ton of characters/resources so I had most of what I wanted early on but by the time Jinshi (dragon girl) banner came out, I realized I wasn't enjoying the daily grind and that I didn't care enough about the story.

This is pretty normal for gacha games that I like most. I'm usually out within a month. One of the few exceptions ever was Dragalia Lost. I enjoyed the gameplay a lot, the characters, and the story enough that I played it daily for years. I've been looking for something like that again.

After Wuthering Waves burned out, Zenless Zone Zero conveniently launched. The first few days I complained about the combat being brain-dead (basically 3 buttons), the UI being a mess (I still believe this), and the story being bland. But I was really depressed around that time and I had nothing else to do or play. So I forced myself to keep playing every day. The issues with the menu become less of a problem as you go. The combat became much deeper as levels increased. And the story is actually really interesting when you really pay attention. And a major aspect that I've found ZZZ does much better than Mihoyo's other games, is that they made the main character actually interesting.

Belle and Wise have actual personalities rather than being self-inserts like Traveler is and they're no where near as generic (personality AND looks) or boring as The Trailblazer. I've actually found this to be the case with every character in ZZZ. They're all very different in looks and gameplay. This felt so good after playing Genshin where most characters were really just different bodies for weapon styles with different specials. Every aspect is different in ZZZ. Visual appearance, heights and body shapes, weapons, combat animations, and special abilities. They're all unique and fun to play. The animations especially shine. I think being a more condensed/isolated world helped the developers focus on these things, as well as the performance and visual quality. The game is the first from Mihoyo with fully unlocked fps and I've never seen it fall below 100 fps. This gives the game an unrivaled level of smoothness, especially when combined with the fantastic animations.

Even random NPCs have great designs that aren't overused much in the same area, including one chunky cat.

The production level of the cutscenes is also very high. Gorgeous animations for the fun characters. Later on, it became clear that the combat actually has more depth than I thought. Like Genshin, a lot of it is really before the battle starts with setting up the character's gear. Then in combat there's mechanics such as switching at the right time, and to the right characters for that situation and things like Disorder. In most content, especially story content, none of this matters. But in the end game content it's a ton of fun to adjust your gameplay to push for the S Rank clears.

Zenless Zone Zero also has a gorgeous 90s/00s Retro aesthetic. This was really nice since older gamers generally don't get catered to these days.

The main missions are done in a strange maze of CRT screens connected by a "thread" that the player travels along. It was quite irritating at first due to the length of the missions but they've already taken feedback to alleviate this. In Patch 1.1 content I haven't found anything to take too long. In fact, it only took me a few hours to clear all the new content and I already have nothing left to do other than daily grinding. But even that has remained entertaining for over a month thanks to the great combat and fun-to-watch animations. I do think drop rates for higher quality mats needs to be improved or that the battery costs need to be reduced. With the way things are now, leveling up and powering up more than 3 characters takes over a month as f2p and some of the end game content requires multiple parties of different elements. Overall, I think this is the first time I've felt that a Mihoyo game has a lot of promise for my tastes personally. Now to pray that we get Jane Doe quickly on the next banner...