#and there Are reasonable options for mighty ships so its not like people just ship him with scourge because theyre desperate

[sonknuxadow]

the thing about mightourge is that ive never seen a single piece of content for that ship that doesnt make one or both of them wildly out of character. its always making scourge into this like. uwu soft boy who just needs someone to love him and then he'll become good. even though hes evil he sucks the whole idea behind his creation was just sonic but if he was an asshole. and mighty is a nice guy who doesnt particularly like needless violence but they always make him go "i can fix him <3333" over scourge. even though he is Like That. if we're going by their canon personalities mighty probably wouldnt be romantically interested in scourge at all. it feels like a ship that was invented for people who never actually read archie sonic and just like the version of scourge that exists in their head that they got from fanart and fanfiction. idk how to explain my thoughts properly but hopefully people will understand

[theadventurerslog]

The Curse of Monkey Island | Part 3

In which I continue the exploration of Plunder Island and work on getting a map, ship and crew. It was time to visit the Barbery Coast.

And Guybrush explains his presence before realizing it might not have been the best idea to talk about his solid gold girlfriend in front of pirates, barbers though they may be.

We've got some people to talk to here.

Edward VanHelgen: Not The! That's right, Edward 'Snugglecakes' VanHelgen. He wanted to enjoy the music of the sea without the dangers and so started a Barbershop Quartet! But they still needed money, so they opened an actual shop. They're also lacking a fourth member to be a quartet.

You can ask him about any cool pirate stories and he'll tell the story of a doomed voyage in which the crew was stricken with a melody. Incessant humming amongst the crew drove most of them mad and they returned with only 8 crew members. The melody is the main theme for Monkey Island. La la la la laaaa

You can also audition to the be the fourth member of their barbershop quartet!

Which is best heard for Guybrush's dulcet tones. I just love goofy extra things like this. And there are so many options! It could have been a one song and done deal, but they went for it. They're all entertainingly bad options, but 'There's a monkey in my pocket' has genuinely stuck with me for some reason. And as it gets referenced again in a future game, I guess I'm not the only one.

Once I was done torturing Edward, I also had the opportunity to ask him to join my crew. He won't unless I can best him in a gentleman's duel and can't initiate that without giving him sufficient insult. Some options pop up, such as the cutting "You big old bed-wetting doody head." None of them work, however.

I can actually do this now, but I wanted to save it for later. So moving on to...

Bill, that is Cutthroat Bill: Here's a salty pirate who likes treasure. Like Edward you can ask for a pirate story and he'll regale you with the tale of their captain with a special sense for treasure. He led them out one time but after sailing around for a while the crew's jewelry and belt buckles and whatnot were throwing him off. So, they dumped all that and set sail again for two years finding nothing until they came back to Puerto Pollo to find treasure just off the shore! ...belt buckles and jewelry and whatnot.

He's fine with his job, but not particularly enthusiastic. Not that he is about anything... but just really exudes joy here.

Utmost sarcasm.

You can ask him to join your crew but he refuses to have you as a captain if you haven't found any treasure. So we gotta find some treasure to lure him in.

If you examine him: "He's a salty pirate. Sucking on some candy." That's important. You can ask him about the candy and it's a jawbreaker, but trying to get anything more about it from him doesn't go anywhere. However, if you slap on his back, he chokes on the jawbreaker. Slap him again and he spits it out where it's then free for the taking. Ick.

In normal mode the jawbreaker is already on the floor in all its hairy, spit-covered disgusting glory. If I remember right from my first time playing this mode I discovered slapping Bill's back to make him choke by complete accident and then that led to the solution, so it all worked out.

Haggis McMutton: Won't talk yet because he's busy cutting the hair of one...

Captain Renee Rottingham: "Only the most cunning and well-groomed captain to sail the Caribbean." Who won't really give me the time of day either, but will sure supply the snobbery. He doesn't believe Guybrush is a mighty pirate. If Guybrush is a mighty pirate, then he's bald.

You can ask him to join your crew too, but that's only laughable to him.

He needs to be removed so we can talk to McMutton. There are various dialogue options to taunt him about possible hair problems, or try to get him out but none of them are the answer. Just fun to bother him because he's an arrogant snot.

Other more extreme methods were needed. There's a comb that the barber periodically picks up while he's working on Rottingham's hair. That comb can't be picked up, but we can add something to it. The lice!

McMutton is horrified by them and there's only one option to deal with this. Amputation (of the hair.) To Rottingham's utter horror--his hair will be ruined! His hair will be outright removed is what it'll be.

And then McMutton tosses him out, so I can finally talk to him. Who's bald now!

A few things of note about Haggis McMutton here:

Like the others he has a story to tell about his former captain and crew who'd tried to get treasure but weren't strong enough then their rival came and got it with tools. Very sad.

His best pair of scissors that can cut through anything are stuck in the ceiling where they landed after they flew out of his hands when he was cutting hair too fast. He won't give them up though; they can cut through anything.

You can ask for a haircut which gets Guybrush in the chair. From there you can kick away the paperweight from the book causing McMutton to lose his page, so he'll leave to find another. Then the chair handle can be fiddled with enough times to get Guybrush to raise it all the way to the ceiling to grab the scissors. McMutton then returns without a replacement rock so he'll have to eyeball the haircut and Guybrush gets out of there.

McMutton is another crew member possibility but Guybrush has to prove his strength first by beating him in a caber toss. This is something that can be tried immediately as well, so it was off to the field of battle.

Where we promptly lose, basically knocking over his trunk instead of even throwing it. McMutton would never follow such a weak captain.

And a last detail in this shop:

All the portraits along the wall have a rhyming bit about the kind of hair styling/cut they got. I also tried picking up all the portraits. They all have some variation on not wanting it because of how ugly it is, except the parrot. The parrot is good. The parrot is the only good art in here. I feel like I have tried to pick up the parrot portrait before but I don't usually for the others. That was less familiar anyway.

Long live Crackers the Parrot. Well, his portrait anyway. He only lived a year...

Normally, I would leave at this point now I have the scissors. But, I have what I need to insult Edward and duel him, so I figured I'd get it done right away for a change. A gentleman's duel is initiated with the slap of the white glove and so it's to the field of battle once more!

Where you're given a choice of pistols. You can grab any of them, it doesn't matter.

But once you grab a pistol the duel starts and you immediately lose.

Edward is just that speedy and fires as soon they both turn around. And gloats.

Pistols aren't the answer. You know what is the answer?

In that pistol choice, you can flip the middle box's lid to reveal a banjo case in full. Choose the banjo! Even Guybrush is surprised that Edward accepts. Commence the Banjo Duel and greatness.

I love this bit so much. There are a lot of stand-out moments in this game. This is one of them. This is a bit I remember seeing our parents play through. I remember them laughing at this and I remember knowing what to do when getting to this point myself.

You just have to match the strings that Edward plays and there are three rounds with an increasing number of notes played, starting with 4 notes and ending with 6. Once you get through that though, Edward gets real serious and starts rocking out with his banjo and Guybrush has no chance of following him. But we're given full control again and there are always other methods...

The pistols are still available, so grab one and use it on Edward's banjo.

Blam.

One busted banjo, putting an end to that showoff.

Edward's impressed by such a lowdown trick. Guybrush is a real pirate after all! And so Edward is happy to join the crew. First crew member acquired!

That's everything that could be done at the Barbery Coast for now. With the scissors I was able to go cut through that jungle that was blocking the route to Danjer Cove. Doing so also cut off an ipecac flower that was added to the inventory.

That took me to a clifftop and a variety of items and a sign... Snake Crossing...

As soon as you try to move the reason for that sign becomes apparent.

One snakey ambush.

And one eaten Guybrush. Well, swallowed anyway. I don't know that you can really say eaten; he's fine. For now. Just jammed in there...

The various items scattered around would all be helpful in this snake situation, such as a snake beating club, high fibre bran cereal, or jaws of life. But, of course, Guybrush can't reach them from inside a snake. There is however quite a collection of items the snake swallowed that's free for the taking.

A whole bunch of items.

Most of them are useless but the are a few important things here:

encyclopedia most of which is too battered or digested to read, but there is a page about what a compass is

reservation slip for Blondebeard's Chicken Shop

syrup

Now there was that sign earlier talking about how the ipecac flower was used as purgative. That was an important hint for this part. You gotta use the ipecac flower with the syrup to make syrup of ipecac then use it with the snake.

And the snake vomits Guybrush out.

All good!

Or not... out of the frying pan into the fire, as we've landed in quicksand. And unfortunately, most of the stuff from the snake got sucked out by the quicksand, except for the encyclopedia and reservation.

This was another area I remember being stuck in when I was a kid. But there are a few things here for use or for information:

sign from a former naturalist talking about quicksand before devolving into asking for help...

reeds

Pappapishu Bush, which according to its sign, it was named by the Plunder Island indigenous people and named after their word meaning 'Youch!". The fun thing about examining that is that Guybrush will start saying Pappapishu at points he'd say ouch, like when getting a thorn off that bush

life saving vine - can't reach

branch pinning the life saving vine down

So, the vine is needed here, but it needs to be freed. You have to attach one of the helium balloons (had from the start of the game) to the paperweight which makes the rock float. Then attach the thorn to the reed to make a peashooter.

Blow on the balloon to float the rock over the branch and vine, then use the peashooter to pop the balloon dropping the rock and freeing the vine, so Guybrush can pull himself out. And we're free! And from there it takes us to Danger Cove.

Unfortunately, there's not much to be done at Danger Cove yet. The pirate ship that stole Elaine can be seen but the only way over is a boat with a hole that makes it useless until the hole is patched up. It's a nice little area though! I like the waterfall--obligatory waterfall screenshot.

Now that I had a reservation it was off to Blondebeard's. There is quite a bit to do here starting with Blondebeard himself who has plenty to say:

First: He's all out of chicken, so there's not much to serve, all thanks to...the devil chicken, El Pollo Diablo! He's sure this giant evil chicken is out for revenge, unleashing all his chickens and eventually...coming for him. But he'll be ready to take him on and solve his chicken crisis.

The devil chicken.

Second: You can ask him to join your crew, but he's offended at the idea of leaving his shop.

Third: You find out he's a member of the Brimstone Beachclub but lost his membership card during an awful sneezing fit in the kitchen while preparing chicken.

Fourth: He has a gold tooth. Very admirable. Very...gold.

Fifth: He's running behind on a delivery to the mangy pirates in Danjer Cove and warns not to go near them. If you're caught near their boat you'll be tortured for sure.

Sixth: And finally conversation leads to him craving something hard and crunchy to crack his teeth on. He's missing his bucket o' beaks due to the chicken shortage.

As for the shop itself there are yet more things:

First: Barrel of 'Biscuits 'n' More.' Buttery tasty biscuits. You can grab one, bite it and... eugh, there are maggots in there. Congrats, there's the more. But both biscuit and maggots are added to the inventory.

Second: There's a pie plate and biscuit cutter off to the side that can both be scooped.

Third: There's a quiet patron sitting at the table with a gross crusty greasy roast chicken, I guess the last one. He won't respond if you talk to him and you can slap him on the back causing him to fall over the table and is then revealed to be a skeleton with a knife in his back. One of LeChuck's skeletal horde who insulted Blondebeard's chicken and Blondebeard wasn't having that. He also has an "Ask me about Grim Fandango" button. Yeah, he's an ad and reference to Grim Fandango, but you get the knife. And Grim Fandango is a great game, so it's deserved.

Fourth: The chicken. If you use the maggots on it they eat all the meat leaving only the bones and a Brimstone Beachclub membership card. That was one heck of a sneeze. This is another Mega Monkey thing. In normal mode the chicken is already gone and the bones are there with the card on full display.

Fifth: There's a menu you can examine to see all kinds of items that are served. There are several, including the biscuits of which the comment changes if you've already tried them. Guybrush is grossed out. There are other things too like Blondebeard's Mashed Taters.

Mashed chitin and flour mixed with coconut milk.

It took me a few plays to release the menu was split into multiple parts--mains, sides and drinks--and you could examine them each multiple times for multiple results. Doing this affects some dialogue later too!

And finally back to Blondebeard's gold tooth. There's the gold we need for treasure. He wanted something crunchy, so give him the jawbreaker. That loosens his gold tooth and then he wants something fleshy and chewy instead. So, give him the steak flavoured gum. He blows a bubble with it and inside the bubble is the tooth.

Pop the bubble with the needle causing the tooth to fall out. And it's free for the grabbing. In normal mode you'd be able to grab it and walk out. Not so in Mega Monkey and I still remember being startled when I tried to walk out only to be stopped by Blondebeard who searches you and takes the tooth back. So, another way to get the tooth is needed. I'd gotten stuck back then here too.

But what you have to do is, chew some gum yourself that gives you chewed gum, add the tooth to the chewed gum, suck in some helium from the helium balloons, chew the gum again and Guybrush will blow a bubble that will then float away out the open window.

There'll be a rattling sound from outside. Go outside and there's a drain pipe and mud puddle.

Use the pie pan on the mud to pan for gold.

And presto we have a gold tooth.

I brought it back to Cutthroat Bill who took the gold tooth and is now willing to join my crew.

2/3 crew members acquired!

And I now have all the materials I need to start work on getting Haggis to join, and I can get moving toward the map and ship as well. Next time!

[thewestern]

Chapter 16

Driving back over the bridge, the murky brown water beneath was running low and slow to merely a trickle. When they were just a couple of pequenitos, Kitty and her brother used to splash about in the backwater pools of that pathetic excuse for a waterway. Little kids still played there but Kitty thought they were loco to do so. Que agua tan sucia. What with the discarded rubbish — bottles, cans, syringes — bobbing downstream. The poor children — los hijos pobres — wading in gore. Some Monday evenings she would join the Newfy Run Club for a jog along the pedestrian pathway that ran parallel to the westernmost bank, the length of downtown. For their part, the NRC had about a five-kilometer loop, starting and ending at the green awning. There was the option to stretch the route to ten kilometers, although Kitty seldom did. She ran two years of cross country at West High, but even then running was something she could only tolerate. And only to a point. Never one past some threshold of fatigue and pain into one supposedly of euphoria. Runners’ High. As if. Then again, the serial marathoner types in the Monday-night crew sure seemed to be getting off on something. Likely of their own supply. Jogging amongst hobbyists the likes of Kitty, they fancied themselves to be Endurance Athletes. What a bunch of sickos. Fitness tracking every step they took, every breath, every heartbeat. All kitted out in the latest in moisture-wicking synthetic fabrics. Meanwhile Mick’s hand-me-down NFBC tees, which Kitty wore exclusively for exercise and sleep, seemed designed specifically to be moisture-absorbent. Particularly in that heathered gray color, which accentuated the outline of your perspiration just so. Like a Rorschach test of boob sweat. To match, not unlike Michael Jordan, Kitty still hoarded her thread-bare shorts from high school, team-issue, with the little block arrow running through the WHCC, although she’d been meaning to toss those. They were looking a little ratchet, in her words (that she pronounced in the French, ra_shay). Maybe then this Christmas she’d ask Mick for new workout clothes.  

  The bridge was built a good ways up there, high enough to accommodate any underpassing vessel, ironically. Reason being, back when the city was just a tinpan camp for dusty old prospectors, the major land-havers and other boosters would print up these brochures for sending back east, hyping up the city as a desirable frontier destination. A Pearl on the Plains. Good quality of life, great schools, etc. As for its viability as a hub for commerce, since transcontinental rail didn’t exist yet, one of the main selling points was this river that passed right through town. Their copy claimed it was quite a a strong current indeed, as wide, or even wider in stretches than the Mighty Mississipp’. In no time at all there’d be a veritable armada running up and down-stream, shipping all manner of pelts, hides and other wares.

Well that was a fucking lie. Water wasn’t hardly deep enough to accommodate Hank’s kayak, never mind Steamboat fucking Willie. Hell, it was shallow enough Kitty could probably ford that sorry excuse for a creek in her station wagon. Like that old computer game she could vaguely remember playing in the computer lab, where she would seclude herself most recesses. Everyone in your party has died, the screen’d say in that eight-bit font when your simulated river crossing failed, either on account of the riverbed was too muddy and you got stuck, or maybe you tried to float it, but the wagon was overloaded with supplies and it capsized. Could have been any number of reasons how come you and your people came to perish, never mind whether it were you made it to t’other side of that crick. Dysentery and cholera being chief among them. That means shitting yourself to death, basically. But also there was typhoid, measles, getting bit by a snake. For a fact, one in ten of those folks who set off on that westbound trail didn’t make their destination. Hey, speaketh of which, you ever have that funny feeling that you want to swerve off the side of a bridge, crashing through the guardrail, airborne just long enough to reckon with the fact of you’re falling, have that awful, albeit life-affirming sensation of your stomach lurching its way up out of your throat, the one you only get on top of a rollercoaster or before your first kiss in the planetarium; to have that feeling one final time, before your station wagon hits the water, slamming against the surface tension like it’s a fucking brick wall, killing you instantly on impact of blunt force trauma or a spinal cord rupture, or at least knocking you unconcsious to the extent that you drown comparatively peacefully, or preferably, so that you may go out in a blaze of glory, and since the water here is hardly deep enough anyway, the car explodes into a massive fireball upon the jagged rocks below? 

Yea, Kitty neither. 

Zeke was likewise looking out over the bridge, just thinking. It bears mention that this was no average bridge. It was a brand-spanking new suspension bridge the city had just erected. (Just a few short years after civil engineers had determined its predecessor to be on the verge of collapse.) This as part of a massive transportation infrastructure, overhaul funded through Mayor Mockingbird’s public bond package, the signature (and sole) legislative achievement of his first term. That was what he ran on. More bridges, tunnels, lanes and roads. For to get you to work more faster. Zeke too. About on the hour, almost every hour, right over top of this great big new bridge, this monument to the Mayor’s executive virility, traveled the Number Ten bus. Of all the five busses he took in total getting to and fro the brewery, The Ten was the by far sketchiest. Maybe because it emanated from the downtown station — a central gathering place for fringe types. But also because the bus itself was old and sad and decrepit. All the seat cushions — if you could call them that, they were so worn down — had been upholstered in a very seventies plaid, of whose crisscrossing colors — oranges, yellows and browns — had faded underneath god only-knows how many coats of fermented bodily fluids. (Perhaps that was how come they chose that rather unfortunate palette. For to camouflage the phlegm.) On that leg of the commute, Zeke elected to stand. 

Hitching a ride in Kitty’s car then was far more comfortable. Even if the back seat was considerably cramped for a fella his size, it was still downright spacious when compared to the Ten Bus at rush hour. Good thing then he rode mostly during off-peak times, although his fellow passengers on the pink eye could be a somewhat poorly lot. Grace’s recent antics notwithstanding, this was a much more civilized traveling party. Nobody was using Kitty’s station wagon as a toilet, for example. Although by now she was getting damn close. She’d have used the bathroom unit on the way out of #x_brüing but the line was still too damn long. Mick about pissed himself just looking at it, and he hadn’t even had to go. 

Come to think of, Zeke had noticed Kitty was driving a fair bit faster on the return trip. Although with her lead foot, he was in capable hands. Always at ten and two, pulling up to school at precisely ten of eight and not a moment sooner. Partly because the Mick would often make a big production out of breakfast — steel cut oatmeal garnished with seasonal berries and nuts, five-cheese omelets with garden-fresh veggies and hand-foraged mushrooms, fucking challah bread french toast and bacon. The latter or some other confection only on occasions that he deemed to be special. Not an especially high bar to clear. An average Tuesday could qualify if he’d been as such inclined. 

Burning rubber into the faculty lot with a belly full of eggs benny, Kitty couldn’t help but notice all the fancy foreign cars. How in the world could her colleagues possibly afford these on a teacher’s salary? Was she managing her and Mick’s money poorly? Were they spending too much on breakfast foods? Now she was feeling self-conscious. And doubly so, she was feeling self-conscious About feeling self-conscious. That was a feeling she felt all too increasingly of late. Get a grip, girl. Who cares? Probably they had significant others who were doctors or lawyers or something. Multi-car families. Zeke had always been in a zero-car family, unless you count his uncle’s panel van that he split with his brother for going on jobs. On the side, they printed DRYWALL, above a number for a beeper, which they also shared. 

Zeke’s phone buzzed. 

From: Mayor Lawrence Mockingbird for Governor (info@M4M.com) 

Subject: I Need You [Pointing emoji]

Preview: Yes, Ezekiel. I need You. You specifically … 

Whoa. Wait a second. For a moment there Zeke really thought the Mayor was reaching out to personally seek his council on a matter of urgent city business. Something so important that he used his given name. Then he opened the email and right there at the top was a big blue button marked Click to DONATE. Turned out to be an invitation to an upcoming Young Professionals fundraiser at #x_brüing. Zeke didn’t much consider himself a young professional. For one thing, he hadn’t conducted a lot of official business on this his work email. Really he hardly received any messages at all, unless of course you counted Thadeus and Louisa copying the entire Newfy staff plus Kitty on their interminable back-and-forth thread of idle threats, essentially an online extension of their IRL quarreling, annotated with hyperlinks to viral videos of backyard bare-knuckle boxing matches and people being attacked by wild animals. 

All which begs the question, why would the mayor ask Zeke for money? He didn’t have any. Like didn’t he — the mayor — know the second richest person in the world? He should hit up that guy. 

It was for this reason that the Mick was most happy to pass his old new phone down to Zeke. That he hated having correspondences delivered to his pocket. All the day long, it would tremor at his right hip. The lawyers. The contractor. The bank. The lawyer again, reaching out on behalf of the contractors, cc’ing the bank. The detective from the Parks Service. The Council of Brewers. (D-d-d-douchebags.) The lawyer, two more times. Everybody wants something he doesn’t got.  

And all these inbound inquiries to his work address, the mick at newfybrew dot com, those weren’t even counting the emails related to his actual job. Although those he could mostly ignore with reckless abandon. The obscure brewing industry vendors shamelessly attempting to upsell the latest and greatest in craft beer innovation. Are you getting the absolute most out of your glycol chilling units? Have you serviced your brewing equipment with the highest-performance food-grade lubricants? What does malt Mean to you? Not exactly the questions that keep you up at night. 

However, even if the electronic solicitations were only a minor nuisance, the reviews … well, those he did lose sleep over. Oh, how he hated the fucking reviews. If the Mick could rate reviews, he would give them zero stars. Fervently he believed that one day we would all reflect on them — these online reviews — as something we wish we could un-invent, paraphrasing Nicholas Cage in his favorite movie, The Rock. 

(As justification for the United States invading Iraq [this for the second time … unlike The Rock, Desert Storm — the far inferior Michael Bay movie — got a sequel], Bush Administration officials cited intelligence reports that Sadaam Hussein was rapidly accelerating a chemical weapons program. Among their expanding capabilities was said to be a skin-melting gaseous agent, packaged in spherical glass containers that were strung together like killer Christmas lights. Turns out, not only did all the Intelligence about that camel fucker’s supposed arsenal of WMDs turn out to be totally bogus, but that specific fantasy about the anal beads filled with flesh-eating gas … well that was taken straight from a Hollywood film: The motherfucking Rock, starring none other than Nic motherfucking Cage.) 

Let‘s for a second consider the personal ramifications of these Reviews, from the Mick’s perspective. Okay. So every time some dickhead wanders into the bar and has even a modicum of an opinion about his or her experience — be it positive, or let’s be honest, it was definitely negative — he or she may now dictate that proto-though, stream of fucking consciousness, into the Cloud, wherefrom instantaneously thereafter it is beamed from that person’s fat fingers, off a satellite somewhere in goddamn outer space, back down to wherever on planet earth the Mick happened to be at that given moment, quite often on the the toilet, at which point his mobile phone would begin to seizure uncontrollably, alerting him via email notification settings that he does not know how to modify. 

Then the Mick is rendered this review, a final judgement that is arrived at through no semblance of due process, nor is it subject thereafter to any appellate procedure. Nonetheless, it ascribes to him a numeric rating which is inscribed on the Internet in digital ink for all time. A jury of your peer has found you guilty on two counts of felony pouring too much foam, and three counts of it being too loud in here. The honourable judge Doug F. of Sacramento sentences you to one of five stars. [Bangs gavel.]

Having that hanging over your head at all times … well, it was existential dread-inducing, even for the most self-assured of service industry professionals. 

Funnily enough though, it was the rare positive feedback that would really get his goat, even moreso than the garden variety vitriol. Regarding the latter, it was easy to be dismissive. Like, fuck ‘em, you know? Bunch of entitled assholes. You’re a one-star person. How do you like that? 

(You might expect Thadeus and Lousia to have received their fair share of unfavourable reviews. Not the case. They were merely ever mentioned. The Mick thought it was for fear of retribution.)

But, as for the positive feedback, the full-throated recommendations, the unabashed praise … well, that was something else entirely. Something which the Mick could never quite get his head around. Like, what’s your angle? Were you so blown away by the Black Hole Imperial Stout (the Mick wanted to call it Horse Fucker, after Catherine the Great, but Hank would not abide despite also his being a history buff), and the atmosphere in which you consumed it, to the extent you felt compelled to crank out five hundred words? What, on the transcendence of that experience? Why, exactly? Out of the goodness of your heart? For the civilizing arts of commerce? Sorry, bud. I don’t buy it. Say what you will about the morality of our American tipping culture. But, hey, that’s cash in my pocket. U.S. dollars, kimosabe. Your money spends. Your opinions? Opinions are like assholes, Cliff used to say. And this time the Mick remembered why. Because everybody’s got one. Yep. 

The worse he was for it, the Mick read every solitary last one of those reviews. He’d drop whatever he was doing too to do so. When he had that phone, with the email on it? Forget about it. He could be lain wide awake next to Kitty in their marital bed, her dreaming peacefully, him getting all the wrong kinds of riled up, scrolling like there’d be no tomorrow. Then after that you know he couldn’t fall back asleep for fuck all, so he’d have to digitally detox himself. For that he liked reading the show reviews on the online forum, phish dot net … get it? Now you’re thinking, what makes these reviews any better than t’others? He couldn’t tell you why. Just that he liked these ones. 

He never could bring himself to post his own, though, for the handful of shows he had attended in person. The Mick (username: llambic1900) was what you would call a Lurker in the parlance of message board culture. He would read these cryptic entries and feel somewhat apart, even though he knew all the etymology, the historiography, the symbology,— all of the -ologies, of which these forums were chalk fucking full. For better or for worse, that was a big part of being a Phish fan. Homework. Have you done the reading? Just kidding. Because life’s this big cosmic joke. But it’s an inside joke. And you get it, man. You do. 

Whereas, and pardon the generalization here, a Grateful Dead fan looked at life like this big cosmic mystery. Sure, there were laughs along the way, but this shit was serious. No fucking clever puns, cryptid clues in a Sunday show crossword puzzle. Rather, it was a magic riddle. And only in listening layeth the answer. The truth that would gain you passage to the other side.   

Anyways, that was one thing he missed not having on the old flippy phone. Reading Phish reviews in bed. Raging against the blue light as it strained his tired eyes.  Also, it was convenient, being able to look up the weather. And getting directions to places on the GPS. That’d been handy. Lately he had to go back to printing them off Hank’s computer, which now seemed burdensome beyond belief. 

Currently, on the car ride back from his do-si-do with Dandy Jim (no need for maps — didn’t matter where in the world he was, he knew the way back to the brewery by heart, like a lost dog finding his way home), the Mick was cleansing his ear pallet from that Frankenstein’s fucking monster of a mashup. Good thing he had just the sonic sorbet: Phish. 2010 Late Summer Tour. 6 August 2010, William Randolph Hearst Greek Theater, Berkeley. Help me, oh kee pah. You’re my only hope. Kitty always got a kick out of the way he would carry his CD binder and brewer’s notebook back and forth between the bar and her station wagon, like the old car stereos you would remove from the dash to prevent their being stolen. When they made a pit stop he was dillegent about hiding them beneath the passenger seat. Imagine a desperate car thief’s surprise, upon smashing out the passenger’s side window to this absolute beater, to find a decade’s-worth of beer recipes and twice that’s-worth of concert bootlegs.

Including Phish at the Greek, the subject of eleven show reviews posted to the online forum. One prolific poster, known by the username, waxbanks (criticism =/= cynicism, or so his bio reads), writes: 

Yes, Trey absolutely *butchers* the Ghost > Mike's 'transition,' pointing to a worrying trend in Phish's music, an apprehensiveness or impatience on Trey's part, far removed from the patient and generous playing throughout the rest of the show. The sudden insertion of Mike's Song into the winning Ghost jam is a clunker on par with the 2009 Hartford DWD > Wilson. Ugh. But the rest of the second set approaches perfection. And you can't get There without passing through the points between There and Here…

Fuckin' a. 

Not unlike Trey in the first part of the second set, something was definitely off with Kitty. That much the Mick could tell. There had been since everything popped off yesterday. That could explain things. She corrected him when he brought up Hank’s Funeral at the breakfast table, where her Belgian waffle was getting cold. 

It’s not a funeral because there is no Hank. And because it’s at a bar. 

So what? We got married in a bar, Mick thought. That bar, actually. But he didn’t start, and off she went to school. Hank had always said they didn’t fight enough, that fighting was a healthy part of relationships, within reason. But then again what did he know.    

Maybe it was that her new job had something to do with it. Kind of got the feeling the bloom was falling off the rose on that one. Even before accepting the offer, she was acting unsure of herself in a very uncharacteristically Kitty way, about leaving West. Of course he was supportive, but the way they talked about it, Mick got the impression that she wanted something more out of him. Like permission. Or was it the opposite? That he would forbid her from taking this great opportunity at the fancy new school with a modest increase in pay. Why she would desire either was a mystery to him.  

Suppose then of course he could fucking well ask, suggests Hank’s ghost, getting in people’s business beyond the fucking grave.

In any event, they hadn’t made it anywhere’s near the second set. Unless you were on some kind of road trip, in the car you were lucky to finish one, maybe two songs, traffic pending. Keep in mind these are ten, fifteen, twenty-minute opuses we’re talking about here. No fucking top forty radio edit. Don’t bore us, get to the chorus? Get lost. For a fact, these aren’t even songs. Not in that way. They’re more like maps … to buried treasure. Fucking ancient scrolls. It’s no wonder then fans treat them like scholarly texts, worthy of being categorized and analysed. When Rome inevitably burns, these natural histories will be all that remains. 

Of track five, the one they were enjoying at present, username Jmart exclaims to posterity: this jam is the shit … one of my absolute favorites from Three-Point-Oh. 

The Mick wouldn’t trifle with that assessment one bit. 

Did I forget to mention, to mention Memphis

Home of Elvis and the ancient Greeks

Do I smell? I smell home cooking

It's only the river, it's only the river.

Grace slept. 

[crackinglamb]

Tell me about Cadash and Solas 🥺

I lovingly blame you for this being a thing that came out of my head, by the way. You are 100% responsible for me shipping this. 😘

Lark Cadash is a Carta smuggler/assassin who was trained by her grandmother to actually be a Shaper. She's a bit of a wanderer, a little rebellious and one might even say reckless. I've made up a ridiculous amount of House Cadash lore going back to Cad-Halash, which includes her knowing a fair amount of Elvish history and language too. For Plot Reasons(tm). Anyway, Lark finds a ruin in 9:40 Dragon or so, and the sleeping Elvhen man within...

And that became Of Ruins and Restoration.

(TL;DR - she's there when Solas wakes up, realizes that he's Elvhen, although she doesn't know who he is. They have an immediate spark but part ways, she ends up becoming the Herald. dun dun DUNN!)

Now, I have to say, even before the overwhelming response I got to this little oneshot, I had thoughts about writing more of it. To date, I've decided that I'll let what is posted stand as is until the rest is completed, because it holds up fairly well on its own.

But, there is most definitely more...

“Would you want to go back?” Solas asked in the quiet of the night, when Cassandra and Varric had gone to sleep and it felt like there was nothing else in the world but the pair of them and a fire.

“Back?”

“To your thaig. To your history. Do you miss it?”

She gave him a look across the fire, part incredulous and part chiding. “Pride, I heard you have this exact same conversation with Varric already. And my answer will not be much different than his.”

“Not much is still some.”

She sighed. “Fine. There's nothing to miss, in case you've forgotten. My House was exiled for a reason. My line has been surfacers longer than the Tethrases by generations. What would I go back to, given the option...Orzammar? Why would I want to? I would be casteless, branded as unfit for society. I'm already looked upon that way just by being in the Carta. At least up here I can make my own rules for it.”

“You are far more than a Carta lyrium smuggler.”

“You're right. I am. I was supposed to become a Shaper. To follow in the footsteps of my Ancestors and recite the memories to keep them alive. I suppose that would have made me noble caste, if I was allowed to prove it. But I wouldn't be. My Granddam died of a wasting disease because no one would treat a dwarf who coughed up blood.” She frowned at him as she snarled the words, trying to hide the pain of that loss behind fury. “My training was incomplete, and I was left with no other options.”

“Until now.”

“Right, because this will all end well,” she scoffed. “What are you getting from asking, anyhow? What's it to you?”

“Dwarves held a once mighty empire below the earth. It stretched beyond the borders of Thedas and went to places even I am not aware of. And now it is lost, as your people were lost to me in the Fade.”

“Because we don't dream.”

“Yes.”

“Well, we lost our mighty empire, as you put it, because someone unleashed darkspawn upon the world. The Chantry says it was Magisters breaking into the Fade. The Shaperate says they are older than that.”

“They are,” he said softly. Abruptly he looked away and his face was so sad she thought it might crack like glass. He collected himself and smiled wanly across the fire at her. “Forgive me, falon. I should not have asked. But you have given me much to think upon.”

Falon, he calls me. More than mere acquaintances, less than kin.

“Da'banal,” she said carefully, hoping to draw him back from the brink of whatever abyssal emotion had taken him by using his own tongue. And for a moment it appeared to work; the corners of his lips ticked up into a stronger, more genuine smile.

“On nydha, Lark. Do not waste precious hours of rest by this fire.”

“Goodnight, Pride. Don't waste your hours either.”

[jonthethinker]

I imagine that, for most of her life, Beauregard Lionett has been the living embodiment of a clenched fist.

 The life she could have had, had her father not been the man he was, had he not lay the full weight of his expectation and vision and above all paranoia on the slender shoulders of his only daughter, is a question worth exploring. Beau in the present is full of energy and always craves activity and stimulus, and it’s not hard to imagine that’s how she was as a child; many a grass-stained dress, I’m sure, and I tend to think she was the sort of kid to dig holes just to see what she could find, curiosity unbounded even at an early age.

If her energy had been redirected instead of squashed, if her curiosity had been rewarded instead of reprimanded, if her cleverness had been sharpened instead of scolded, Beauregard Lionett may have been on the path to become the most renown vintner in all of Wildemount. But instead what her future held in store for her was white knuckles.

The picture painted by the wonderful Marisha Ray of the life of Young Beau is one of a desperate fight for agency, and denial and defeat in this quest at every turn. With her bright mind, she attempts to create a new path for the family brand to take, but is rejected outright by her father. So what does Beau do in response? In typical Beau fashion, she says fuck you and begins to bootleg the family wine right under her father’s nose. I think this was in part to obviously get one over on her father, but also to prove to herself that she could in fact sell the wine better. This is a feature of Beau’s personality that pops up over and over; her need to prove to herself and others her own value. I have no doubt that Young Beau tried so hard to impress her contacts in the small world of underground wine bootlegging, just to get some sort of validation or affirmation, and no doubt that this was used against her again and again, her nails digging ever deeper into her palms.

Of course her father finds out, and she is cast away; exasperated that his daughter isn’t planted firmly under his thumb like any good heir would be, he ships her off to the Cobalt Soul, where perhaps they can teach her some discipline, all the while believing that it was her that failed him and not the other way around.

In some respect, no crueler fate could have been bestowed on Beau than to end up at the Cobalt Soul, and I’ll explain why. Beau at her core is a bright, energetic, curious person. If Beau had been given the actual choice to go to the Cobalt Soul of her own will on the onset of her teenage years she would have jumped at the chance. Learning and fighting and exploring are the sort of thing Young Beau would have loved. But she is forced to go, after being ostensibly disowned by her family, all the while knowing that to all her potential mentors, the label of Problem Child is dangling from her neck; she was not sent there as a budding mind to be fostered and cultivated, but as a problem to be solved.

She pays attention to her classes, but she can’t afford to show any enthusiasm, or else she’s admitting defeat; Beau always loses on her own term, and at this point she was very used to losing. The tension in her shoulders builds and builds as she contemplates how poorly all the monks must think of her, her behavior getting worse and worse just so she has some sort control over her life; she can’t help but be the chained up dog she is, but goddammit you’re going to know she’s there. That she can do. And finally the thrashing against the chain causes it to break, and she realizes she can leave, and so she bolts, and doesn’t stop running until she slams full speed into the Mighty Nein.

Beau is my favorite character for many reasons, but a big one is that she plays into the archetype of “Character Who Cares So Much But Can’t Afford To Show It”, only matched in my heart by “Character Who Can’t Even Begin To Hide How Much They Care”, ironically also played to by Marisha Ray in the form of Keyleth.

From the moment we meet her in the tavern with Jester and Fjord, it is clear upon reflection that she already cares so much. She stuck to those two like peanut butter on bread almost immediately, and it becomes very clear when you discover how afraid she was that they were going to leave her behind. For her entire life, all Beau wanted to be was acknowledged and accepted, to not be so goddamn alone all the time. And here was her chance to have that, and so she held on like her life depended on it. In some ways, it did.

I don’t think the tightness of her spiritual fists really loosened until Nicodranas. Before that the Doubt was always there that the rest of the Nein would come to grips with how much of a problem she really was and get rid of her, and who could blame them in her eyes; she was just someone who didn’t fit, and that was her fate. But they didn’t. As time went by they just seem to pull her closer. And then the Iron Shepards happened, and that’s when she knew for sure; she loved these people, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do for them.

And then... Mollymauk dies, and it forces Beau to reckon with the ugly bitterness she had allowed to consume her mind, and that she had more options than breaking. She could be a builder. She could build something good. With the Mighty Nein by her side, she could do anything, even be good. They arrive at that beach in Nicodranas, the grief of losing Molly easing on her heart, and for the first time in her entire life, she feels safe, lightness replacing her usual heaviness, her shoulders relieved of their usual tension, and finally she can, for a moment or two, go to that place in her mind the Monks always talked about.

But after a long period of security, her hands form that familiar shape again at the prospect of her worst fear coming to fruition; slowly losing the Nein. Nott was going to get her body back, and was possibly going to go back to her family. Which makes sense; it’s why she is here in the first place. But it reintroduces the idea that the family she’s built for herself could slowly come apart as each of its members finish their quest and find their place. But the Nein is Beau’s quest, it is her place.

Suddenly they’re back in Kamordah, and her old wounds seem to get torn back open all at once, and Beau loses her footing, spiritual eyes clenched, shoulders tight, and fists balled up, bracing herself for what surely had to follow. They meet the Hag, an awful creature who preys on misery, who was feeding on Nott, Beau’s chosen sister, and she wanted a deal to free her, to replace misery with misery. And things began to click into to place. This is what this was all building up to, wasn’t it? This is what it was all for. Molly was there to teach her that she could do good, and here was her chance. All it would cost is everything. Everything she never deserved. She was going to go back to losing on her terms, just as it should have always been.

One unexpected Cupcake later, and that idea of martyrdom is entirely thrown out the window. This is the part of the movie where the record scratches. This was not at all how things are supposed to go. Things were supposed to fall apart. And now the newly returned Veth has her doubts about putting the Adventurer’s Life behind her. And Cad’s family is saved and home restored and he’s decided to stick around anyway. WHAT IS GOING ON?!! Here Beau was matching the pairs in hand thinking she was playing Poker only to be playing Uno all along.

I have no idea where Beau’s head is right now, but she seems to be sliding back into the Beau we’re so proud of. I don’t know if this is just the calm before Marisha rips all of our hearts out, or if Beau has just decided to enjoy the Mighty Nein for what it is while she has it. But I know her knuckles have some color again, and for that I’m grateful.

[the-silentium]

Murphy day Pt.3

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 -  Part 4

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 2302 words. I know it’s short! But it needed to end there.

Warnings: None.

A/N: This chapter is not the end like I thought because something went terribly wrong somewhere and I ended up far away from my initial plan. So here it is, the best chapter ever to finish 2020.

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

You found solace in the fact that the rain wasn't as heavy as what you were used to. Instead of the torrential rain that barely allowed you to see a meter before you, the only handicap you had was the discomfort of your clothes sticking to your skin and to Wrecker's armor. With a smile, you thanked yourself for choosing a dark outfit despite the clear sky that greeted you early in the morning, your initial light blue shirt would have forced you to throw yourself in mud to save what you had left of dignity.

Speaking of dignity, you couldn’t stop chuckling along with Wrecker at the shining star guiding the group. Tech would sometimes turn around to glare at the both of you, but really, there was nothing he could do to save himself at this point. 

The dry phosphorescent poo mixed with puke he fell in earlier finally kicked in now that the sun was hidden behind the dark clouds, illuminating his armor like a mighty beacon leading your steps towards salvation. Most of the sticky mixture had washed off his armor by now, getting rid of what he couldn’t remove by himself, leaving the light parts of his armor stained in the phosphorescent color. 

“Don’t take it like that Techie! At least the smell is gone!” You laughed along with Wrecker. 

At the sound, Shiny fussed, jumping happily on his tiny legs until he bumped into Crosshair who crouched slightly to calm him with a pat on the head. Shiny walked near his favorite sniper, his green horns illuminating proudly his steps like a young star that somehow found its way down onto this nightmare of a planet. Watching the duo from your venture point behind them, you thought about how opposed those two were but strangely enough, seemed to be the most comfortable around each other. 

Well, maybe you would be returning home alone after all. 

If you made it home that is. 

“Are we close?” Hunter stopped walking to fall back at Wrecker’s side. 

Squinting your eyes to protect them from the rain, you adjusted your grip around Wrecker as you moved your head forward to get a better view of your position. 

“Almost there!” You reported cheerfully, your head falling back in its place on the hard pauldron, your forehead comfortably pressed at the base of the black helmet that protected Wrecker from the rain. 

“Enjoying yourself?” The gruff voice reached your ears again, although this time there was something new in his tone. You shrugged it off, passing the fault on the occasional water drop that fell in your ear.

“Can’t say I don’t.” You replied sheepishly, a smile stretching your lips despite your best efforts. 

It was nice to be treated like that for the very first time in your life. Not like a damsel in distress, you still wanted to smack him for that, but to be treated like you were important. Like someone cared. It was warming and comforting so you’d take it while it lasted. Plus, it allowed you to recharge your batteries for a bit as well as giving time for the muscles in your legs to relax and stop contracting painfully. 

“She likes me Sarge!" 

His arms tighten slightly around you as he bumped his brother playfully, your feet hitting armor in the movement. 

"It's nothing to be so happy about." You mumbled under your breath, low enough that the rain swallowed your words. 

"I don't see why." Hunter walked a bit faster so he had a visual on you, head tilted slightly to the side. 

"What?" You asked at the same time Wrecker did, who turned to you, a smile on his lips that you couldn't see under his painted helmet. 

A yelped from Tech at the front alerted you that he tripped. Again. 

"I don't see why he shouldn't be happy that you like him." He clarified. 

Your cheeks suddenly became very hot as your brain finally remembered that his hearing was far above average. To make it worse, Wrecker's visor was now solely fixed on your face and you were sure that he was analyzing the pink covering your cheeks.

Looking around for an escape, your eyes found the perfect getaway in the shape of an endless field of glowing purple flowers in the distance. 

"Look! We're here!" You blurted out with too much enthusiasm, unlatching your hands from behind Wrecker's neck and pushing yourself out of his arms so suddenly that he didn't have the time to adjust his grip. 

You hurried on your feet despite your aching knees who met the hard ground without warning, your desperation to escape the subject propelling you forward, passing Tech the glorious shining star and into the meadow towards the river where a grey ship was stationed on the opposite bank. 

" 'cause 'm far from a catch Sarge." You repeated the words you've heard so many times before, feet entering the cold water to get to the other side as soon as possible. There was no way he could've heard that one. Not over the rain, the current of the river, and a good couple of meters separating you. 

"What was that?" You yelped in surprise, Tech's eyes widening in turn following your outburst. He must have run after you. 

"Nothing." You breathed, a hand over your heart in an attempt to calm it down. 

"We should cross the river in tandem. We'll have less chance to get dragged by the current." He dropped the subject and offered you his hand after getting in the waist high water with you. 

"Good idea." You took his warm gloveless hand in yours, lacing your fingers with his for a better grip. 

You walked at the same pace, each of you using the other to balance yourself. Your feet slipped once under the strong force of the current, sending your heart into a frantic rhythm until your boots passed the small inch of slippery rocks and found a good grip into a bed of mud. Tech had stopped walking, his grip tightening around your fingers as much as you did around his in your panic. 

You nodded to tell him that you were ready to start again and he followed your lead. With small steps you made it to the other side safely, Tech got out of the water first and turned around to offer you a hand. Grateful, you let him pull you out of the mad stream.

"Thanks, Tech." You huffed on your knees, breathing deeply to force your heart to work faster, providing more blood flow through your body to fight against the cold of the water. 

You heard three splashes behind you, the remaining boys must have decided to follow Tech's idea and cross the current with each other. With a quick glance, you confirmed that they were indeed following the example, Shiny secured under Wrecker's arm. 

"You're welcome." He presented his hand again to help you up. 

Just as your hand lifted to his, a movement just behind him caught your attention, a hiss reached your ears, stopping your heart. 

Time slowed for a second, Tech's residual glow illuminating two elliptical pupils staring him down with a predatory glint and rows after rows of thin razor sharp teeth and terrifyingly long fangs creeping their way over his head. 

You saw Tech's head turning to see what caused the sound, his other hand flying to his holster, but you were faster. Your heart started beating again, pumping blood like never before, your hand shot out to close around Tech's outstretched one and with a sharp pull, you made him dive into you, away from the deadly clasping maws. 

"Get up! Get up!" You stressed as the remaining Batchers yelled to know what was wrong.  

Ignoring them for the most urgent matter, you pushed him off hurriedly all the while keeping a firm grip on his hand, turned around, and pulled him after you in the opposed direction. 

You turned your head to see if the beast was following and sure enough, the draconic head of the Basilisk was gaining ground, its powerful body waving rapidly on the wet grass. Its dark scales made him hard to discern under the clouded sky, although his eyes and his three-forked tail made a stark contrast. 

"Don't stop running Tech!" You yelled, praying that he wouldn't trip like he did all the way here. 

"Don't worry!" 

The ground shook under your feet, both your heads snapping back at the impact. The basilisk disappeared underground, digging a hole with its strong and heavy body, using the thick spikes covering the whole length of its body to dig and move around away from its preys' eyes. 

"It went underground!" Tech panicked. "This thing can go underground!" 

"We have to get off the ground! Now!" You yelled over the rain. 

The ship was now forgotten, too far behind to even hope of getting there in time. You had two options, climbing the Waytree which you were sure Tech couldn't possibly climb in his armor or get up the rock promontory. 

The ground rumbled beneath your feet, telltale of the Basilisk getting closer. 

"Up there!" You pointed to the top of the inclined rock overlooking the meadow. 

At this point, Tech took the lead, running faster than you, pulling you with him in his wake to get to safety. The unusual speed along with the wet grass slipping underneath your boots almost made you trip more than once. 

"Tech, are you two okay?" Hunter's voice barely resonated out of the clones flashing wrist armor piece. His voice managed to calm you to some point for some unknown reason. Maybe it was because he saved you from hungry teeth before. "Tech!" 

"Fine for now." He answered in a slightly higher tone than usual. "Not for long." 

"Hang on." The line cut and you found out that it panicked you more. 

The shaking intensified to a point where you thought for the second time that day that you were done. Your heartbeat resonated in your head, the sound of the rain filled your ears, the splatter of the water hitting your skin made you numb and the vibration beneath your feet put you on edge. 

With a scream on the verge of your lips, you finally made it to the promontory, Tech pulling behind him until you reached the very end of the rock. 

A crash erupted behind you, the Basilisk erupting from under ground where the soft ground let place to something way too hard for it to continue digging. 

You saw the brille protecting its eyes retract as its maw opened in a warning hiss, slowly creeping its way towards you. A quick glance behind showed a nothingness that scared you to the bone. Either you jumped into the abyss and broke a lot of bone at your landing four stairs below or you could get chewed and digested by a gigantic snake. 

Tech grabbed his blaster, aiming at the approaching beast, the hand still gripping you tightening in fear. 

Before he could fire, the Basilisk screeched in pain as a blaster bolt hit him right in the eye. The sudden sound made the both of you jump, Tech's shoulder bumping you enough for you to lose your balance.  

"Tech!" You yelped, pulling onto him to regain footing. 

The Basilisk continued its ascension of the rock, crawling its way towards its prizes. Blaster bolts rained onto its side, infuriating the creature. Turning around in a hiss, the Basilisk changed its target, choosing to hunt the remaining clones instead. As it roamed away, the forked tail hit the promontory aggressively, the resulting shockwave projecting you right on your stomach to the ground, your top half dangling over the edge, hand still trapped between the engineer's who had lost its footing and fell off your perch. 

Luckily, your left foot caught into a fissure, keeping you anchored. 

"Don't let go!" He pleaded, panic lacing his voice. 

"Never." You gritted your teeth, locking your bones in position. 

With a colossal effort, you forced your boot down deeper into the crack while trying to pull Tech back up with your body half over the edge. 

Rain traveled down your face, dripping onto Tech's glasses that you now noticed had a flashing red light on their sides. Wet strands blocked your peripheral view, allowing you to concentrate solely on your task of saving your newly acquired friend and forget the other three fighting a gigantic carnivorous snake without any knowledge on its species. 

A sudden bright light illuminated Tech's eyes, the raw fear in them screaming at you to not drop him gave you a boost of strength. Ignoring the burning of your muscles, you forced your arms to pull harder, to push your limit and pull him up. 

Your grip on him was slipping, his wet deadweight too much for your small fingers. Surely, if you both survived this, your fingers would be sore and bruised. 

Slowly, inch by inch, you managed to pull him back on the rock, your arms shaking under the effort and groans falling from your lips. Tech managed to grip onto a crevice of his own, helping you in your critical task. He almost had his elbows secured on the rock, prompting you to put all your remaining strength behind this one last pull. 

The second his elbows touched the rock, your foot slipped and you immediately let go of his hand to not drag him down with you. 

It was disappointing to finally know that no, your life doesn't flash before your eyes moments before you die. You'd have loved to see your dad one last time before… well. 

Screams pierced your ears right before darkness engulfed you in a sickening crack.

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

Richie working as a waiter and accidentally spilling a customer's drink all over the table and guess who that customer is?

Your prompt my love! 

Read on AO3

* * * * * 

Richie loved his job as a waiter. He got to spend time talking and socialising with a lot of new people, which was his speciality, and because of this he ended up with a lot of tips. Sure, some days were better than others and he’s had to deal with his fair share of ‘nasty’ customers but usually Richie just rolled his eyes when they came in. 

Today was the day all of that changed though. Now, Richie didn’t just love his job, he was good at it too. He took great pride in being able to carry a table of fours meals out to them at the same time and he loved making the kids smile when he brought their drinks out on his head. 

He had never once dropped or smashed a glass. Never in his entire career of being a waiter. 

Until today. 

Today, he was graced with a table of three. An older woman who was seriously overweight he’d be surprised she could even fit in their booths, a younger lady who looked like she bleached her asshole, and the most gorgeous human being Richie had ever laid his eyes on. 

The boy that was with the group looked to be about his age, and his expression was screaming ‘get me out of here’. As Richie was in charge of the table, he put on his best customer service smile and walked over, pad in hand to take their drinks order. Before he even got a word out, the younger lady turned her head to him, her eyes narrow. 

“Finally, god, how difficult is it to get a little bit of service here. It’s not like you’re busy!” She rolled her eyes and the boy’s cheeks turned a dark red.

“Myra!” He hissed, shaking his head. “We’ve only just sat down, what kind of service do you expect?” He looked up at Richie and Richie felt his soul drift out of his body. The boy’s eyes were a dark brown and he was downright stunning. “I’m so sorry.”

The girl, Myra, scoffed. “I was at a steakhouse with daddy last night and they brought us drinks the second we walked through the door. That is the sort of service that I expect, Eddie.”

Eddie.

It was then that the older woman caught his attention, by snapping her fat grubby fingers in Richie’s face. “Excuse me, I would like a white chardonnay,” she practically growled out and Richie felt himself die a little inside, as they didn’t actually offer white chardonnay at their branch. 

“I’m so sorry ma’am,” he cleared his throat and smiled. Richie had dealt with these issues before, he could deal with one more. “We don’t offer that here, but I can bring you a white wine if that suits.”

The woman scoffed, “If I wanted white wine I would have-”

“White wine will be fine,” Eddie cut the woman off. “I’ll have a water and Myra will have the same as my mother. I’m so sorry again about their rude behaviour.”

Richie shook his head, “It’s alright, honestly.” He took that moment to pass out the menus he held under his arm and as he passed the final one to Eddie, their fingers brushed. Instantly, both of their cheeks turned red, and thankfully neither of the women at the table noticed. “I’ll be right back with your drinks and to take your orders.”

As he walked away, he could hear the arguing from the table, the women calling Eddie out for being too nice to the staff when their job is to please the customer. Richie had to smile as Eddie defended them, explaining that restaurant staff were humans too, and they should be treated as such. 

Behind the bar, his waitressing buddy Bev gave him a look and walked over, “What was all that about? They seem pretty high and mighty for your standard restaurant, no?”

Richie nodded in agreement and started mixing their drinks. He thought about making Eddie something on the house for being so nice, but he really didn’t want to be called out for it. After all, for all he knew that girl with him was his girlfriend. “Yeah, tell me about it. The guys cute though. Like…really cute.”

“Ohhhh, does Richie have a crush on a customer?” Bev nudged him and giggled as Richie rolled his eyes and picked up the drinks in his usual fashion. 

He stuck his tongue out at her and made his way back over to the table, where the three of them were arguing over the menu options. Myra looked up suddenly and her eyes widened as he got closer to the table. Just as he reached them, and was about to place the drinks on the table, she let out a scream, taking him by surprise. 

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The glass he was about to sit down on the table slipped from his grip and toppled to the ground and as he leaned forward in an attempt to grab it, the other one tipped forward, the contents spilling all over Eddie’s lap.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Myra screamed. “What the hell were you thinking, bringing all those out like that! Of course they were going to spill! Oh Eddie, your nice pants are all ruined!”

“I am so sorry!” Richie stammered out, grabbing a few paper towels and trying to help him clean up to the best that he could.

Eddie shook his head, “It’s fine, honestly, Myra shouldn’t have screamed. You know what you’re doing and she made you lose your focus.” He looked up and gave Richie a smile. “Really, it’s fine. I didn’t really like these pants anyway.”

The two ladies burst into yells of horror as Eddie said that and he gave Richie a look at screamed ‘run, get out of here.’. Richie saluted him and rushed back behind the bar, fully intending to make the table fresh drinks. Bev was staring at him with wide eyes and he shook his head, begging her not to comment on the matter. 

He sat the fresh drinks on a tray this time and carried them out to the table, but as he approached, he realised they were packing up. The older woman, Eddie’s mother, glared at him. “This establishment is shocking and you should be fired. I hope you know we’re putting in a complaint to management.”

Eddie opened his mouth to say something, probably to apologise, but before he could Myra wrapped her hand around his wrist in an iron grip and tugged him away. “You’ve said enough, Edward! We’re leaving.”

Richie could only watch as Eddie was dragged out and the door to the restaurant slammed closed. A feeling of disappointment filled up in him and he moved to start clearing up the table. For some reason, the thought of never seeing Eddie again was more devastating that the possibility of losing his job over a bad customer complaint. 

Well, fuck.

* * * * *

@richietoaster @tozier-boy @eds-trashmouth   @fucking-reddie @strange-reddie-loser @eds-kas @propertyofthelosersclub @its-stranger-than-you-think @yes-dillman-yes @totaltozier @reddietofall @reddietofight @reddie-to-fight   @reddie-eddie-spaghettie @bitchbrak @reddieways @maximusfraker @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @thejadeazalea @reddie-eddie-spaghetti @halfway-happy353 @ellomello16 @liliemm @tinyarmedtrex @cacti-cool @inthebreadbinwrites @kat-ships-everything @takeourpure @lo-v-ers @mrs-vh @studpuffin @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything  @trashmouthtozierr @richietoizer   @girasol-eddie @bi-bi-richie @honeybeehanlon @mars-14 @reddiesetandgo @marsisaplanetyall @xandertheundead @sedanleystanley @hawkinsbabe @beepbeeprichiellc @stellarbisexual @oldguybones @ripeddiekaspbrak @captainbartholomew @purplepoisonedgem @reddie-to-cryy @pink-psychic @violetreddie @fuzzylogik @queen-sock @appojoos  @moonlightrichie @rreddies @disneyfan567 @annxmatron @lifesucksheres20bucks @anellope @roobarrtrashmouth @are-you-reddie-for-it

[fuse2dx]

November ‘20

Cross Code

Cross Code is a game that is trying so very, very hard. The story is based around your character being an avatar within an MMORPG, and its this kind of game-within-a-game setup that is used as a cheeky way to skirt the fourth wall and have its characters make snide remarks at certain design decisions, while also going full steam ahead with them regardless of the fact. Don’t think we didn’t notice, dev team! It plays out as a 2D top-down action RPG, but clearly has aspirations that extend far beyond this framework. Each of its environments is thoroughly layered with subtle verticality, with parkour-esque platforming having you constantly working backwards from your intended destination, and requiring meticulous attention to detail in order to find where it is you’re able to begin your elaborate series of jumps from. There’s a huge array of materials to gather and channel through traders and to craft into gear, and the combat they benefit is both precise and complex, requiring plenty of on-the-fly thinking as well as tight execution. As well as these set-piece battles, the game’s dungeons are full of puzzles that though smart in construction, are tough enough in isolation, and frankly brutal in their relentless frequency. One particularly ill-advised chapter has a series of three such dungeons in quick succession, and perfectly illustrates that just because you can, does not mean that you should. 

On a more positive note, one thing the game does have in spades is charm. The sprite work is admirable; even though characters are a touch on the tiny side to be too effective on their own, their portraits and dialogue provide a solid emotive connection to them and the story that builds up around them. In all, it is a game that can be a lot of fun, and plenty rewarding - but the entire thing is overly long and far too regularly punishing. It’s tapped into a number of 16-bit action-RPG ideas well, but has perhaps unintentionally also managed to become the most masochistic presentation of these ideas to date.

Crimzon Clover: World Explosion

A game I’ve technically owned for years now, however the lack of a Windows PC has held me back from playing it - with this debut on the Switch finally granting me the opportunity though to get hands on. Although I’d gleaned plenty from watching super players decimate it before now, even my feeble credit feeding through the game’s five stages has given me plenty of additional appreciation for just how good it is. 

It looks brilliant, with chunky, detailed enemies animated beautifully as they move about the screen. The music pounds along to an energetic beat, and the game keeps a solid pace all while plenty of bullets swarm around you in creative and considered patterns. Turning the tides with Break Mode is an incredibly satisfying way to take control of hairier moments, and while I can’t speak for every intricacy of its scoring system, I know that it’s developed by a team that demonstrably understands the value of these. What I can more reliably add to that discussion is that you’re unlikely to find yourself reliant on any one hook to find your fun though; even the most pedestrian appreciator of the genre should find plenty to enjoy. Thoroughly deserving of its regular appearance alongside the biggest names in the genre.

Holovista

There’s often a reasonable amount of scepticism that comes from some folks when you talk of gaming on a mobile phone. Flipping the conversation though, and instead to talk of one of my favourite advantages of the format, it’s great that a developer can lean on the familiarity and the personal connection that you have to the device you’re playing on. As a device that lives by your side 24/7 and increasingly encroaches further into every aspect of your being, Holovista leverages this connection amazingly, spinning its story in a series of interfaces that mimic how your phone acts when you use it yourself. Taking pictures and interacting with people in particular are key interfaces, and that are done in a way that neatly puts you right into the shoes of their character. 

It begins with said character taking an interview for a new job that is hoped to herald a new tide of good fortune, and promptly introduces the circle of friends that are there to help with this and that celebrate alongside. As you learn more about the job, things slowly begin to get a bit weird, and then take a turn that is something akin to Black Mirror meets nightmarish introspection. Though not overtly unpleasant, there are some memorably unsettling moments along the way. Sensibly, it does have content warnings that offer some sound advice for those it might not sit so well with, but self-care does end up being a central takeaway from the game as a whole as well as for its cast. On the back of circumstances we’ll generically chalk up to this year’s being what it is, this ended up feeling like a lovely little palate cleanser -  a considered refresh, thoroughly original, and a very worthy afternoon’s entertainment. 

The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening

One thing that’s always been great about Link’s Awakening came as a result of the technical limitations imposed by the Gameboy - that the Zelda format needed all the fat trimmed, while the mixture of puzzles and action were to be distilled down into their most potent and compact form. Even with the (entirely optional) extras they’ve slipped in with this remake, this still shines through in its design now, where it couldn’t be any further removed from the risks of overly long, dragged out pacing. A small overworld it may be, but it’s full of variety, secrets, and memorable moments. Dungeons are similarly economical with its good ideas - giving you new tools, laying out smart ways to break you into their use, and then letting you get on with things. 

While the remastered music is also utterly charming, the real upsell here is the total visual do-over; its tilt-shifted cartoon aesthetic pushing each and every scene to look like a shiny, hyper-cute diorama. For all of the different visual styles that the series has dabbled with in the past, this one definitely feels like the right match for the light-hearted whimsy that comes through from the story and the characters. That’s not to say that it’s flawless either - the blurring at the screen’s edges can be overly intense at times, and the overall presentation does cause the performance to stutter and feel a little sluggish at times. I point at these things only given the bar is raised so - something unavoidable when you already know a game is a stone-cold classic from the off. 

Astro’s Playroom

Coming pre-installed on your shiny new (and hopefully not scalped) Playstation 5 console, Playroom begins as a humble introduction to the capabilities of the Dual Sense controller. Touch control, haptic feedback, adaptive triggers and the like are introduced and may well generate some cooing and low-key positivity, however this enthusiasm is elevated by a mighty factor when the game truly begins and everything is put so deftly into practice.

It’s not a complex or particularly challenging title as far as 3D platformers go, with frequent checkpoints and no life counter in sight. Any mould-breaking to be done comes instead from the diversity in how you control various sideshows, with the entire kitchen sink’s worth of interface options being showcased as you climb into a monkey suit, blast off a rocket ship, bounce around as a pinball, and so on. All of these demonstrate ingenuity that could’ve easily gone awry, yet are quickly understood, and grounded in a level of both tactile and in-game feedback that maintains a natural feeling. The game’s worlds serve as virtual tours through colourful, fantasy depictions of hardware components that demonstrates an excellent level of both pride and playfulness, with fellow bots littering both the through-fare and the unbeaten paths, dressed up and enacting smart homage to generations of games and their characters, all while Playstation-themed collectables are doled out in tandem alongside smart, well-natured puns. It arguably borders on propaganda at times, such is the intense positivity. That said, the more extensive your tenure is with Sony’s platforms, the more likely it’ll dull your better judgement to this, instead letting slip a grin at what is essentially the grandest love letter to all things Playstation, and the warmest, most celebratory pack-in for a new console Sony could have ever hoped for. 

The showcasing of new features and hardware aside, it’s also a subtle and unofficial coronation of Astrobot as Sony’s newest (and best) mascot. There’s been plenty of candidates in the past who’ve half-heartedly assumed to own the position, but it’s the silent, cheerful charm which makes Astro that much more of an endearing figurehead. G'wan the little guy.

No More Heroes 2: Desperate Struggle

For someone that loves Suda51 and adored No More Heroes, my reaction to No More Heroes 2 on its original release was comparatively tepid. With a third game due next year, this re-release felt like the right time to revisit it and see it through, and although I found some things to enjoy, I certainly found plenty to remind me why I had bounced off it previously.

Roaming about in Santa Destroy between missions is gone, instead replaced with a short check list of destinations. While not a fan of the change myself, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing - though it does give a misleading impression of tightened focus that is very quickly lost as it lays out a spread of half-baked, and frankly clumsy mini-games. As well as being your prime source for money and upgrades, these do a lot to artificially increase the length of the game, and put simply, they’re just not fun enough to warrant this level of prominence. Even the main story has frequent moments where it veers away from the core 3D hack and slash gameplay, and again, these do more harm than good to the game’s flow.

The fighting underpinning it all has undoubtably been done better since by any number of titles, and though imperfect, it is still serviceable and enjoyable for the most part. Boss battles definitely hold the lion’s share of the game’s highlights, but there’s a few that also stick out with some poorly executed designs that tars its lasting impression. Shades do remain of the ridiculous, irreverent charm of the first game, although they are certainly more infrequent, and a more modern lens also brings into question just how sincerely we should take the sending up of Travis, when cast upon a backdrop of frequent fanservice. Not the best sequel then, but let’s hope 3 gets things back on track.  

[datarevived]

   -- Ⅴ : ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴄᴀʏᴅᴇ

” – We do not ask that all Guardians fight. That is a choice for them to make their selves, and in doing so, your decision to make, as well. We cannot ask you to risk life after life, fighting for something you do not believe in. But if I might be able to give one simple request -- think it over, Guardian. 

There is none to stop you. Nor will we see you as any less.“

. . .

" I don't want to talk about it right now. "

Like a blanket did uneasiness wrap around her being, snug and tight as words played back in rhythm to her mind. A gnawing ache, something that didn't feel the same way they were spoken, that there was something between the lines she was missing and gods for it, she didn't have the patience nor energy to try. 

Part of her wanted to dismiss it all, that it was just revival jitters - revival jitters? is that what she's calling it? already poorly accepting the idea after several days that she had indeed died, and was brought back, all in the span of a blinking light that followed her every move. That no one in their right mind would be comfortable with something so jarring, that it was natural to be afraid and paranoid of what was to come. Not everyone would jump into a war so willingly, not unless they were truly involved or hampered. Right?

Or was this just her failure attempt to turn a blind eye, a deafen ear to the remains of what had been this planet. This species, he had called it. If so much was at the brink of destruction... why bother coating it in sugar-filled lies that it was an option, that it was a choice, that there fell no consequence to those who refused or did not understand enough to lay themselves proper to the cause? 

Nothing came without bargain. Nothing came without consequence. So why?

A memorizing mess of critical thinking and auto-pilot motive, not even conscious to where her feet had led her next after leaving the Commander out in his perch. No, she just wanted to go away - to breathe fresh air, one that wasn't taint by some means of authority that wanted to treat her idle. That perhaps, indefinitely, that coming to the City would be a mistake, and that she'd feel more comfortable being back in the hole she died in. 

Hah. 

To die and stay dead, that was what their species had meant to do, and yet some foreign object decides to tell them otherwise. An entity these people seemingly knew little about, and yet trusted it so much with everything in their being. It was an absolutely terrifying thought - to put everything into the unknown. Or was it that she was just so closed out in accepting something naturally common - that all of this, was how the world worked. That it was she, who wasn't making sense and making a mess of things. 

     Clarity, where are  you?

Disgruntled features lured to the sounds of panned metal and tools, it is a subconscious effort to silence her own mind. Through several stairwells and open guard rails to the sky, lights sparking upon ships and carriers that failed to detail in her peripheral. The Awoken had come across the Hanger -- a place still untraveled as feet carry her between poles and support, looking for any reason to procrastinate her mind. A blur of people, each without distinct features as she felt her head dizzy, just continue walking forward, you're bound to get somewhere. Anywhere far from the pull of the Light, unwillingly to accept that it walked each step with her, always there -- always fleeting.

" Hey -- Hey! You!     Aye, watch it, you're gonna -- ! "

It's a slice of air that grazes her face that brings her back to the present, doe-eyed features blinking betwixt mechanical pieces that flew inches from her face. Her breath, stalled beneath her throat as a step is taken back instinctively, putting space between she and the injured ship as tools rocked back and forth, pushing out dents and rubbing out scars of war. Had she taken a step too forward, it would have been off with her head -- another mess completely, to add to the list of damages and cosmetics to whomever was waiting their repairs.

Where... was she, again?

" Whoah we geez, louise! What are ya, deaf? You nearly got yourself ping-ponged across the room! "

That voice again - attention turned in favor to its' keeper, a cloaked Exo with narrowing blue optics and face plates to match. Yet compared to Bex and few others she had run into thus far, admittedly far detailed in its' face and expression, a light orange hue igniting in the back of its' throat as it panted in sprint towards her being. 

" I'm all for you guys playin' your games and dares, but, can ya keep it outta the work space? Please? Amanda's done bickered me to death about leaving tools and Hunters around, getting in the way and all -- speaking of which, you're missing your cloak, hurt my feelings a bit but I'll forgive you just this once -- " it blinks, male tone scraping each syllable as it examined Selene head to toe, " --You, are a Hunter, right? Or did Ikora send you? Did she send you? Man, she really doesn't believe in my work ethnic, does she? I told her, I'm stayin here for at least a day - theeen maybe a little road trip, nothin too detailed, but I mean if you want work done, gotta do it yourself, you know? "

" I..- ? "

It was a desperate attempt to keep up with the man at this point, nerves suddenly overtaking the body once more as she gripped tightly at the shirts' end of stomach, unable to keep her eyes still and her breathing paced. Who was this guy? And why did he talk so... much?

" I don't... I-Ikora didn't send me, I - "

" Oh? She didn't? Good, good... wait -- but you're Awoken. Did Mara send you? Is she back? Is she here, on Earth, right now? "

" I -- who?? "

A blink -- servo optics taking a moment before squinting back at her. The Exo raises a hand before speaking again, index finger pointed in her general direction as he began to play out the riddle he'd wrap himself about.

" You're... joking? Right? ... Not, joking? Not joking. That's -- unfortunate. "

" I don't... understand what you're talking about... "

" Then we're at least on the same page, " he gives a half single nod, voice having picked up some, as if impressed. " Okay, okay. You... Ikora didn't send you. Mara didn't send you. Look too... nah, Zavala woulda sent someone bigger. Meaner, too. So that would make you... new? " an uncertainty upon last word, he tilts his head in favor of hearing her out. Like a child, waiting for approval to something truly magnificent.

" I'm... I.. guess? " Selene speaks, brows furrowing up and down in perplexed confusion, shrugging shoulders as she did so but not a finger lifted from the fabric that kept her steady. " I just got to the Tower a few days ago, and I've... talked? to Ikora? and Zav..la? B-But I'm... I don't.. "

"  Wait, wait. Hold on, " the Exo interrupts, realigning his posture and waving his hands in front of himself. " You've already talked to Ikora AND Zavala? And you're new? And we're JUST now meeting? Am I getting this right? "

" Uh... "

" Which means, out of all the important people you've met so far - what about the bird lady? "

" Hawthorne? "

" Weapons? "

" Uh... Ban... Banshee? "

" Old man who never shuts up? "

" He.. he's near Banshee?? "

" Crucible!? "

" The ... man who... yells a lot...? "

" And we're JUST now getting to me? I'm last?! Oh, come on -- " the Exo spirals, flinging his arms in the air as if distressed. Never mind the hurt that sounded in his voice over the matter, as if things had been terribly out of order. " I'm the best one here! And they, none of them -- neither of them mentioned me? Cayde? The Hunter Vanguard? The Golden Gun? The big head honcho himself? "

" Isn't... I thought, Zavala was -- "

" Yeah, yeah, sure, " the Exo waves his hands again, quickly dismissing the clarification. " Big Blue, Command, whatever - but me? I'm the cool guy. I'm the one everyone wants to meet. I'm the voice of reason here! "

That was... saying a lot.

" Ikora mentioned there was three Vanguard... " Selene tries to speak again, this time, parting her sentences in case there was more to be said from the other. " You... You said your name is Cayde, right? So you're the third... the Hunter? "

" Awh, come on. When you say it like that, it's like I'm bottom barrel here. But yes, the names' Cayde, Cayde-6 if you wanna get technical, but not aimin any higher than that. Hunter Vanguard, at your service, " he gives a slight bow, rolling a wrist at his chest while other extends outward.  " And you would be? "

Another chilling clump of empty drops in her stomach at the question, causing only for her knuckles to white as she tugs gently at the ends of her shirt. What point to exchange names, if she was just going to turn into another blur of faces that would come one after the other...

" ...M' Selene. "

" Selene? That's a pretty name. Pretty name for a ... well, I'm sure you got a pretty face when its' not all pensive like that, " the Vanguard comments, tilting his head as he spoke. " How long you been here Selene? Gotta be a few days if Zavala's rubbin' off on ya already. He convince ya into runnin through as a Titan yet? 'Cuz I'm always open to new recruits. Trainings' easy, bounties are subpar, first capes' free and mighty delicate if I do say so myself. Not to mention, we Hunters are the better blend of talent and style when compared to the rest. -- Just, don't tell Ikora I said that. "

" I'm.. n-no. I haven't.. I don't actually.. " 

So much talking. It was impossible to catch every word, every question -- it was so loud. 

Brows pinching upon forehead at the thought, at this point her cheeks began to swell at how clamped her teeth were on the subject. Throat dry from lack of air and breath, her chest felt shallow and her stomach a black pit. Her legs felt heavier than stone, her feet glued to the ground and shoulders so far raised that she'd hardly notice the muscle ache in time.

" ...You ok, kid? "

Had she taken too long to answer?

" Hey. Let's uh... let's wait on all that. Sound good? Lets' get somewhere less crowded. "

Less crowded...? Yeah. That sounded good.

A shaken nod given in response, and she's following the Hunter elsewhere without any further exchange. Focusing on the back of his cloak as they moved, the single red streak upon a tattered brown is what allows her to collect her thoughts as they walked. Forging better words to use for when they were at given destination, that perhaps this time, she'd be able to speak proper and answer quickly instead of acting like some sort of ran over rodent. Little thought to the rips and tears of ones' attire... the fabric itself, speaking louder than any speech the other two Vanguard could have made to convince her the state of denial.

The man before her had fought. And it showed.

Several paces more before he's turning on a heel and causing her to stutter-step her brakes, the Exo looking between she and a door in the distance. As if hesitant on whether to turn back, or continue. Selene remains ever blank in her expression, unsure of how to necessarily respond upon action.

" Here, uhhh... stay right there for a minute, would ya? " Cayde motions, rounding his hands in two finger guns as he addresses his newly found company. " Gotta, lemme... I'll be right back. "

With a hop in his step, the Hunter approaches the door with a swing, the sound of shuffling belongings and metal scraping bleeding into the background of already working mechanics. There's noises that didn't seem too out the ordinary, and then there is the brief shatter of broken glass that comes from the room, followed by inaudible self-talking and sounds of what could only be described as a broom. Selene tilting her head briefly in curiosity -- whether she should check to see if the Vanguard was okay, or if he needed help... --

" Okay! "

Apparently not.

Sliding his hands together as if job well done, the Exo walks out of the room but remains close to its' door. A motion movement for the other to follow, and the Awoken is once more following without inquiring further. The room that had been disoriented, something make-shift of a small cubical office, almost, with several boxes stacked to the ceiling and a fallen over filing cabinet that seemed way out of date. Little shimmers of glass residual still on the floor, nothing that would hamper past her boots but all the same. A snug fit with the desk that had been shoved into place, but it seemed just a little bit quieter than the outside.

" Don't uh... Don't mind the mess. S'uh... storage. Not really much of an office guy. "

He speaks, but it doesn't register to her until after she's in the room and sitting upon the desk to relieve the weight of her legs. Her chest still ultimately heavy, she prioritizes the need to calm down before looking up and over at the other, still remaining against the open door way with arms crossed at his chest. His own attention darting between she and the commotion outside throughout the Hanger.

" ...Th-Thank you, by the way. "

Her voice provokes the attention of the Hunter for a moment, unresponsive aside from a gentle stare back through glowing vision that was shared among all Exo units. As if kept in thought, before giving a nod, turning his head back to the Hanger but his voice still reflecting back into the room.

" Don't worry 'bout it, " his voice carries an accent, but she can't tell in what narrative. Only that its' mildly comforting... as if talking to just another human being. No Light or titles, here. " It's a mess, but, can use this room whenever you need it. Stays unlocked, don't really use it for m'self... too many places to be to sit around. But uh... whenever you wanna talk, " he offers, again rolling one wrist out of the tuck of his chest as he motioned, " Jus' lemme know. When you're ready, that is. No rush -- can leave ya be, if it helps. "

" N-No... that's okay, " she quickly denies the idea of being alone, shaking her head at the thought. Chest ever lighter by the minute, the sounds of repairs dull out and for the first time since leaving the courtyard, she can hear herself speak. " I think I'm okay to talk now... to uh... answer questions again. "

" You sure? "

" Yeah... I'm sure. "

A temporary silence, followed by exhaled huff, Cayde pries himself off the frame of the door while unfolding arms to his sides. Walking over to where several boxes stacked, he pulls out a fold-able chair, a dented, rusted mess but still to do the job. With a heavy flick of the wrist, it folds out and stomps against the metal flooring, flakes of decay and time cracking upon the weight as he sat, legs cocked over as he sat stomach-side against the back of the chair, arms folded upon its' height. His rebellious nature already ringing like a golden light in a pit of dark, receiving a risen brow from the Awoken whom refused to discuss concern with words.

" Lets start over. Th' names Cayde. I'm the Hunter Vanguard here, not really by choice - but, y'know, previous Vanguard decided to croak and we had this dare, and, one thing led to another -- so I'm here now. Zavala's prized treasure, whether he wants to be the bigger man and admit it or not. "

The later comment resulting in a stiffed chuckle from Selene -- she processes his words easier now to detail. Mulling between the man known as Cayde and his relationship with the rest of the Vanguard, between his own words and that of context clues generated from the rest. She begins to see why Hawthorne had left his title... open.

" Selene... I uh... woke up in a sink hole... and was found by a group of others who brought me here. "

" A sink hole? Nice, nice. Well, at least the initial fall didn't bang ya up too bad. You're lookin' good! "

" Th-Thanks... I think...? " her head tilts, though lips curve upward into a half-smile, biting back another chuckle. " I don't... really know how all this works still. Aside from what a few others have told me... and what my Ghost has told me. "

" So you do have a Ghost! Where is the lil' guy? Girl? Some of them have a preference -- like mine has this preference that I stop doing certain things. That I will certainly not stop doing. "

" It's... uh... he? I don't... really know... " Selene attempts to comprehend, the habit of ones' company still something she wasn't entirely certain on whether it was consistently around or if it held other matters on its' own. " It just... shows up sometimes. "

" -- Really, all you need to do is ask, " comes the familiar tone, a flash of light illuminating the office as if on queue. The glimmering white of its' shell rattling as optic scans their surroundings. " Ah, you found someone else? "

" Aw, aren't you cute, " Cayde greets, " Got yourself a sassy one there. That'll make things fun. "

" I'm... what? " the Ghost tilted, the back of its' shell whirling in brief puzzlement.

" Nah, nothin. Don’t worry about it, " the Exo dismisses, flinging a hand. " I'm sure you guys'll get along great. Perfect match for one another. Just gotta work out the speed bumps. "

" You have one too, right? " Selene perks, attention held upon the Ghost as it hovered around her space. The question bringing to light a secondary Ghost in the room - this one carrying red and gold accents upon pallid shell. Gears rotating as it floated next to the sitting Vanguard, quietly.

" Sure do! Names' Sundance. She's a bit picky about who she talks around though. No hard feelins. "

As quickly as she had appeared, the Ghost then dismissing herself back into the pocket space. Selene's own ghost deciding to stick around for the time being, the Awokens' attention placed back upon the Hunter across from her. 

" How long have you two... been, y'know... "

The question rests upon her tongue, but is quickly deciphered by the Exo as his head tilts side to side at the thought. Searching for the proper way to say a long time, without it being vague enough... being apart of first generation Risen was... man, when was his birthday again?

" Sundance and I? We go way back. Before everything uh... well. I guess it'd be during, given that I did make it out alive... ugh. Such miserable place. But uh -- yeah! We go waaay back. Long time to tell. Ran outta birthdays once you go pass a hundred. "

" You're over a hundred years old? " Selene squints, almost as if not believing him at first.

" You think I'm old? Hah! Man... You should meet some of Saladin's friends. They're ancient. Dinosaurs, really. "

" I... I mean... I'd ask how, but... "

" Right? Amazing what kinda life goals you can finish when you don't have deadline anymore. Only con' about it is ya gotta make new goals. Me? Gave up already. Just take one day at a time. " 

" That's... crazy, " she shakes her head, processing but not open to the idea at first. A falsehood of immortality, resting upon her fingertips at the generosity of the machine that sat next to her. Foreboding, really.

" It's not all that bad. Just takes some time getting use to! Trust me, still throws me in a loop some days. Dependin' how hard I hit my head, ya know? "

" Makes sense, I guess. "

" Most of the time, " Cayde corrects, " Sometimes it makes no sense at all, and that's where I leave it to Ashir Mir. Complete nutcase, don't recommend getting caught up in his little Vex-obsession. You'll never hear the end of it. "

" I'll keep that in mind, " Selene chuckles, nodding. Though she's unfamiliar with the name just yet -- it seems there's a handful of people to better keep an eye on. " The uhm... Vanguard. How does it.. work? "

" Eh? "

" You asked me if I spoke with Zavala about being a Titan... and, Hawthorne's mentioned Warlocks, and Hunters... and how to harness Light into power, and it's just one big... mess of information to me. I don't think I understand how it works, " she admits.

" Oooh. That stuff. It's like uh... like ones' true calling. Titan's calling is... beating things up in a vicious matter, " he clamps a fist against open hand, emphasizing their might, " Warlocks are mooore... concerned? Careful people -- too careful, just, never get anything done, " another roll of wrist to continue moving in the conversation -- " But Hunters? We get things done and look good doing it. And if I know a Hunter when I see one -- you? " he then points, leaning forward against the back of the chair with a childish glint in the optics, " Ten outta ten, you'd wear a cape like a champ. "

" Is this another one of those recruitment ads? " the Ghost chimes in.

" Recruitment? What, like this is some sorta army or somethin'? " Cayde replies back, tone lingering on the offensive. " I know a Hunter when I see one. And your pick of the litter? She'd do great. Maybe even best me one day! Then she'd be the Vanguard and I get my adventures back without Zavala breathing down my back! "

" I don't... I think we're getting too far ahead -- " Selene tries to intercept, a notation of moving back a smudge against the desk as head bobs side to side as if looking for an exit strategy. The mere act provoking a chuckle out of the Exo as he waved a hand in dismiss.

" I'm joking, joking! But man -- you find anyone who wants this job, you let me know. "

" Is being part of the Vanguard really that much? " the Ghost continues, amplifying the curiosity in the room. The Exo once more mulling words over in his skull, taking the energy to keep things simple and civil.

" Nah. Great job, great people - would be even greater if I had my Light back. But I miss being out on the field - going on my own. Finding new places to hide caches... writing love letters to the next big bad who wants to try and chase this sweet piece of metal down, knowing full well it'll be a bullet between the eyes if they even got remotely close. Man -- it's like missing your teenage years all over again. "

" Ikora mentioned a lot of .. Guardians, they don't have their Light right now, ever since the war against the... what were they called... "

" Ghaul, " Cayde fills in immediately, tone suddenly shifting in a more serious note. " He and his Cabal army wrecked the place. And with it, our connection to the Traveler. He's not only taken our Light, but he's taken too many of our men. Our women. Kids. We've lost too much to that ugly rhino in the sky and I'll be damned we lose anymore before I get my hands on him. One death I wouldn't mind being my last. "

" Last? " 

" Ikora didn't fill you end on that bit? Without our Light, those little guys are just Christmas decorations, " he then points over towards the Ghost, giving a minor shrug. " Plus, those who got caught out, the Cabal made sure of getting rid of the collateral.. "

" They killed their Ghost, too, " the Ghost speaks, shook. Selene having turned her head to and fro between it and Cayde, the grimace upon Exo features sharing enough that it was the correct lead way to ones' ' collateral control '. A shiver running down her spine, throat swallowing a lump of air that wished to stay around longer than it was welcomed. 

" If you guys don't have that... your Light, it puts both of you at risk, right? So whose fighting out there right now? "

" What we got left, " Cayde answers bluntly, tone more somber than the previous. " Guardians, Humans -- if we  don't fight, no one else surely will. All we got are enemies, and with or without our Light? We ain't gonna let them take what's ours. Not if we still have a chance. "

" So even without it... " Selene speaks quietly, attention dropping temporarily.

" We are more than just our Light. Regardless of what anyone else thinks, " the Hunter states, standing up from his chair and putting it aside. " Some people might not think so... but it doesn't matter what they think. It's what we know. What I know. "

Within a moment, Selene feels herself sink again -- unable to tell whether or not this was about to turn into another reason for her to decide something impossible. That this Hunter would turn just as the other two had, telling her to consider the choice. As if options were on the table with see-through glass that shone the inevitable. A brace for further turmoil... crossed arms make for her wrist as nails dig at her skin.

" For instance, " Cayde continues, pointing a daunting finger in her direction, " I know that you'll do great, Selene. And I mean that. I'm not typically a partner type of guy... but we need all the help we can get. And you? I wouldn't mind having another Hunter at my side I can trust. 

I'm not looking to replace the men I've lost. And I've lost a lot of great Guardians. Ones I can tell you story after story after story. But I'm looking for the next future of Guardians that'll keep those stories alive. Those who can help me keep their memory alive. You get me? "

It strikes differently, an unexpected wave of relation bubbling in her stomach like an erupting volcano. Her chest, unlike the cold that caressed her body in doubt, now in a warmth of understanding -- of clarification of what has to be done. He makes it sound less of a soldier to the field, and more of a obligated duty to those who had fallen. And while it doesn't make the idea of war more welcoming, it helps her understand that the Light in her chest is something... more, than just burden. It's responsibility, whether she wanted it or not. And that there were people out there like him -- those who genuinely wanted to use it for good, and not just for the front line. To tell stories -- to survive. To build.

It's not something she immediately cooperates with, but she can't help but feel... persuaded.

" You really think I can help make a difference...? "

" I know you'll make a difference. Maybe not to me, or the Vanguard. But you'll make a difference where it's needed. Feel it in m' gut, " he taps, the sound of steel exterior thudding beneath leather armor. " So how 'bout it? Am I getting you a short cut cape or long one, what'll it be? "

Was it required, the cape?

A brief glance towards his own, she takes a moment to picture both the physique and weight of one on her shoulders. The tension easing the moment she realizes just how pensive she's been this whole time -- shoulders only now drifting downward in relax moment. Did the size matter? Color? Emblem? What was it to a Hunter, their cape...?

" I guess... surprise me? " 

Indecisive demeanor, the Exo does a single clap and following finger-gun pointed motion before walking over to one of the cardboard boxes -- digging through the contents before throwing a randomized ball of fabric her way. Having caught the Awoken off guard as she emits a surprised squeak -- clasping the ball in her hands while trying not to fall backwards against the desk. It doesn't click as to what's between her hands until after the Exo speaks again, startled daze still tracking between gift and delivery.

" Surprise! There, outta the way -- now, next step, somethin to protect yourself. I got uhh, spare knifes, a few cannons... Amanda should have that rifle I gave her, gotta go ask about that one -- Do me a favor wouldja? Check that box behind you, should have some used belts with holsters. Grab a few. "

" I -- what? -- okay? " it's not enough to ask questions back, placing the balled-up cape next to her before turning around and sliding over to said box. It seemed it was not to be taken lightly when he had mentioned this was now a storage room -- dusted gear stacked upon stacked as she tugged one belt to acquire two more. How... many belts did she need again?

" You got a preference in firepower, Selene? " he throws the question over as he walks over toward the knocked over cabinet, attempting to pry its' contents with a few tugs before brute forcing the top drawer open. A few hand cannons slipping out, one seemingly still loaded as the impact flicks the trigger, firing off a single bullet across the ground -- its sound startling both the Awoken upon table and Exo on floor, whom instinctively jumped in place to avoid any unnecessary damages to his kicks. " -- Ah, musta took the safety off that one, yikes. "

" I uh... never... shot a gun, " her voices still shaking with the panicked hic from fired bullet, the next sound to make her jump is the Exo aggressively placing down one of the retrieved weapons from drawer against the top of the desk.

" Got it! Hand cannon for beginners then we'll work ya up to whatever feels natural! -- Now, if that's all good to go - Ghost! You revive her yet since the sink hole? “

" No? " the shell tilts.

" Good! Look at you two, already doing great, " Cayde exclaimed, walking over toward the door with fingers locked together -- a motion of cracking ones knuckles, if he had them, pushing the force out from his chest then dropping his arms back to his sides, quickly to be reformed with one hand on the hip and another reaching for his own hand cannon, giving it a twirl from the holster before loading a bullet. " Best way to learn is to do, am I right? Come on, kiddo -- we're going shooting practice. "

" R-Right now??? " 

" What, you wanna think on it and turn back into a bubblin' mess? Trust me. The faster you act the less you think and the less freaked out you are. We can have another heart to heart later if you really want to but while the fires' hot lets goooooo. "

It was... chaotic, to say the least. How quickly the demeanor had changed from crisis to, well, this. But in every right mind of the statement... she couldn't help but admit he was right. If she was going to go for this, there was no need to slow down if it was going to give her reason to lock down again. And who knew with how busy a schedule the Vanguard had... did they have schedules? Cayde seemed to have a schedule. That, when would be the most opportune time to learn both the groups of survival and that of a Guardian in whole. 

He made it sound as if he was rarely ever at the Tower without reason.

Might as well take advantage where it was given... right?

" I'm.. -- okay -- I'm coming, " she stammers, fumbling over the now crowded desk with a handful of belts, cloak and gun -- the last being remotely hesitant before locking her hands around its' grip safely and following the Vanguard out. 

With as much confidence that steered from the Hunter Vanguard as he walked, few words exchanged with several others as they made their way out of the Hanger, Selene couldn't help but feel... recognized. Something that lacked upon the meeting of other two Vanguard, that maybe he was right in where this is where she belonged. Regardless of what the others thought, subtle cues of recommending she stay away from the Hunter and that he was eccentric. It might've been the best example she needed if she wanted to get through this -- taming her Light and her purpose.

Today, she was making a decision.

Today -- she would become a Hunter.

[tgrlmls]

WHY HER?

Game of Thrones, some over-analyzing scenes, characters and ships

Alright then…

I know that I am a little late to comment on the hot topic that was the Game of Thrones series finale extravaganza and anything that is “jonsa”. I have been very angry about the last two seasons for a long time, but it looked like everyone has said what needs to be said one way or another. But I love analyzing and I have loved and loved this show and its characters for so long I have the right to over-analyze it to hell… ok? Good.

So… let’s go to my beginnings. GOT shippervise beginnings. I have been waiting since Season 1 for Jon and Deanerys to meet. I was sure their story arcs would come together ok? And Kit and Emilia had some really cute pictures that were taken for magazines etc. Fan arts, theories, anything jonerys, I was all into them. Incest was the only thing that kept me openly shipping jonerys but I was intrigued and I was ready to accept that “well… they don’t know they are aunt and nephew…maybe that will cause them to be star-crossed lovers? The tragic but beautiful love story? Or maybe knowing the Targeryen traditions they will say “you know what? Never mind that related thing bygones “and be a power couple? I was open to all options.

Then came season 6 episode 4… THE REUNION…of Jon and Sansa…what? That scene was so beautifully acted and shot and the music oh my god feelings. But I said to myself that is sibling love. It is normal they have both been through a lot. It was poetic, in a platonic way. But that scene and a lot of scenes that season between them were so very well done. I found myself saying “oh please don’t ruin this by making Sansa trust Littlefinger and wanting more power please.” To their credit…they didn’t. But they toyed with this idea too much too long for my taste. Anyway, yay jonsa have platonic relationship and some Starks are content for a change so I was happy. But the big thing was coming right? Jon and Dany.

Then came season 7. Started nice enough. I liked the differences between Jon and Dany and their first encounter. Dany was interested that was obvious. She was curious about Jon. Jon was not on his knees by her beauty or her dragons. BUT then she kept him as a prisoner…and the annoying “bend the knee” scenes came. I mean this woman accepted Iron Islands to be independent over a conversation. And she was not helping thousands of people, unless they bend the knee. What was “Breaking the Wheel” exactly? That is a question that I still can’t find the answer to. Dany wanted to break the Wheel of great houses ruling the people, by coming there demanding they bend the knee to HER because SHE IS FROM A GREAT HOUSE?

Ok that is for another discussion but all these things and lack of emotion for me in Jon and Dany scenes made me a Jonsa shipper in season 8. And lack of wit and general lack of IQ from other characters like Tyrion made me a big Sansa stan. My girl was wise. She was right. But what broke my heart the most was the treatment of Jon.

My Jon, had a character. He was a leader. He didn’t want it, but he was good at it. He was a natural. He always tried to do what was right, by his conscience. My Jon, even if he was head over the heels in love with a woman would not be a doormat. He would not sit idly by when  anyone is being burned alive. He was honarable, he was brave, he was just. He made mistakes, he failed but his intentions were always for the best. He left the woman he loved before because he was trying to do the right thing. And it was the right thing.

Anyway these issues aside, there are very interesting dialogues and acting choices in season 8 that does not make sense with what the writers were trying to sell us. And many scenes were analyzed in many great tumblr posts, probably this one had been too, but if I may, I want to over-analyze and ask my questions too.

That scene will be the “Why her?” scene or “Sansa betrays Jon’s trust and tells Tyrion his secret” scene and I can’t believe how the latter discussion can even be an issue with the way this scene was acted and shot.

So it begins “WHY HER?”

Let’s start with the beginning of the scene, shall we? Jon is leaving with Dany literally going to war, Tyrion -as it seems- seeks and finds Sansa, but she is so distracted and lost in her thoughts she doesn’t have have time for small talk she gets right to the point “Why HER?”

A very important thing to note here is that this is happenning very soon after Sansa learns that Jon is not her half-brother but her cousin. Of course we didn’t see her or Arya’s reaction to this. Hell we didn’t even properly see how Jon himself feels about this. Why would we care about these characters we loved for years learning such an impactful truth right? Sarcasm on. I mean they learn that truth right after they say they only need each other, we see the pack all together one last time and the scene cuts. Ok, sure!

But where I am getting at is that these characters are not robots and of course this information has someway affected them.

Sansa is watching the dragons all mighty powerful and scary here. But she is not afraid. She seems conflicted, and asks Tyrion why he is following Dany. She is trying to understand why Jon is following her as well maybe. Because Jon never gave her, or any of the Starks or the Northmen for that matter any reason other than Dany helped them with the Army of the Dead. Yes, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be a good queen. She didn’t help them because she is a great leader who cares about them and help them survive. No.

Tyrion:She loves your brother

Sansa:That doesn’t mean she’ll be a good queen

That is the thing that must be bothering actually. She agreed to help the North because she loves Jon.

And if it were not Jon and someone she wouldn’t fall for, she was going to refuse to help until that person bent the knee. Or maybe even after that. But again that was the stupidity of Season 7. So moving on to the scene at hand again,

Sansa looks sad here. Not plotting, not scheming, not angry…sad.

Tyrion: You seem determined to dislike her.

Yes she does and why is that? What reason Sansa Stark has to dislike Dany? Well, she made them bend the knee and took their independence? But that aside why is Tyrion and Jon are determined to like her? We will get to that in this same scene.

Tyrion talks about how a peaceful relations between North and the Iron Throne would be best for the people.

 Sansa: Jon will be Warden of the North so good relationship seems likely.

 She cuts Tyrion’s sentence as it looks like the “good relationships” part has triggered her somehow.

Tyrion stops and looks the other way almost apologetically

 Tyrion:I don’t expect him to spend much time here going forward…

 And Sansa cuts him again, more triggered and even more irritated than before

Sansa:Well I suppose it’s up to him.

Ok this one is really interesting, Sansa is very irritated about the relationship of Jon and Dany, this irritation right here is not about the North. She is angry at Jon. But this one, this anger right here is not because independence or anything political.

She says it’s up to him. Well the way the scene was acted,really leans into Sansa being jealous about Jon and Dany. She knows what Tyrion is implying. Jon will be in King’s Landing with Dany because of their relationship, the North and the IT will be in good relations because of that said relationship.

Sansa is very disturbed. It catches Tyrion’s attention, he asks her if she is alright, I mean look at her. She is on the verge of tears.

Many people argued Tyrion misreads this, I am not sure, it is possible but it also feels like he is somehow trying to console her, telling her she will be the real power in the North, that it is her word he is seeking of in this arrangements. He is trying to make sure Sansa has accepted these terms. BUT it is not for Dany’s claim. Tyrion is not afraid Sansa will oppose Dany and Dany will lose supporters. No he is afraid but for other reasons. Which we will come to.

Even Sansa realizes this, and asks him why he is concerned. Dany has everything right now.

She still has her armies, the northern armies, her dragons ...and JON. 

Tyrion: She is your queen too!

Tyrion: You don’t have to be her friend, but why provoke her? How is that in the best interest of your family or the North..

Sansa: You’re afraid of her.

Tyrion is afraid. For Sansa, for the Starks. This is the first time Sansa realizes even the supporters of Dany are afraid of what she is capable of.

She comes clean to Tyrion, tells him what’s really bothering her.

Sansa: I don’t want Jon to go down there…the men in my family don’t do well in the Capital.

While it is true that North men were not able to fight with the schemings of southron Capital. The bigger part in this is “Sansa doesn’t want Jon to go.” She fears for his safety. He is going to the Dragon Queen’s war. It is dangerous. Cersei is dangerous. Dany is dangerous. And Jon is a big player in this game even if he doesn’t want to. He was born into this. Even if he was Ned Stark’s bastard he was still important he was made The King in the North, of course he was still a big player even after he bent the knee. But there was more. Jon was not a big piece in this game. He was the BIGGEST because of the truth of his lineage. So when Tyrion unknowingly brings this up, Sansa gets that there are even bigger things at stake here.

She doesn’t want Jon to leave but there is also something more on the line here. Jon is the true heir. Her expression is full of worry and sadness as she turns her head looking away.

Tyrion notices this of course asks her if she is alright. But he doesn’t get it. He starts to tell her about how he believes in Dany, trying to convince Sansa or maybe himself. Because how can you possibly believe in someone making the World a better place, with constantly fearing she will snap and burn people for some reason that is justified in her head at the same time?

She thinks about her options. She KNOWS this game, she saw first-hand. She lived the ramifications “when you play the game of thrones you win or you die” 

And she decides to play the game actively. Trying to keep this secret was not going to protect Jon. Her father tried it. But Jon was sent to the Night’s Watch eventually. Now he holds so much importance even without this secret. And more importantly. Dany knows the secret. Her hand, Tyrion is even afraid of her, warning Sansa not to oppose her. How long will she be kept from unleashing her anger. How long till before someone calls Jon a King? How long till Jon opposes Dany because of something he doesn’t agree. We know Jon. Sansa knows Jon. (I mean real Jon, until he became a doormat, he must be there somewhere) trying to be passive will not have. They are in this game whether they wanted it or not. Ned tried to refuse to be in, he lost his life for it. His family almost lost everything. Jon tried to refuse to take a part of it but anywhere he went, anthing he did people followed him, chose him, put him in the game all the time. There is no middle ground.

Yes she betrays her word. She swore an oath and she broke it. Because “what is honor compared to a woman’s love” Or a man’s for that matter.

[knightowl725]

Healing in a Graveyard Ch.2

Fandom: Critical Role

A continuation of my work for Fjorclay Week 2020′s modern au prompt. I love fantasy settings so much, but apparently I love taking characters from a fantasy setting and putting them into the modern world more.

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828932/chapters/57314275

Chapter Two: Just let us help you

Fjord enjoyed focusing. When he lived for those years between ships, there was no real down time. No time to think. No time to lose yourself to the part of your mind that you keep swept under rugs. No worrying about what came next.

He didn’t enjoy the great, big future. It loomed over him like a storm cloud, filling his mind with questions like bolts of lightning.

What are you going to do after college?

What is your passion?

Will you find your place in this world?

How will you make something of yourself?

Were they all right about you?

It was no wonder he had given himself so readily to The Champions, back when Avantika sold it as something far more innocent and warm. But that came with its own price. And that price grew heavier by the day.

At least class was a time to focus, even if it wasn’t the subjects related most to his major. He always tried to schedule them one after the other. No breaks. Just running between buildings without a second to lose that focus, to turn his phone off silent and check what waited for him. To put off the world a little longer.

But class always ended. And when he stepped out of his last one mid-afternoon, walking the familiar path towards the cafe, he checked his phone.

Don’t bother coming to work.

Avantika. 

Are you serious? he typed, though her text had come in over an hour ago. I just wanted to hang with my friends for a bit. It’s not a big deal. I still need the money, and the cafe is short staffed enough.

Pleasing, bargaining, logic, none of it would work.

Her little bubble of a reply popped up, something akin to a knife to the chest.

I gave that job to another Champion. Until you’re ready to actually be one, don’t come back.

He slowed to a halt, people moving around him with the occasional annoyed glance as he stared at the message. 

He’d been dragging his feet for months now within The Champions. His year-long initiation had finished months ago, and then it was time to make the final promise. Avantika bore the tattoo on her palm, blatant and impossible to ignore. That was only the start. You handed over your belongings, your paychecks, your bank accounts, your life to The Champions.

He’d talked his way out a dozen or more times, not able to take that final step. It felt...wrong. It was wrong, right? Even Jester’s insane Traveler didn’t ask for people’s social security number. Just for them to paint a mustache in bright pink on the college’s founder statue. 

Plus, once he joined The Champions for real, he wouldn’t be able to see his friends anymore. The Mighty Nein, they’d called themselves when they were lumped together for Freshman orientation. The Champions didn’t say you couldn’t have outside friends, but it was clear in everything they did. It was all Uk’otoa, all the time. 

Fjord swallowed past a lump in his throat and finally remembered he was supposed to be walking. He kept going, through the campus, past the library, away from all the buildings until he was back in The Blooming Grove. He wandered over to the giant tree, tall even by The Grove’s standards, and sat at its base. There were no graves immediately under the tree, or at least no markers. Fjord had gathered it was that way on purpose, so people could sit here. He vaguely remembered seeing a wake being held around it once, when he’d walked by.

Now he leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes. He wondered if it might grant him some wisdom, some peace.

Peace. Caduceus had mentioned peace when he talked about meditation. Maybe...maybe it was worth a try in the morning. If it calmed the storm in his mind, it would be worth it. 

Fjord stayed outside for a long time. After a while, he pulled out his books to do some studying. It was nice, outside in the quiet. The campus had a few outdoor places, but they were always crowded and loud. This... This was peaceful. Even if it was dead people territory.

Which is more disturbing, he wondered. That I’m staying in a graveyard, or that after a day I’m kinda okay with it?

His stomach started to protest, but he just couldn’t bring himself to get up or get food. Apparently Caduceus kept the kitchen reasonably stocked, but Fjord was already taking up favors in being able to stay, much less having his own room. He couldn’t take food, too. But then, he also had $20 to his name, and something told him he wasn’t getting that final paycheck. 

When it grew later, hunger and stress left him exhausted and ready to go inside. He lingered long enough to admire the start of the sunset before heading into the Xhorhas.

Inside, he heard a raucous from beyond the entry room. He was fairly certain the door to the right led to the dining room and kitchen, the source of the noise.

“Fjord?” Jester yelled, voice bouncing off the walls. “Was that Fjord coming in just now?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he called back, weighing his options. He could hang out with his friends, a much needed distraction, but then he’d had to be closer to the amazing smells coming from the kitchen without eating. And he’d be grumpy. 

“Fjord, come here! Through the kitchen!” yelled Caleb, clearly in a jovial mood. Fjord sighed, or perhaps steeled himself, and stepped through the curtain.

The Xhorhas was weird and old and weird. The curtained door led into the kitchen, which then led into the dining room in a roundabout way. But he supposed it was nice, because anyone in the kitchen would easily see and chat with those in the dining room.

To no surprise, the kitchen was as cluttered and full of greenery as anywhere else in the house. This greenery seemed to be mostly herbs, though. Caduceus stood with his back to Fjord at the stove. He glanced over and smiled in greeting, exposing a peek of his dark purple apron covered in splotched stains.

Fjord looked to the right to see his friends seated at a long dining table, crammed together despite the extra space they left. 

“Come sit with us,” Caleb called. He stroked the curled up Frumpkin in his lap.

“Yeah, you’re just in time. Caduceus is making something special,” Beau said.

“Just a new recipe I’ve been working on,” Caduceus said humbly. “Fjord, do you have any dietary restrictions? I’m sorry I never asked.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Fjord tried to say. But as Caduceus realized Fjord wasn’t going to eat with them, the cheerful firbolg practically wilted. His ears dropped, his smile lowered, and even the vibrancy of the plants around him seemed to fade.

It was heart-wrenching, and Fjord quickly amended, “But it smells so amazing, I don’t think I can help myself. If it’s not too much trouble. And, uh, no dietary restrictions.”

“Wonderful!” Caduceus said, all the cheer returning to him in an instant.

Fjord remembered what Beau had said about one of the landlord’s “requirements” being his tenants allowing him to feed them sometimes, and he gathered this was what she meant.

Fjord took a seat beside Caleb at the edge of the group. Everyone chattered about their day, about the cool sparring match Beau had that Jester and Yasha got to watch, about the cutest thing that Frumpkin did that day, about how Molly had sent Yasha the funniest meme that morning and the video Yeza had sent Nott of their son.

Caduceus set out little snacks for them, a simple but delicious cheese plate with fresh fruits aplenty. They picked at it, laughing and teasing and talking until Fjord had forgotten about his day. 

The Champions wanted to be all that mattered in the lives of their members. They wanted to absorb them, promising to free them from their problems and worldly fears in a way that initially didn’t sound half so alarming.

But the Nein could actually do it, and without the painful cost. When Fjord was with them, he could forget about everything for a while. All that mattered was his friends. And he was happy. All they lacked was the intoxicating sense of direction The Champions promised.

With their vegan dinner served - and Fjord had never realized how good vegan food could be - Caduceus sat opposite Fjord and quietly joined in just as if he’d always been part of the group. 

“How was your day, Fjord?” Yasha asked softly, once everyone else had had their moment.

“Uh,” he sputtered. “It was okay. Got up early to help Caduceus, which went well. Classes were good. Got a lot of studying done.”

“I saw you outside earlier,” Yasha said with a nod.

“I thought you had work today?” Nott said.

He knew they weren’t like that, but he felt the weight of their eyes on him like judgement. “Avantika, uh, she told me not to come in. Ever. Until I’m ready to be a ‘real Champion’.”

“I take back everything I ever said about The Traveler being a cult,” Caleb muttered disapprovingly, but not of Fjord.

“See?” Jester said. To Fjord, she spoke more kindly, “You know, you don’t have to stay with them, Fjord. We could all go and get your things for you. You don’t have to see Avantika or anyone. Yasha is really very scary, and so is Beau, and Caduceus can be really scary when he wants to be.”

“Is that so?” Caduceus asked cheerfully.

“Yeah, we’ll totally kick their asses for you,” Beau said just as Nott leapt onto her feet on her chair and shouted, “We could kill them!”

Fjord reached towards her in a “let’s calm down” motion. “Let’s not… I don’t want them to die, Nott. Nor for any of you to go to jail.”

“I could talk to my dad,” Jester offered.

“Ooh, yeah, we could ask The Gentleman for help,” Yasha agreed.

“Can we maybe not get the mob involved?” Fjord asked.

“I have a place we could bury them,” Caduceus offered, chuckling at his joke even as it slipped by unnoticed by most of the group. Fjord caught it, and couldn’t help a little snort in spite of himself.

“Please, really,” he managed. “I can handle this myself.”

“Sure you can,” Caduceus said casually, stirring the tea he’d made with dinner. “But you don’t have to.”

That quieted Fjord for a moment, until he murmured, “I...Thank you.”

“Just let us know what you want to do,” Caleb told him, patting him a awkwardly on the shoulder.

~

The next morning started much the same as the previous day. Wake up early enough that it might as well be night. Help Caduceus around the property. This time they set about building new furniture to replace some of the older pieces around.

“Beau’s bed is very squeaky,” Caduceus said.

“Oh.” A moment passed. “Oh.”

“I won’t comment on anyone having guests over,” Caduceus said in his loaded way, “but I’d like not to be woken.”

“I’ll, uh, make sure to reinforce this one a bit,” Fjord said. 

It was luck, or perhaps a natural coincidence, that Fjord has the right kind of skills to help Caduceus with all his stacked-up projects. They chatted a little more that day, working together more closely on the same project as they were. Just simple things, like learning a bit about Caduceus’s family, Fjord talking about his time at sea. Pleasant conversation that made him feel a little more part of the Grove.

As they finished up their work outside - it was a little too crammed inside for building anything - they cleaned up their mess and headed indoors.

“Caduceus?” Fjord said. The taller man paused and looked patiently over at him. “I was, uh, wondering if I might meditate with you and Beau in a bit?”

Caduceus smiled brightly. “Yes, of course, Mister Fjord. She should be down for yoga any minute, and we usually spend about an hour with that.”

“I’ll be back down in an hour, then,” Fjord said, awkwardly starting up the stairs. Caduceus nodded, then turned towards the plant corner with the shelves and the little maybe-shrine. It had incense and little figures, but it might be less religious and more of a spiritual thing. Maybe? Caduceus didn’t seem the religious type. At least, Fjord couldn’t imagine him worshipping any god he’d heard of.

It didn’t help that the gods he was the most familiar with were The Traveler and whatever the fuck Uk’otoa was.

Fjord showered and changed, having done laundry last night along with some of Caleb’s things. He stayed in his room a little longer, fretting over the plant Caduceus gave him to pass the time and checking that he was on track with his assignments. Thank the gods Beau had insisted he take his laptop when she wretched him from The Champions’ house. Maybe he shouldn’t be talking to gods right now.

He made it back downstairs and sat on the stairs while Beau and Caduceus finished up the last ten minutes or so of their yoga ritual. As much as Beau’s physical abilities always impressed Fjord, he was fairly accustomed to her. Caduceus, though…

He wasn’t sure how someone so thin and tall could have the strength and grace to do some of the things he could do. He made Beau look...clumsy with each transition to some new pose. 

Fjord suddenly realized he was staring at a shirtless Caduceus and quickly looked away.

When they finished, they rolled up their yoga mats and welcomed Fjord.

“Just take a seat on the floor, get nice and comfortable,” Caduceus directed. “There you go. Take a few deep breaths, all the way to your stomach.”

He continued this way, counting breaths and seconds between them, guiding Fjord and Beau to scan their bodies for tension, just to notice it. To feel their lungs expand, to watch their thoughts pass by like leaves on the wind.

It was hard to stay focused on...well, not focusing. Fjord wanted to chase each thought, each leaf, like an errant child in the park. He felt frustrated by how often he had to draw his attention back to himself, to breathing. But he kept at it. He fixated on Caduceus’s calming voice, on each word, each syllable, each sound and to try and follow along.

And, for a moment, there was quiet. Something felt...different. Like his mind had unfolded itself, yet it was peacefully empty of his own chatter. Just quiet. Then the softest noise, like a warm breeze. Just him and the wind and the faint smell of salt.

It was as far as he got before he lost it, and shortly after, the meditation came to a close.

“How was it?” Beau asked him.

“It takes time,” Caduceus said. “It’s a new skill. If you choose to keep working on it, you will enjoy more of its benefits.”

“Yes, I can…” His own voice was softer, too. He cleared his throat for some reason. “I can imagine the benefits. That was...nice, Caduceus. Thank you for letting me join.”

“You’re always welcome,” Caduceus said. “Before you leave, don’t forget to go into the kitchen. I leave out some little things for breakfast during the week.”

“Wait until this weekend,” Beau told him as she stretched and got to her feet. She reached down towards him and hoisted him up by the hand. “Caduceus makes amazing spreads for breakfast on the weekends.”

“If you’d like to join,” Caduceus said.

“Absolutely,” Fjord told him. “Dinner was amazing yesterday, so I look forward to any more meals you choose to prepare.”

There was a faint shift in color on the firbolg’s face as he ducked his head. “Why, thank you Mister Fjord.”

~~

Things were quiet that day, and the next. But Fjord knew better than to think that meant anything. He still hadn’t decided what to do with himself, and he was four days into his seven-day break.

It was Thursday, and he at least had the luxury of hoping Caduceus prepared something for dinner again tonight. Fjord spent the better part of his afternoon after classes looking for jobs in the area, but couldn’t bring himself to apply to anything. Applying meant he wasn’t going back to the cafe, that he wasn’t going back to The Champions.

It was late afternoon that he made it back to the Grove, and off under the large tree sat Caduceus. He was surrounded by incense and items Fjord couldn’t make out. He looked to be meditating, perfectly still and silent, so Fjord left him alone and went directly into the house.

“Ah, Fjord.”

Yasha sat in the entryway on one of the couches there. 

“Hey, Yasha,” he said. “Good day?”

“Yes. I was actually hoping…”

“Yes?”

She hesitated. “I thought maybe we could talk?”

He could imagine what this might be about, but Yasha was not the overbearing one. She had said little about his situation, keeping any opinions to herself. For a long time, he thought he had Yasha fooled that things were fine. He later learned that was not the case.

Fjord tossed his bag by the door, careful not to upset the potted plants, and sat in a chair beside Yasha. “You want to talk?”

She took a long moment to think, brows a little furrowed. When she spoke, it was slowly and with intense deliberation. “I only wanted to ask if you remembered back when I was spending time with Obann.”

“Of course,” he said. It had been a miserable semester for Yasha, early on in everyone’s friendship but far enough that they knew something was wrong. A professor had gotten in her head, twisting her in her lingering grief into something she didn’t want to be. Angry. Even violent. The Nein, well, some of them had lost hope in her. Fjord had been among them. But others continued pushing, and eventually they exposed the professor for the shit he was doing to students. Among other, more blatantly illegal activities he roped them into.

Fjord remembered with some regret. He understood why he had felt so betrayed by Yasha, but now that he knew how it all ended, he wished he had been more understanding. But then, if he were honest, that trust was still being rebuilt between them.

“I was so angry and hurt,” she said softly. “Inside, I just felt tired. Out of control. It was easier to give over control. To tell myself I didn’t want it in the first place. I didn’t have to think, to feel. But that was worse, and it made me hurt the people I loved. 

“I don’t want to pry into your life. But since you came into the Xhorhas for the week, every time I see you I think… Where would I be if it hadn’t been for the Nein? If some friends hadn’t refused to give up on me, if you all hadn’t accepted me back after all I did? I think I would still be in that place. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, Fjord. Especially not you.”

“You think Avantika and The Champions are the same as Obann,” he said, staring down at the floor.

“I don’t know them very well,” she said softly. “But I think they’re having the same effect on you that Obann had on me, at least in many ways. And that doesn’t seem right.”

He was quiet for a time, before he said weakly, “What am I going to do? I don’t have a job. They have all my things. I’m one more C from losing my scholarship. I have no direction, and I don’t know--”

He bit off his own words, feeling the tension overwhelming him.

Yasha slowly, carefully, pressed a hand to shoulder. “You will find something new. We will both find something new.”

“I have no money,” he said, looking at her through blurred vision. “I’m homeless, with--”

“Caduceus will let you stay here longer, until you find a job,” she said. “We can all help.”

“I can’t--”

She shifted to put her hands on each of his shoulders, firm but not painful, to look him in the eyes. Her mis-matched eyes bore into him. “Let us help you.”

She paused, then said, “I know how hard it is, more than anyone. But you’re important to everyone here. We’re practically family. Just for a little while, let us keep you upright.”

She glanced aside. “It’s either that, or Beau and Jester are going to tie you up and lock you in the basement until you come to your senses.”

She was joking, he was fairly certain. The shock of it broke a watery laugh from him. “There’s a basement?”

She nodded severely. “Of course there’s a basement.”

Fjord laughed in earnest, drawing a smile from Yasha. She released his shoulders, and the tension eased from the space. They sat together quietly for a long moment, until Jester burst into the house with a dangerous grin, and all peace was lost.

[naivesilver]

Sonic X

Thank you so much!!! I’m still not done with my rewatch that I started long before quarantine even began but this is genuinely my time to shine

send me a tv series and I’ll tell you:

my all-time ultimate fave character: Knuckles. At 13 I vibed with him a lot and now that I know him better as a character I vibe with him even more.

a character I didn’t used to like but now do: Tween me found the Chaotix nothing but annoying. 2020 me frequently drops other projects to write self-indulgent fics about them. Talk about a glow up.

a character I used to like but now don’t: Literally all the Thorndykes. I found them funny as a kid but now they’re just. Dumb. And incompetent. And they share like half a braincell that Sam Speed has like 99% of the time BC HE AIN’T EVEN A THORNDYKE

a character I’m indifferent about: Emerl. Like I know the build-up was meant for me to find its death sad but I just. Felt nothing. Truly. I had no emotional attachments to Emerl.

a character who deserved better: LEAVE MY BABY GIRL COSMO THE FUCK ALONE DAMMIT

a ship I’ve never been able to get into: I had a hard time picking one bc I’ve been multishipping since the year of the lord 2011 but I’ve yet to truly appreciate Vector/Vanilla. I’ve seen some mighty cute fanart about them which I eagerly reblogged but I’m not really vibing it, chief. Also HOW CAN I NOT SUPPORT MY FAVOURITE FUCKING SCREENSHOT FROM THE SHOW

a ship I’ve never been able to get over: Tails/Cosmo was THE SHIT. Back then I used to watch AMVs about them and cry. Now I don’t cry, I just watch the same AMVs and plot fix-it fics that I’ll never write to cope.

a cute, low-key ship: Topaz/Rouge ARE YOU KIDDING ME THEY WERE GOALS I UNCONSCIOUSLY SHIPPED THEM WAY BEFORE HEAVILY-RELIGIOUS-RAISED ME REALIZED IT WAS AN OPTION

an unpopular ship but I still enjoyed it:  Scarlet Garcia and Mr Stewart. I didn’t notice them ganging up to solve mysteries when I was younger but during my rewatch I realized they had a lot of potential.

a ship that was totally wrong and never should have happened: Tanaka/Topaz. I laughed at the implications of it, and it gave me one more reason to headcanon Topaz has bi rather than a lesbian because yes I project myself onto characters wow but I really could have lived without another heteronormative pairing where random people got squashed together.

my favourite storyline/moment: Ngl I was really digging the baseball episode. I’ve played softball for a long time now and I loved seeing them fool around like me and my teammates still do because we’re dumbasses used to do when we were younger. Also one of my “friends” from back then printed me a pic of Knuckles in the uniform as a joke and I might still have it around.

a storyline that never should have been written: Can I say “write Chris out of the Metarex saga” or is it too mean

my first thoughts on the show: My very first thoughts are a mystery ‘cause I watched the show for the very first time when it came out in Italy and it was so unimportant to me that years later I only remembered a still from the opening sequence and one scene from the last season but. When I got back into it in middle school??? A fucking epiphany. I thought it was amazing and watched it religiously and got obsessed with it for months. My friends and I quoted it and the comedy videos inspired by it non-stop. Light of my early teen years, before it all went to shit.

my thoughts now: Trash. But like, the good kind of trash, where you can just kick back and watch your faves do dumb shit knowing everything will be alright at the end of the day. It still holds a special place in my heart and it had some very good character moments. Also it threw me into this amazing fandom that has kept me afloat for years now. I couldn’t be more grateful.

[psqqa]

by the time i stopped to consider why the fuck i was putting this together in the first place, i’d already typed most of it up. idk i guess i just like throwing my joy into the void, where the void can either choose to ignore it or derive some joy from it itself. either is fine.

anyway, i’m never going to have enough of these in any one category to put together a proper FST or anything, nor am i capable of imprinting on a song for reasons that aren’t like “feathers.......hawks”, because really this is all driven by my terrible sense of humour, but what i have collected so far Sparks Joy, so into the void it goes. 

psqqa’s list of songs applicable to bnha in some way, shape, or form

No One Is Alone - Into the Woods - this is a vibe i’ve been getting from the manga for a while but then the my villain academia arc just totally cinched it (while we’re seeing our side/maybe we forgot/they are not alone/no one is alone)

Falling - Haim - this one is a bakugou song for me, which probably says something about me because i’m fairly sure it could almost equally be a midoriya song if you wanted it to be. yes, both could be good, but the brain doesn’t always work that way. (they keep saying/don’t stop/no it’s never enough/i’ll never look back/never give up/and if it gets rough/it’s time to get rough)

Ice and the Storm - My Brightest Diamond - inatodo. i did warn you. (darling we’ve accumulated/too much miscommunication/in the beginning everything is soft/not defensive/perhaps we begin again/shining)

Sacrilege - Yeah Yeah Yeahs - feathers.......hawks. probably dabi/hawks given the options so far, but that’s pretty immaterial tbh (fallen for a guy/fell down from the sky/halo/round his head/feathers in our bed)

Girl - Anouk - listen i’m not going to lie, i’ve never fully been able to figure out what the hell is going on in this song. like, i would say it’s just straight up anouk being in love with the titular “Girl”, but then there’s the “him” in the first verse so who even knows. i’ve settled on polyamory, which makes this my jirou highkey got the feels for yaomomo and lowkey got the feels for kaminari and she needs yaomomo to understand this so they can work on a frankly totally unnecessary because kaminari is already all in baby Wooing Plan (still got my hands/they’re clinging/so i just keep going/i don’t know where i belong/could i belong to you)

Electric Feel - MGMT - electric..........kaminari. i like to think of it in terms of kaminari/jirou/yaomomo. idk maybe he gets bored waiting for them to plan their Wooing Plan and just takes matters into his own terrible pickup line hands. or perhaps it’s just aimed at yaomomo and we can take these two songs jointly to be The Wooing of YaoMomo. which actually now that i’ve typed it out i am quite fond of as an idea. (i said ooh girl/shock me like an electric eel/baby girl/turn me on with your electric feel)

the three song stretch that runs Slow Show-Apartment Story-Start A War - The National - The Soul-Crushing Weight Of Being In Your Early-To-Mid-Twenties!kiribaku. this would be like triply the case if i were reading this manga in 2012 instead of 2019. (i wanna hurry home to you/put on a slow dumb show for you/and crack you up - be still for a second while i/try and try to pin your flowers on/can you carry my drink i have everything else/i can tie my tie all by myself - do you really think you can just/put it in a safe behind a/painting lock it up and leave/walk away now/and you’re gonna start a war)

Fireproof - The National - also kiribaku. look man idk what to tell you. it just be like that sometimes. (you’re fireproof/nothing breaks your heart/you’re fireproof/it’s just the way you are)

The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts - Sufjan Stevens - man of steel, man of heart...............tetsutetsu. pick your tetsutetsu ship of choice. it doesn’t matter. all parties equally applicable because only a steel man can be a lover/if he had hands to tremble all over/we celebrate our sense of each other/we have a lot to give one another

New Shoes - Paolo Nutini - kirishima song!! (hey i put some new shoes on/and suddenly everything’s right/i said hey i put some new shoes on/and everybody’s smiling/it’s so inviting)

Dance Apocalyptic - Janelle Monae - mina song!! what can i say, it’s got mina energy. also i feel like ‘dance apocalyptic’ would a great hero name for mina. (but i really, really want to thank you/for dancing ‘til the end/you found a way to break out/you’re not afraid to break out)

Whoo! Alright – Yeah...Uh Huh - The Rapture - kaminari song!!! do the lyrics even work for him? who knows, i’m just in it for the cowbell. and so is kaminari. (people don’t dance no more/they just stand there like this/they cross their arms and/stare you down and/drink and moan and diss)

Invincible - OK Go - now i could, and i guess sort of do, think of this as a bakugou ship song generally, but to be quite honest, i think it’s probably just the song his brain plays on a loop whenever he does anything (when they finally come to destroy the earth/they’ll have to deal with you first/and now my money says they won’t know about/the thousand fahren/heit hot metal/lights behind your eyes/invincible/oh oh oh/you’re invincible)

Daniel - Bat for Lashes - tododeku - don’t @ me (daniel/when i first saw you/i knew that you had/a flame in your heart/and under wild blue skies/marble movie skies/i found a home in your eyes/we’d never be apart)

Gekommen um zu bleiben - Wir sind Helden - BAKUSQUAD!!!! i mean, also like 1-a generally, but for me it’s really the bakusquad.....also i literally just realized that the band name itself works really well here (wir gehen nicht/aber wenn wir gehen/dann gehen wir in scheiben/entschuldigung ich sagte/wir sind gekommen um zu bleiben)

Don’t Call Me Baby - Madison Avenue - the kacchako song. why? because i was reliving the turn of the millennium. next question. (don’t think that i’m not strong/i’m the one to take you on/don’t underestimate me boy/i’ll make you sorry you were born/you don’t know me/the way you really should/you sure misunderstood/don’t call me baby)

You Will Not Take My Heart Alive - Joanna Newsom - All Might. although i think this entire album is one he would Have Feelings about. and tbh it’s impossible at this point for me to consider any one song off this album entirely on its own. it’s always within the greater context of the album as a whole. (and i won’t come round this way again/where the lonely wind abides/and you will not take my heart alive)

Don’t Wanna Fight - Alabama Shakes - bakudeku. i didn’t actually think any song would ping me as bakudeku at any point, but here we are. (what you like/what i like/why can’t we both be right?/attacking/defending/until there’s nothing left/worth winning)

Mrs. Robinson - Simon & Garfunkel - hawks/dabi-hawks/endeavour melodramatic clusterfuck. no i’m not taking questions. (DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE/DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO/DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE DEE)

Riot Rhythm - Sleigh Bells - riot........kirishima. but yeah kirishima and bakugou are bros and that’s Good. they might also be more than bros, but that’s up to you i guess. (because my best friend/she's okay/carve you out/all the way/straight A kids/like a treat/she stands up/takes the heat)

In The Shadows - The Rasmus - tokoyami. i feel like i’m virtually incapable of talking about tokoyami without also mentioning this song, but like, you’ve seen the video right? (i've been watching/i've been waiting/in the shadows/for my time)

The Hero - Queen - this one is probably cheating, given that it was written for the actual soundtrack of an actual superhero movie, but it’s not like there’s any rules to this and i’ve never seen the movie......or anything else with flash in it i guess, so whatever. anyway, not so much All Might as like every character in this manga when they were 4yo watching All Might. (he’s for every one of us/stands for every one of us/he’ll save with a mighty hand)

Impossible Soul - Sufjan Stevens - this wasn’t on this list until sometime around 2:30 AM last night when i was lying awake because i didn’t take my nightly melatonin and something something i can’t even vaguely remember the train of thought but it ended in me deciding this was a good bakudeku song. not so much the first part, but like ‘do you want to be afraid’ onward. maybe the eight minutes of “boy we can do much more together” will be enough for bakugou to get the message. (boy we can do much more together/better get it right/get it right/get it right/get it right/boy we can do much more together/it’s not so impossible)

to be updated if further song pinging happens, i guess?

[jin-was-here-2]

Ship Questions: McReigns Edition 2

Who In Your Ship:

drives when they go on road trips? do they switch at the halfway point? does one drive there and the other drive back?

It's who ever's less tired or just wants to. It's one of those things they just have to do and want to be over and done with.

Roman is a radio hog no matter if he's the one driving or not.

looks over the menu for fifteen minutes before ordering the same thing they order EVERYWHERE they go? does the other half of your ship get annoyed by this, or do they find it endearing?

Roman's a foodie; he likes to know what all his options are. But a lot of the time he also wants to get something he knows he'll like. Drew finds it annoyingly endearing.

is more likely to get arrested?

...Drew. ...Just... sometimes certain types of people can really set him off and he gets a little... well, psycho. Great for in the ring... not so much in public.

is afraid of rollercoasters? does the other half of your ship try and convince them to face the fear, or do they take a softer approach and not push them at all?

Roman's not big on heights and crazy rides. Prefers the slower stuff. He can actually enjoy those and have fun. Rollercoasters aren't really Drew's thing either way, but he had fun goading Roman on to one once.

"C'mooon. You'll go against anyone and anything in the ring, but a little bumping does you in, Big Dog?"

"First of all, that isn't ''a little'' anything. Second, fine. But if I die I'm coming back to haunt you."

"Pffff. Noted."

shows up at home with a dog unannounced despite the fact they’ve already got three/four/however many pets?

Roman. He loves animals. Especially Dogs. (So do his brothers Seth and Dean. They're all bad influences for each other. When it comes to them.) So what if they already have a pomeranian, two chihuahuas, and a house cat? What's one more cute and fluffy family member? I mean really?

It drives Drew up the wall, because the only one he can really tolerate is the cat (They have a shared understanding of each other) and they always have people coming to their door looking for their bloody animals.

demands that they do date night? does the other person complain or do they go with it just to see the excited look on their partners face?

Roman. He's a total romantic. Mostly for the little shows of it. So the big things aren't something he needs all the time or even often. But there are times when the big ones go a long way with him.

Like they go out a lot, to just be together, however they don't really call them dates. It's just mutually nice. But sometimes Roman's bit by a love bug and wants a date date. And Drew obliges to keep the bf happy because he wants the bf happy.

is the clumsy one whose always tripping up flights of stairs or over their own feet? does it stress the other half of your ship out or do they find it hilarious?

Neither one is really clumsy. In fact, for two behemoths, they're suprising graceful.

*picks the music when they’re in the car? does the other complain about their taste in music?

insists on paying for everything when they’re out? do they fight about it?

Neither one really cares, but sometimes Drew takes it upon himself to be a little annoying. And then Roman will do the same next time to get him back for being a tit.

is the one to quietly suggest they get high together for the first time? how does the other half of your ship react?

Oh man. Well seeing as he has a nice plug in Dean and Renee, Roman. Drew dosen't have anything against it he just happens to not do it. And Roman wanted to see him high sooooooo baaad.

is secretly terrified of horror movies and yet watches them all the time bc its something the other half of your ship loves?

Roman, 'cause Drew likes a good scary movie. And it gives him a reason to curl up to him for comfort. (Which is also why Drew picks them in the first place a lot of the time.) Roman's ok with monster movies; you can physically fight monsters. It's the supernatural stuff that messes with him.

talks in their sleep? does their partner record it and call them out, or not tell them and keep it as a secret so they can keep enjoying it?

Roman talks in his sleep. Mostly loving on his brothers, pets, or Drew in his sleep. Drew secretly loves it. It's pure and soft and for his eyes only. Especially when there are little moans mixed in. He has started something more than once, kissing Roman awake once he heard those.

brings up the conversation of marriage + babies? how does the conversation go?

Roman wants allllll the kids ok. He has too much big dad energy to not want kids. It as to go somewhere. It'd be a long while before they have that conversation though. And Drew's gonna be caught off guard by it no matter when.

has to pull the other back by their back of their sweater when they try and do something stupid in public?

Both have had to. For trying to fight idiots in public. Roman more so 'cause Drew has like zero patience for people's bullshit.

is more likely to pick the other up from the airport with an obnoxiously large cardboard sign? what does the sign say?

YES. It's a dumb joke between them at this point.

Some of Roman's:

"You're evil cat has locked me out the bedroom. So now you're in the dog house. >:c"

"Looking for a tall unapproachable scary man. I'm very worried."

Some of Drew's:

"Here for The Big... Puppy. c:<"

"Looking for my lover. He's big, friendly, and will follow you if you give him food. I'm very not worried."

tries to cook a meal and accidentally almost burns the house down?

Drew. Poor man. Roman will never let him live it down. ...But I mean who burns spaghetti that bad?????

deliberately makes a squeaky chair squeak until the other person flips out?

Roman, 'cause he likes to push Drew's buttons every chance he gets. Rile him up. He thinks he's hot when he's annoyed. ...Especially at him.

falls asleep no matter what position they’re in + needs to be carried to bed?

Roman. He's a very sleepy boy.

They'll be watching a movie in the living room and Drew'll spot him nodding off.

"You better not be falling asleep. I am not carrying you to bed."

"Mmm.....zzzzzzz."

But then he dose. 'Cause he loooove hiiiimmmm.

is the little spoon when they cuddle?

Roman. Uhhhh he's baby??? And Drew pretty much makes sure of it for the most part. But there are times where Roman will snuggle up behind Drew and it's nice.

hates thunderstorms and needs to be comforted for the duration?

Neither one. Storms are whatever.

brings the other breakfast in bed? is it a proper cooked breakfast - or just an old muffin?

Both on occasions. Roman goes all out with a proper home cooked breakfast. Drew was very dimple-y that morning.

Drew went with pre-packaged muffins and yogurt. And Roman was just as touched by it.

convinces the other to go on a hike? do they love it, or are they absolutely miserable?

Drew, but it depends. They both like working out but Roman can be a little lazy or in a mood about it. But by the end he'd have had a good time.

uses emojis in replace of words? does it drive the other person insane?

Roman loves emojis. More so when he finds out Drew hates excessive use of them. It got so bad Drew gave him a limit. No more than two per paragraph or "bad things will happen".

can never admit they’re wrong?

They both have their moments.

lets the dog sleep on the bed when the other isn’t paying attention?

Roman. Everytime he's caught Drew throws a mighty fit. But like the dogs are super cute????? And he wants to be close to them?????

who decorates their house? does the other come home and blink at all the pastel pink and force a smile despite how much they hate it?

Roman's more decorative, but nothing so extreme that Drew hates it. Actually Drew is the one with this lounge chair that's so god-awful that Roman would like to see it burned

is more likely to get into a fight to defend the other?

Drew. It's actually how he realized he was catching feelings for Roman? And Roman highkey likes seeing himself being fought over.

is constantly spewing random facts about absolutely anything and everything? does it annoy the other person or do they find it all interesting?

Drew, and Roman finds it very interesting at times.

is the lovey dovey drunk?

Roman. He gets very touchy-feely. Like more so than usual.

laughs at their own jokes? does the other laugh at the joke… or at their partner?

When the joke or comeback is at the other's expense they laugh at their own joke. It's a hit or miss whether the other laughs at the joke or not.

is competitive about EVERYTHING?

Both. They really bring out the competitiveness out of each other.

apologises first when they have a fight?

Roman. He doesn't like when things aren't ok for too long.

makes the other a flower crown? does the other wear it without complaint or beg not to be embarrassed?

Drew wouldn't be caught dead making or wearing a flower crown.

is more likely to put their fist through a wall when they’re angry?

Either one. As long as it's not their wall. Roman expecially has too much pride in the house .

sends the other memes despite the fact they’re laying in bed next to each other?

Roman. He forgets 'cause Drew, Dean, and Seth are the usual ones he sends things he thinks are funny.

wears the others clothes the most?

Roman. 'Cause he can wear Drew's tops and bottoms. But they basically share pants at this point.

pranks the other on a near constant basis? how does the other react?

They drive each other nuts with how much they mess with each other, already. Only a few times has it turned into a full-blown Prank War. Which Roman is really good at 'cause uhhhh Dean. Drew knows he can't win.

comes up with obnoxiously sappy pet names for the other just to watch them roll their eyes?

Drew. He loves throwing up sarcastic sickeningly sweet pet names. He knows how they sound coming from someone like him. And sometimes he'll say them close to Roman's ear just to see him squirm.

forgets their anniversary

Neither. But we're talking about the big ones.

Roman likes to keep track of the little ones. Ya know, just to think about and reminisce.

is impulsive and makes big choices for them without stopping to think through what it all means?

...Drew. It's something they really have to work on because it has caused a lot of fights. He just gets in these moods sometimes where he "thinks he knows best, and if you don't agree well then that's too damn bad". Roman's used to group compromise. So that kind of attitude get's right up Roman's nose, and he's too strong willed himself to deal with it so they clash.

writes cute messages for the other on the bathroom mirror when they have a shower?

Roman. He'll be brushing his teeth and'll spot the mirror steaming back up from Drew showering and'll write something short and sweet like "love you ♡". And

Then while he's getting dressed Drew'll hug him and kiss his on the head. "You're cute."

has to do the dishes because the other gags any time they stick their hands in the water?

Can I just take the time to say I loathe nasty ass dish water.

Neither really. But Drew really ain't about that life. "We have a dishwasher for a reason."

jumps into the pool without testing the temperature, and who dips their toes in first?

Roman cannonballs without a second thought. He's so used to water. Drew prefers to test it first.

tries to kill bugs in the house… and which one stops them and gets the bug out of the house alive and well?

If there's a bug it needs to go. Preferably with Drew dealing with it.

can speak a second/third/forth language and uses it to annoy the other when they’re fighting?

Neither? If they do they don't annoy each other with it.

says i love you first? does the other immediately say it back?

It was surprisingly Drew. When they weren't at all together or even that friendly with each other but were sleeping together fairly regularly. ...It was a very confusing time. And something that had been bubbling up for awhile.

wins when they arm wrestle?

Ooooo. Oooooooooooo. They're 2-3 'cause Drew just broke the tie. But that's ok. Soon.

gets caught singing some old, corny one direction song to themselves?

Usually it's Roman. But everyone has had What Makes You Beautiful stuck in their head. Everyone. Even big ol' scary Drew.

"...Ar- Are you singing‐?"

"NO."

is forever forcing the other to take selfies with them? does the other person complain every time?

Drew don't do selfies. Or at least not often. Roman doesn't either but they're fun with other people. Drew complains a lot but he does it in the end.

shows up at the others house with chinese food + a six pack of beer when they’re having a bad day?

Roman. Beer and food make everything better.

sends the cheesy good morning/night texts?

When they were apart Roman would always send good night texts. Later on Drew would send morning ones when ever they're apart.

can never admit that they were wrong?

Drew has his moments.

suggests they send out a christmas card together? does the other go for it, or question when they turned into old people?

Roman saw it in movie one year and suggested it. Half for as joke and half because he really wanted to. It'd be funny. ...Nice, maybe? Drew definitely asked when they turned into old people.

is a morning person and who pulls the covers up over their head and begs for five more minutes?

Roman likes his "beauty sleep" and sleepin' in. Hates being woken up. Drew just likes to get his day started.

is constantly insisting they won’t need a jacket before they go out… and then has to steal the others when they get cold?

Oh my god, Drew is the worst with this. It's always, "ahh, I'll be fine". But then not that long into whatever they're doing he'll sit and act like he's not cold, and Roman'll roll his eyes and pass him the extra jacket he brought.

is a smoker and has to deal with the other forever showing them gross photos to try and convince them to quit?

Neither. Ok, occasionally Roman does some jesus cabbage with the boys. Drew dosen't get that hung up over it.

decides they need to go on a health binge and throws out all the sugary food in the house? how does the other react?

Drew did. Once. And never again after. Roman had kittens he was so mad.

holds all the important documents when they’re travelling? why?

Roman. Drew likes to think he can remember everything. He can't.

hates flying? how does the other help them relax before/during/after a flight?

They've done it so much it ain't anything nothing to either.

is more likely to suggest a lil fool around in the bathrooms at a club? how does the other react?

They're both fond of jumping each other in uncompromising places. Especially in the beginning when they were just fooling around with each other.

plans a night of board games for date night, and who plans a romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant?

When they do do date dates. It's because Drew knows Roman wants one. And good food goes a long way. But when they want something chill either one pulls out board games.

cries watching the news?

They don't watch the news. Or at least mainstream versions of it.

teases the other one for having a crush on them… despite the fact they’ve been dating for a year?

Roman. Mostly when Drew does something extra soft towards him.

believes in aliens?

Drew. Roman doesn't think much of it. Or it kinda freaks him out if he thinks to much about it. The rare times they're all together and Dean and Drew aren't at each other throats, it's because they're talking about spoopy stuff like that. Roman is amazed every time.

is constantly leaving the lights on in every room in the house?

Neither.

rocks the seat on the ferris wheel?

Drew would have had to really talk him on to it in the first place; he wouldn't be that mean. Maybe Drew would have at the beginning though, when they were enemies with benefits but was just starting to turn into something else.

is a terrible liar?

Ro can't lie to people he cares about to save his life. Baby feels soooo bad. And it's so visible.

is always reading the other their star sign despite the fact they don’t believe in any of it?

Drew. Everytime he sees it in s magazine. He thinks it's absolutely ridiculous how they say something different every time. How many meaning can they have? I mean really.

who panics when mercury goes into retrograde?

Neither even knows what that really means.

insists they watch documentaries to broaden their knowledge?

Drew. But then he'll see one that's wrestling related and they'll end up watching that.

is constantly renovating part of their house but not finishing one thing before moving on to the next?

They aren't home enough for multiple projects. So they'll have one that'll last longer than it'd usually need to take.

uses all the hot water?

ROMAN. It's why Drew is is extra pissy when they have to get up but he doesn't get to the shower fast enough.

"It's all that blood hair you have!"

is the shower person? whose the bath person?

They both like shower. They're quick and they have places to be. But when they have the time Roman suggests a nice long soak together. Helps with soreness sometimes.

is most likely to be unfaithful?

Neither. But if we're looking for angst... Roman might... accidentally... fool around with Dean... or Seth... or something. Maybe there was some pinning on one of there sides. But they were supposed to be just bros. They had some drinks and it just happened? I don't know but drama. Angst.

Bonus:

what is your otps song?

The Mighty Fall In Love by Fall Out Boy

do their families approve of the relationship? why/why not?

Yeah. I like to think everyone's chill. But there's always room for angst there.

whose friends do they hang out with more?

Roman's. Drew don't really have friend friends.

what do they do on their first date? did they have a first date, or did they just sort of… start dating?

Being together just sort of came up and bit them in the ass. They have no idea how or when it happened but they have allll the feelings now so fuck it.

what is their favorite way to spend the holidays? do they go to one of their families houses? or do they create their own tradition by staying in bed listening to christmas music and getting drunk?

They either go to each other's families, their friend's, or just have a little thing for themselves. Roman has a ball cooking special things for them.

what do they name their dog? do the give it a super boring name like allen - or do they name it something like bubblegum princess?

Roman named his pomeranian Tiger, and his chihuahua Tiny and his smaller chihuahua Mini. He baby talks to him a lot.

Drew is just as bad with his two black cats. He just refuses to admit it. He named them Max and Monty.

Y'all I'm bad with names. I donno.

how do they handle emergencies? does one of them crack under the pressure - or do they bicker because they both need to be in control?

They both have a strong need to control things. And it's amplified when things go wrong so they clash there at times too.

how did they meet? were they immediately drawn to each other?

Instant mutual dislike. But strangely attracted.

what do they fight about the most? how do they resolve their fights?

Control. They're both so stubborn and strong willed it causes a lot of friction at times.

Or Drew's refusal to get along with Dean and vice versa.

Inspo (x) 

[tamius-han-blog]

Did Toothless really have no choice?

(Writeup also available on my real blog)

So there’s been this tumblr blog by @flightmare-kid that got shared on one of my discords. For those who don’t want to follow, here’s a TL;DR.

Remember this scene from How To Train Your Dragon 3, where Toothless basically orders dragons into cages?

OP got their jimmies rustled by people saying Toothless shouldn’t have pretended to be French

And in the follow-up post, they basically stated that Toothless had no other options but to tell dragons to back off even if you ignore the Thotfury issue.

So let’s take a look at why this is wrong, no matter how you slice it.

If Grimmel Killed the Light Fury

… then he wouldn’t live for long. He wouldn’t even live for short. He’d immediately get blasted apart by every single draconid on Berk.

Contrary to the popular belief, the weapon specimen that Grimmel wields in that scene is not an M4A1. It’s a standard-issue medieval ballista. Its fire rate is much, much lower than that of M4A1 and reload times are pretty awful to the point getting more than one shot out of ballista in any given minute would likely be a massive achievement. In any case, once Grimmel fired his first shot, dragons and wyverns would have forever to blast him.

Obviously, we’re going to face a minor issue here. First of all, you can’t damage the dragon-powered quadcopter Grimmel flies on. That problem is easy enough to solve (just grab him and/or knock him off his stand). The other problem is that precision-blasting Grimmel off the quadcopter leaves the dragon-quadcopter without its pilot. This is a slightly awkward situation, because there’s no telling how deathgrippers would react. However, all the possible reactions generally fall into three groups:

They hover in place

They continue moving towards the ships at the unchanged pace

Panic like my XCOM2 squad the moment they catch a whiff of aliens.

Option 1 is ideal and makes rescuing Toothless easy. Option 2 is a bit worse, but still ideal. There’s six death grippers (four on quadcopter + two solo) facing Toothless’s entire army, which means that Toothless would be returned to the island before he made it halfway to the ships.

Option 3 is where things get a bit more problematic. Panicked death grippers translate into problems for the quadcopter. Best case, quadcopter will become unstable. Worst case, death grippers end up knocking themselves out and freefall to their death. The chance of anyone falling to their death is still borderline negligible in this case — if four death grippers were enough to hold the quadcopter in the air, dozens of Berk’s dragons shouldn’t have a problem holding up the damn thing in the air.

Image caption: Here we can see that the quadcopter isn’t hovering above the land at this point — it’s decisively over the cliff edge. But keep in mind that New Berk is three kilometers tall (from sea to the lake). If the quadcopter starts losing altitude, team Berk has lots of time to catch it.

If Thotfury gets killed, then it’s game over for Grimmel while team Toothless wins with zero additional causalities.

And if you wondered which of the three options is going to happen if you remove Grimmel from his seat without damaging the quadcopter, here’s your answer. Death grippers continue hovering in place.

The quadcopter only started crashing once Toothless dropped his mixtape.

Could Grimmel be Disposed of Before He Gets a Chance to Kill Thotfury?

Let’s just put things this way. Grimmel doesn’t have eyes on his ass. Have some dragons go around and attack him from the back.

The obvious issue with this plan is that two solo-flying death grippers could notice them and alert Grimmel. That still doesn’t mean Grimmel would get a chance to kill the light fury. The moment he turns around to check what the ruckus behind him is the moment he’s not aiming for the light fury. And the moment he’s not aiming at the light fury (or just being generally distracted) is an opportunity to get rid of him without thotfury getting it.

Would Grimmel Kill the Light Fury

Given everything said so far: lol.

Of course he wouldn’t. Not only would he no longer have a bargaining token for Toothless — once Light Fury is dead, there’s literally no reason for draconids to take it easy on Grimmel; and as first section shows us: Grimmel would get absolutely annihilated in this case.

His threats were empty.

Coulda called his bluff with little consequences.

“And the Flock was Never in Danger”

One of the reblogs (by @coleslawxx of this post states:

And the flock wasnt really in danger. The hunters left the cages unlocked bc they thought Hiccup wasnt coming, and Toothless obviously knew he would bc he then immediately commanded the three like, second in command dragons to break out and go fight

What? That’s patently false.

First of all, the trappers didn’t leave the cages unlocked because they thought Hiccup wasn’t coming. They left them unlocked because “plot convenience.”

If you take a closer look at the cages, there’s two things one can notice.

All cages come equipped with bolt locks and nothing else. Nobody is using padlocks or keys, because why would you? Literally no benefit. Keylocks are mighty expensive and time consuming to manufacture and offer no extra security when you’re trying to keep a dragon in the cage.

Doorhandles are also nowhere to be seen, which means that if the door is not locked with the deadbolt lock, it can be easily opened from the inside of the cell.

Let’s take a look at some screencaps:

Caption: Hey look, deadbolt locks.

Caption: 95% chance this is just a regular deadbolt lock. The second thing worth mentioning is that trappers were, in fact, locking the cages. However, since there was more cages than there was trappers, the trappers couldn’t lock everything at once. I was a bit unfair when I called it a ‘plot convenience’ earlier, I know.

And to top things off: here’s a link to gfycat of Snotlout unlocking the locked cages: https://gfycat.com/grouchyedibledipper

Just because the trappers haven’t managed to lock all the cages in 60 seconds flat, that doesn’t mean they haven’t been locking them.

So that statement is a bunch of ballooney. But then again, that second reblog has negative amount of thought put behind it so ...

Anyway, that’s it for the night.

[ancientbooshartifacts]

I Can't Be In Love If It's Plastic

Author:  Vituperative_cupcakes

Year: 2014

Rating: M

Pairing: Matt Berry/Rich Fulcher

One of life's fleeting moments of uncertainty struck Matt when he first brought Rich to the club. His new acquaintance was a boorish yank, undoubtedly, and prone to buffoonery, skylarking and backsass. Also, he was a complete asshole. But this was part 32 of Matt's thousand-part plan to annoy the hell out of his fellow clubbers. No, the only worry was getting rid of the American, should he become a nuisance to Matt himself.

Bringing Rich into the club turned out to be a spectacularly bad idea for completely unrelated reasons.

Matt fell in love with him.

It had all the makings of a brilliant day: Rich had dropped Prince Albert's original can, wiped his arse with the club edict, and stuck his tongue down a visiting dignitary's throat. And that was just the first ten minutes. Matt bubbled over with amusement as he watched Rich bounce from table to table like an bawdy terrier, flinging his leg out with drunken enthusiasm, smiling adorably...

Whoa, cool tool. What?

Rich was beneath contempt. He would have to climb a stepladder to even touch the bottom of the barrel. And yet, as Matt watched the ensuing chaos like a game of perverted pinball, something stirred inside him. Something he immediately tried to drown with whisky.

Matt tested him. He stole his women, gaffled money from him, even poisoned him. And yet Rich never once declared their friendship over. He'd been so close, he'd thought, when Rich told him “you can be so fucking cruel.” He thought soon, Rich would leave from his constant onslaught of abuse. It never came. Hell's ballsack, he'd cuckolded him on his wedding day! But Rich took it all in stride, in his own obscenely Zen way.

It was that moment, with his gentleman's brigade still wet with Rich's lady love, gazing down at the man himself laughing radiantly, that Matt fell stupidly in love with him. It wasn't just the way he smiled, slow and secret, when they sat across from each other at the club. The way he wet his mouth, the way he sighed nasally when he was reading, or even his arse(though it was fine). It was how bloody forgiving he was, how eager to please Matt. Women were fickle creatures, so focused on “feelings” and “sensitivity” and “not having sex with the maid during her dad's funeral.” Rich was like a dog. Especially when it came to sticking his nose in other peoples' crotches.

Matt tried very, very hard not to love him, but that didn't work. Then he tried drowning Rich in a sea of the choicest trim, hoping that the tide of heterosexuality would deluge his bicuriosity. Dammit, why did Rich have to make eye contact during an orgy?

Matt learned to make peace with the fact that he would never be able to live his giant mancrush on this doofus down should it ever see the light of day. It was ridiculous. So ridiculous he would never be able to tell Rich how he felt. The man would laugh, as he had been trained to laugh at anything tender through Matt's influence.

Mat ran down the list of options:

He could kill Rich.

Tried. Couldn't.

He could get Rich deported.

Hell, if throwing up on the queen mother hadn't gotten him shipped off back to Pricksburg, Cockachusettes, nothing would.

He could get Rich interested in a lady.

This wouldn't work, because Matt's pride refused to let Rich go for one day of monogamous joy before swooping in to steal her.

He could have quick, dirty, meaningless sex with him.

...Interesting prospect.

Matt had resorted to many a quickie when it seemed like he was getting too attached to a skirt. Sometime in between kissing her and blowing a load onto her duvet, his infatuation lost its staying power. But maneuvering Rich into place would take a much more delicate operation than a pint of stout and some erotic lithographs. The first step was easy: get Rich blind-stinking drunk. Rich easily got so soused he didn't remember his own name. The second was difficult only because of Matt's aversion to displays of affection. He let his hand splay on Rich's knee during a viewing of Death Balls 3(Rich's movie choice) not kneading or massaging, just there.

When Rich did not react, he went straight to phase 3: grabbing Rich and shoving his tongue down his throat before the awkwardness could set in. To Matt's surprise, Rich moved fluidly from laughing at a man on fire to snogging like a mule eating an apple. Rich's tonguework was sloppy and rough and should have been ridiculous, but Matt tented his trousers almost immediately from the stimulus.

Phase four, mocking Rich until he went into bed without raising any objections, was promptly derailed when Rich grabbed two handfuls of Matt's meat seat and pressed him against the back of the sofa. Matt made a less-than-dignified noise into Rich's mouth as the American slipped a deft hand down the front of his trousers, cupping Lord Cardigan and the Light Brigade.

Phase five dissolved into a frantic dry-hump session as he and Rich tried simultaneously to have sex and disrobe each other. Rich's watch caught on his belt and they flipped onto the carpet in one horny mass, Matt on the bottom. It would have been terribly romantic if Rich hadn't landed elbow-first on his kidney. Luckily Rich understood his signal of a knee to the bollocks and backed up. He had his freed hand on Matt's belt, using it to pull him by his hips to the bedroom. Matt let himself be led, out of breath and completely out of phases. Rich was still smiling that insinuating smile, now paired with the bedroom eyes of an inebriated seal. Matt reminded himself to be angry later.

Now free of the constraints of sofa sex, Rich got directly to business. Matt's fly parted like the red sea, freeing the mighty tiger that had been pacing its cage all evening, then Rich put his mouth to work and Matt ran out of similes.

Rich was surprisingly good at giving head. Matt had to wonder, with what was left of his brain, when and where Rich had experimented. He also reminded himself that jealousy was pointless because he did not love Rich, he did not love what Rich was doing with his mouth. He did not love Rich's bum three times in quick succession. He did not love the little puppy-whimper than Rich made through his nose as he came. And he did not love the sight of Rich passed out beside him, all fucked out and smiling like a fat toddler.

The hangover came the next morning like a reproach. Matt rolled over and was horribly disappointed to discover that Rich looked just as cute in the harsh light of dawn. He swore into his pants and tried to leave without making noise.

Matt had a few hours alone with his paper at the club. Luckily, Sir Berry was busy with the pinball table Rich had won in a thumb-wrestling contest and couldn't smell the shame on him. Matt was just beginning to deny he was worried when Rich slid into the seat across from him with a “Hel-looooooo.”

Matt nodded curtly, not looking up from his paper. He'd been on the same page since ten-thirty.

Rich enjoyed a round of “mail, gentlemen” with Ken. His smile was still stupidly pretty, it was like the beatification on the patron saint of wanking.

“Morning, Matt,” Rich said, no difference in tone, no indication that anything was out of the ordinary.

Matt nodded again. Rich wet his lips and slid his hand absently down the leather arm of his chair. Matt had to cross his legs.

“I was just thinking,” Rich said, “we should go on a trip somewhere. Somewhere warm, like Newyorka.”

“It's Majorca, you tool,” Matt muttered.

Something picked at his pinky finger. Matt lifted his wrist and a warm hand slid into his.

“Sure, My-jorka,” Rich continued in his nasal whine, “or Rome. Or Italy.”

“Rome's in Italy, you berk.” Matt tried to ignore the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Rich's thumb stroked the back of his hand. Once Matt remembered how to breathe he asked Rich, “how the hell are you planning to pay for a trip right now? I have your money.”

Rich let another slow, lazy smile. “I could win it back from you. I'm really good at darts. Hey, I'd really like to blow you right now.”

Matt took a moment to process this statement. “1: in your dreams. 2: a blind cripple could best you at the board. 3: aurghruh—” his sentence melted into an inarticulate cry as Rich slid his hand into Matt's front pocket in broad view of the rest of the club members. He took a discreet look around, but no one seemed to be looking. Rich still smiled at him.

“I could do it in the bathroom. The regular one, not the scary one. I think it's like a Tardis, only full of hookers and magic instead of time travel. Hey, Hooker Who, there's a show for you!”

One of life’s fleeting moments of wordlessness struck Matt that day. Rich's stream-of-consciousness poured over him, drowning out the noise of the club. Matt realized his plan to seduce Rich had the opposite effect of what he'd hoped for, and in retrospect was really stupid. He would flee the country, travel through dark jungles and sandblasted deserts, scourging himself of his crush on this ridiculous manboy.

“Rich,” he croaked.

Rich stopped talking immediately.

Matt cleared his throat.

“My rooms?” he said.

Rich leaned forward. “The scary-bathroom-you with the turban said you'd go for that.”

Matt couldn't stop the smile spreading on his face. “Get in there you berk.”

He decided to put off fleeing for a few hours.