#and they make me want to throw myself off a buildin

[murder-raven13]

My BNHA Ships pt. 2

I meant to get all of these into one post because I don’t have as many as I did for Haikyuu!!, but then the first post got really long. So, we’re back with more ships that no one asked for. [We’re also gonna ignore the fact that I have three (3) assignments due today that I haven’t started, Italian and anthropology ethics be damned]

Warning(s): cursing [this is gonna be a perpetuality with me; I am incapable of not sounding vaguely like an angry gremlin when I talk of anything remotely affectionate or lovely in nature], I am going to try and contain my word count [I fail, of course], Mineta slander, [minor] spoilers, low-key character study/headcanons, low-key became a story instead of an explanation for Shinkami

Word Count: 1,356 [proud of myself]

PT. 1 

Momo x Jiro [Minor Spoilers]

Did anyone think I wasn’t gonna have at least one lesbian ship in here? [We’ll ignore the fact that I headcanon Jiro as pan and nonbinary for the sake of statement simplicity there]. Anyway, I don’t really know where this ship started for me, but it’s there. I think their relationship dynamic in the show is really interesting, even though it’s not shown as much as some others. Both of them are more quiet, serious characters, especially in the beginning. Jiro, especially around the school festival arc, ends up being a fun, outspoken person, a kind of support beam for their class, especially in the field. Eventually, Momo ends up being very involved with her class. She acts as a voice of reason and encouragement, and she never really expects to get that particular brand of care in return. Jiro, bless them, does return that brand of care, though not in exactly the same way. They’re a shoulder for Momo to lean on when it’s needed. I also firmly believe, especially among the hecticness of class 1A’s personalities and everything they go through together, that these two find a kind of quiet solace in each other that they don’t often get elsewhere. Basically, Momo is Jiro’s safe space and Jiro is Momo’s. I don’t see this as a kind of grand or particularly passionate kind of love, but rather as a simple kind. It’s not made of grand gestures and dramatic declarations of love. Instead, it’s quiet mumbles of “I love you” into the dark and small, fleeting kisses left on calloused palms. It’s steady and strong, an undercurrent that keeps them afloat. Momo and Jiro’s kind of love is fundamentally just safety, surety, and it’s powerful in a way that isn’t outright, and, honestly, a love much rarer than most would believe.  

Ochako x Asui [Minor Spoilers]

The lack of screen time and development Asui gets is honestly criminal. Fucking Mineta got more of a backstory than Asui did and Mineta is a piece of shit. Personally, from the show, I have basically nothing to go off of to build this ship. It’s mostly built upon passing mentions of it in fanfic I’ve read and my own self-indulgent bullshit. So, let’s discuss that, why don’t we? Ochako, in the show, has a bit of crush on Izuku, which I think is not only predictable, but also just a bad idea. Ochako is prone to not believing in herself and turning to others to look for a way to fill the gaps she sees in her own abilities. This means that Ochako often mimics the traits she values in others [she does this a lot with Deku in particular, which is why I don’t think their relationship would be healthy]. Asui also has moments of doubt, but she never strays far from who she is as a person or from what makes her individual. I think Asui would help Ochako realize the strength in her own character, her own drive, and her own abilities and stick with that. And, honestly, after Ochako’s time with Gunhead, she starts focusing more on physical training, which I adore. But it also means that I legit headcanon adult Ochako as absolutely ripped. This woman is massive and entirely muscle. And her face is still friendly, of course, but she can also look frighteningly serious, which is comforting to other pros and civs and very terrible for villains. I don’t think Asui gets much bigger than she is at UA. I think she gets taller, and she’s definitely toned and strong, but not built like a goddamn truck the way Ochako is. And I think that physical dynamic is really cute, especially in wxw relationships. That being said, I don’t headcanon Ochako as butch or anything like that. I just think these two would be cute together. And, in my head, both end up pros that focus a lot on rescue work. So, they understand the particular pressures and feelings that come with being tasked to getting people out of high-risk situations and the feelings that come with failing at that [it’s a lot more common to lose people during rescue work than during legitimate fights with villains themselves]. This is another relationship I see as more lowkey and, like Momojiro, I see them as a couple that finds a safe space in each other, as well as a confidence boost. 

Mineta x Death

Death is not a character. I just hate Mineta. That’s it. I think he’s the epitome of a man who goes after a position of power to use it to abuse women because he’s an entitled piece of shit that doesn’t understand why women don’t just like him.

Denki x Shinsou

My love for this ship is astounding and I hate it. Shinsou is so tired all the time and Denki is always so hyper. Not to mention Shinsou is grumpy and sarcastic, and Denki is fun and only speaks in memes [a social butterfly]. This is Erasermic, part 2 in a lot of ways. But it’s also different. Shinsou is someone who’s angry and insecure and depressed, whose only solution to any of that is to just work hard. And Denki is anxious and low-key hates himself, despite everything he seems. He feels dumb and inadequate and a burden to his friends and he hides all of that, smiles and laughs at his own expense because he believes whatever joke was made about him is true. And Shinsou, made up of all his tired righteous anger, does not stand for this one bit. He’s brutally honest and even more observant [having a quirk that requires knowing how to pick people apart makes such things an inevitable], and he sees Denki’s self-sacrificing tendencies for what they are: not stupidity or recklessness, but a profound desire to be enough, if even just for a moment. And that’s something Shinsou can understand, because all anyone has ever done is look at him and see villain the way they look at Denki and see moron. It’s subtle, the way Shinsou goes about approaching Denki, the way he lets Denki see parts of him he religiously hides from everyone else. And it’s slow, because Denki is observant, yes, but he also never thinks that someone is purposefully trying to show him things, trying to let him become something more than a stranger or a colleague. But Shinsou is patient, if anything, and he coaxes Denki into realizing, in order to spare the delicate pride Shinsou has spent all his time at UA, with Aizawa, building and protecting. He wants Denki to say it first, to extend friendship to him with the same beaming smile he offers to everyone else. And Shinsou takes it quietly. And their friendship isn’t much to others because it continues just the way Shinsou started it: quietly. Their friendship lives in the hours between midnight and 4 a.m., when no one else is awake but them, when the two of them are drowning in their own inadequacies, unable to sleep when they don’t even think they can breathe. It’s a silent kind of friendship, the kind where they sit together in the dark, breathing in synch, without saying a single word, without any questions. They learn a lot about each other in those silent hours. They learn how the other cries, how the other watches the stars like they’re something to be envied, understood, how the other seeks comfort in linked pinkies and brushing bare ankles. For a long time, from its start at UA to their careers as pros, they continue like this. Seeking silent companionship in the dark. Until Denki, washed in pale dawn light, all glowing gold and soft edges, pinky linked with Shinsou’s, looks at their hands, at the rising sun, and softly says, “I love you.” And Shinsou, for all he lacks in transparency with others, is a clear as glass right then, lavender and remnants of starlight as he whispers back, squeezing Denki’s pinky with his own, declaration of his own in the words, “I know.” 

[my-mt-heart]

Hi, I am back! I see you are still writing our scenario asks for us! I think this is so great because it is nice to see what other Caryl lovers are thinking in their heads. :)

I know you are busy. I had one that came to me and wanted to ask you. I hope it is interesting and challenging enough for you. Please take all of the time you need!

Okay scenario ask time! Carol finds out that Daryl has somehow learned a little of the Cherokee language. And she is happily curious for him to teach her a couple of words or sayings. The setting, the time frame, is up to you. I just want to see them connecting in another language and seeing what you come up with because I like your imagination. ☺ Gracias!

Welcome back, o.g.! Greatly appreciate you bearing with my schedule. Luckily with the holiday, I had a lot of free time to work on this right away:) That will not be the case going forward lol

Disclaimer: I’m not Cherokee. I don’t speak Cherokee. I had to look up useful phrases in Cherokee. Also, I hope my very subtle diss of the French language doesn’t offend anyone. Nothing against it personally. It’s just not very Daryl Dixon, is it? :P

Daryl and Carol pass Connie and Kelly as they walk down the street. Carol smiles in greeting. Daryl signs “hello.” The sisters each smile and sign back before continuing on their way.

Carol: You know, I think it really means a lot to them that everyone’s learning to sign.

Daryl: They’re part of what we’re buildin’ here. Deserve to feel comfortable.

Carol: Well, you initiated that. You should be proud of yourself, Daryl. That couldn’t have been easy for you.

Daryl: Pfft. What’s that ‘sposed to mean?

Carol: It means learning a new language is hard. Especially for someone who would rather sit by himself and not communicate at all.

She smirks at him, letting him know she’s teasing.

Daryl: Hey. Sign language ain’t the first language I started teachin’ myself.

Carol stops in her tracks.

Carol: Really?

Daryl: You don’t gotta look that surprised.

Carol: Well, which one?

Daryl keeps walking.

Carol: Daryl! You have to tell me!

Daryl: Forget it. Wouldn’t believe me anyway.

Carol rushes to catch up.

Carol: Come on! Don’t make me guess.

Off Daryl’s teasing silence.

Carol: Spanish?

Daryl: Nah.

Carol: Not French…

Daryl: Nope.

Carol puts her hand on his shoulder, signaling him to stop and look at her.

Carol: What then?

Daryl: Cherokee.

That throws Carol for a loop, but only for a split second. The more she thinks about it, the more it makes sense.

Carol: Huh.

Daryl: Only know the basics.

Carol: Teach me.

Daryl: Siyo.

Carol: Siyo?

Daryl: Mhmm. Means “hello.” Wado.

Carol: Wado…

Daryl: That’s “thank you.”

He chews his lip while considering the next one. Suddenly his expression turns very serious.

Daryl: Gvgeyu'i.

Carol tilts her head, stumped.

Daryl: Gvgeyu'i.

Carol: Gvgeyu’i.

Daryl can’t stop smiling at her.

Carol: What? What does that mean?

Daryl: Nothin’. Just wanted to hear you say it.

He picks up a steady pace again, trying to hide his blush. She follows him.

Carol: It’s something dirty, isn’t it?

Daryl: Oh, yeah.

Carol bats him on the shoulder playfully before looping her arm with his.

[thelastspeecher]

Pirate AU - Shore Leave

A coupla times this week I randomly got inspired to write some Pirate AU stuff.  And I got some good news yesterday, so I decided I’d post the stuff I wrote.  Like a gift to myself, that kind of thing.

So here’s some more Pirate AU content, but most importantly, some Pirate AU Stangie content.  Plus a bit of bonus Shermie content.  Enjoy.

(For context, this takes place a few years after this ficlet.)

——————————————————————————————

              “Thanks for watching the kids, Maria,” Stan whispered. “You can head home.”  Maria got up from the kitchen table.  On her way out, she tsked at Angie.

              “You know better, mija.  Be smarter and faster next time.”

              “Of course, Maria,” Angie said.  Maria shook her head disapprovingly one last time, then left.

              “Sit down, you gotta get off your feet,” Stan instructed his wife.  Angie obediently took a seat at the table.  Stan sat next to her.  “Angie.”

              “It’s a good thing I’m pregnant,” Angie said jovially.  Stan scowled.

              “Then we must be defining ‘good thing’ differently,” he growled.

              “If I wasn’t pregnant, I wouldn’t have been able to delay ‘em hangin’ me,” Angie said.  “Without that, you ‘n the crew wouldn’t have rescued me from the clink in time.”

              “You got caught pirating!” Stan snapped.  “You were about to be hanged!  Yeah, you were able to delay it this time, but next time?” Silently, he thanked whatever deity he believed in that day that they had come back from the rescue mission late enough the kids were asleep.

              Don’t want ‘em to see their parents fight. And judging by Angie’s already frustrated expression, this was definitely going to be a fight.

              “There won’t be a next time.”

              “You’re damn right.”  Stan met Angie’s eyes squarely.  “‘Cause you’re giving up piracy.”  Angie’s eyes flashed with anger.

              “You have no right-”

              “To what?  Want my wife safe?  Want my kids to grow up with both parents?  Angie, I can’t- I can’t live like this anymore!  I can’t watch you go to sea, knowing that you might not come back.  I love you too damn much to let you keep throwing your life away like this!”

              “This is the first time I’ve been caught,” Angie said, but her voice lacked some of the bite it had earlier.

              “Now that it’s happened once, it’s gonna happen again.”  Stan reached out and took ahold of one of Angie’s hands.  He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, feeling the thick scars from years of piracy.  “There are some injuries that, when you recover from ‘em, you’re never the same. You’ve had a lot of those.  It’s already started catching up with you. You know that.”  Angie looked away.

              “I…”

              “Give me a single reason you can’t leave piracy.”

              “You know my reasons.”

              “They were reasons you had when you first started. But they don’t matter anymore, Ang! Your name – your real one – got cleared. You’ve got a family and a home. You’ve got money.  Give me a reason that still applies.”

              “I…”  Angie looked down at the floor.  After a moment, she sighed.  Without saying a word, she got up and walked away.

              Shit.  Did I overstep?  Stan started to get up.  No. He sat back down.  Give her a bit of space.  You know how she is.  When a few minutes had passed, Stan couldn’t hold himself back any longer.  He followed her outside.  In the light of the full moon, he could see her talking to Dan. He walked over.

              “Thanks fer savin’ me,” Angie said quietly.  “Not just- not just tonight.  All those other times.  I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t fer you.”  Wordlessly, Dan enveloped her in a hug.  “Take good care of her, Dan,” Angie said, her voice cracking with emotion. They broke apart.  Dan ruffled Angie’s hair, nodded at Stan, and began to walk down the road that led to town.

              “What was that about?” Stan asked.  Angie’s shoulders shook.  “Ang, is everything all right?”

              “No!  I’m- I’m pregnant, I’m sure it’s twins again, I was almost hanged tonight, and I just gave up everything I spent most of my life buildin’ up!” Angie snapped.

              “You…”

              “Dan’s goin’ to run Sweet Viola fer a few months before easin’ her out of the game.”  Angie’s head drooped.  “This pirate king is hangin’ up her crown.”

              “Angie.”  Stan tilted Angie’s chin to look into her eyes.  Eyes the color of the sea.  “Thank you.”

              “You never thank folks,” Angie mumbled.

              “That’s how you know I’m serious.”  Stan grinned.  “And you’re not giving up all the shit you spent so long on.  You’ve still got me.  You’ve still got the kids.  All five of ‘em.”

              “No, darlin’, it’s definitely goin’ to be six,” Angie insisted.

              “What makes you so sure?”

              “A woman knows.”

              “If you say so.”

              “That’s no way to talk to yer captain.”

              “You just gave up your ship,” Stan pointed out. Angie looked away.  Stan wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  “I’m just kidding, babe.  You’ll always be my captain.”

              “Damn straight,” Angie muttered.  “By the way, I might be givin’ up piracy, but I ain’t givin’ up thievery.”

              “Good,” Stan said.  “I’m gonna need your help to keep the shop stocked.”  Angie managed a soft laugh.  The two stayed outside.  Their home was atop a seaside cliff, from which they could see the dark ocean reflecting the pale moonlight.

              Angie buried her head in Stan’s shirt, crying, as her ship disappeared over the horizon for the last time.

-----

              They walked past a shop with a number of nice dresses in the storefront window.  Promptly, Danny and Daisy made a beeline for it, cooing over the fancy fabrics.  The whole family was in town to run a few errands.  Stan glanced at his wife.  Angie wasn’t happy she had been dragged out of the house, but Emmett refused to go anywhere without her.

              “Mama, look!” Danny said excitedly, pointing at the dresses.  Angie forced a smile.

              “Yes, dear, they’re very nice.”

              “You should get it!  It would look so pretty on you!”

              “She’s got a point,” Stan whispered to her. Angie sighed heavily.

              “It would be nice to have some more clothin’ options.  I noticed the other day that I don’t have many dresses.”

              “What are you talking about?  You’ve got plenty!”

              “Yes, fer this!”  Angie gestured to her enormous baby bump.  With how big she was getting, Stan had finally begun to agree Angie was likely right, that they were having twins for a third time.  “But after I give birth?  Most of the clothes what ‘ll fit me were fer workin’ on the ship.”

              “So, something that a nice housewife wouldn’t wear,” Stan said.  Angie nodded. “Well, want me to treat you to somethin’ nice?”  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “I don’t think even you can steal a whole dress in public without bein’ caught, darlin’.”

              “I wasn’t gonna steal it.  I was gonna buy it.”

              “Buy it?”  Angie put her hands on her hips.  “Who are you and what have ya done with my husband?” she asked, aghast. Stan laughed.  “It’s prob’ly expensive.  I’m fine.”

              “After the kids are born and you’re back to normal, I’ll get you somethin’ fancy, okay?” Stan said.  He held out his arm.  Angie took it with a smile.

              “All right.  If ya insist.”  She leaned in to talk quietly.  “Darlin’, in all seriousness, yer okay with buyin’ somethin’ rather than stealin’ it?”

              “Ang, I haven’t done much crime ashore.  Only small stuff I know I can get away with. I didn’t wanna risk getting caught and leaving the kids all alone while you were at sea.”

              “…Right.”  Angie sighed again.  “I keep forgettin’ how little I’ve been on land with you ‘n the kids.”

              “You’ve got plenty of time to catch up on everything.”

              “Yes.  Since I’m now permanently on shore leave.”  Angie raised her voice.  “Girls, leave the dresses alone, we have to go to the market.”  Reluctantly, Danny and Daisy abandoned the dresses and ran back to their parents.

              “Papa, I wanna piggy-back ride,” Daisy whined.  From his perch atop Stan’s shoulders, Emory blew a raspberry at his older sister.

              “Emory’s got littler legs than you do,” Stan said. Daisy crossed her arms.

              “Emmett’s walking just fine!” she argued, gesturing at Emmett, who was holding Stan’s hand.

              “What have we talked about?” Angie asked patiently. Daisy pouted.

              “Being a good big sister,” she muttered.  Angie ruffled her hair.

              “Don’t worry, honey, when we get to the market, you can do some more pocket practice,” she cooed.  Daisy’s eyes lit up.  She nodded. The family continued walking down the street, Danny and Daisy running ahead eagerly.  Stan grinned cheekily at Angie.

              “You’re getting lazy, having the kids pickpocket for you,” he teased.

              “I’m too pregnant to be quiet and get away fast,” Angie said.

              “Fair.”

              “I’m glad that even if yer not willin’ to do much crime lately, yer not extendin’ that to the kidlets.”

              “It’s a lot easier to brush off a six-year-old taking something than a grown adult.”

              “Mm, true enough.”  Angie smoothed the fabric of her dress.  “Once I’m shipshape, I’ll get to restockin’ the shop, darlin’.”  She smirked.  “I’m damn fine at sleight of hand.  Not to mention, no one would accuse the sweet housewife of larceny.”  Stan chuckled.

              “I knew I married the right woman.”

              “Mama, what’s larson?” Emmett asked abruptly. Angie smiled at her son.

              “A grown-up word ya don’t need to worry ‘bout.”

              “Like ‘damn’,” Emory said helpfully.  Stan and Angie grimaced.

              “…We should probably work on cleaning up our sailors’ mouths if we wanna avoid attracting attention,” Stan said quietly. Angie nodded.

              “Agreed.”

-----

              Shermie walked up to the unassuming house.  A large sign outside read “McGucket’s Marine Antiques”.

              This is the right place, then.  Good.  Being a merchant, Shermie had to spend a lot of time away from his family, so he made sure to bring back souvenirs from each trip.  This trip, to a small town called Gravity Falls, had been woefully bereft of potential souvenirs.  As such, he’d been relieved when a local told him about the store on the edge of town full of fun and sparkly things.

              “Ma’am,” he said politely to the woman sitting on the porch, supervising two toddler boys playing on the front lawn.  On either side of her was a basket holding a young infant.  The woman looked up at him curiously.  Recognition flickered in her eyes.  She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, one of the infants began to fuss.  The woman quickly began to soothe the infant.                 Shermie ducked into the house.  The room he was in looked like a proper shop.  Shelves lined the walls, groaning underneath the merchandise.  Some larger items, like a rusted anchor, were set on the floor, with price tags that seemed far too high to Shermie.  Two young girls in the corner giggled to each other as they picked through a box on the floor full of even more small items.

              “Welcome to McGucket’s Marine Antiques!” a voice boomed. A familiar voice.  Shermie’s eyes widened.  He turned.  Behind the store counter was a face he hadn’t seen in over a decade.

              “Stanley?” Shermie croaked.  His little brother gaped.

              “…Shermie?”

              “Stan, what are you- how- you-”  Shermie ran his hands through his hair.  “The people in town said the man who ran this store was named Stan McGucket, not Stan Pines.”  Stan grimaced.

              “Yeah.  Uh…” Stan looked over at the girls in the corner.  “Danny, Daisy.”  The girls looked up.  One had the distinctive Pines nose.  “If anyone comes in, go get your ma and have her handle the customer.”  The girls nodded.  “All right, Shermie, come with me, I’ll answer all your questions.”

              “You better,” Shermie mumbled.  Stan pushed open a door located behind the counter. Shermie followed him into the house proper.  The living room they walked into was cozy and nautical-themed, full of décor that looked like it came from a ship.  Stan gestured to a couch.  Shermie sat down.  Stan sat in a chair across from him.

              “The people in town said this place was run by Stan McGucket because it is.”

              “But how-”

              “I’ll tell you everything, but first, what do you know?” Stan asked.  Shermie raised an eyebrow.

              That’s…interesting.  Stan’s careful dodge reminded Shermie a lot of how his brother would construct lies as a teen.  He would ask what someone knew, then build his lie around that information.  Asking first allowed him to avoid contradicting something known to the person he was lying to.  Hopefully he’s not lying to me now.  I’ve fallen out of practice seeing through Stan’s lies.

              “You were captured by pirates over a decade ago,” Shermie said, deciding to take Stan at face value.  “At some point after you were captured by pirates, Stanford disappeared at sea.”  Stan nodded.

              “Yeah, that’s right.”  He sighed.  “Ford actually caught up to the ship I was captive on.  I got free in the fight, but Ford…he…”  Stan looked down at the ground.  “Well, I didn’t see his body, so I’m holding onto the hope that he’s still alive.”

              “Stan…”

              “The people in town know me as Stan McGucket ‘cause that’s my name now,” Stan continued, talking over Shermie.  “While I was captured by pirates, one of them decided he liked my name and took it.  I didn’t like the idea of sharing a name with a pirate, so I took my wife’s last name.”

              That smells like a lie.  Shermie’s brain caught up with what Stan was saying.  Wait, what?

              “You’re married?” Shermie asked.

              “Yeah.  You saw Angie – my wife – outside.  At least, I hope you did.  She said she was watching four of the kids out there.”

              “I…”  Shermie kneaded his forehead.  “Okay. Now I need to know how you met your wife.”

              “After I escaped from the pirates, I decided to stay at sea to look for Ford.  I didn’t- I didn’t wanna come home without him, y’know?”

              “Yes, I do,” Shermie said quietly.

              “I managed to get a spot on board a merchant ship where her brother, Lute, was first mate.  He was looking for her after she got captured by pirates.  Eventually, we found the ship she was on and rescued her.”

              “You…you rescued your future wife from pirates?” Shermie asked, dumbfounded.  Stan nodded. “Why am I not surprised?”  Stan smirked slightly.

              “We both stayed at sea as merchants,” he continued, “and fell in love pretty quick.  After we had the first set of twins, I decided to move ashore with ‘em. Angie, she, uh-”  He laughed quietly.  “She decided to keep sailing.  Even after we had another set of twins.”

              “Really?”

              “What can I say?  I married a free spirit.”

              Makes sense Stan would find someone like himself.

              “When she found out she was pregnant for the third time, though, we had a long talk, and decided that she’d move ashore with me permanently.  I like having her close by.”

              “I’d imagine having her help with the kids would be nice as well.”

              “Eh.  We’ve got some former crewmates in town that love watching the kids,” Stan said with a shrug.  “That’s why we settled here.  With that help, keeping track of the kids wasn’t what I was concerned about.  I missed my wife.”  There was something more, though.  A haunted look lingered in Stan’s eyes.

              “You were worried about her safety,” Shermie said. Stan looked away.  “I can’t blame you.  It’s dangerous to be a merchant.”

              He’s already lost his twin to the sea.  Of course he doesn’t want to lose his wife, too.

              “Yeah, well.”  Stan cleared his throat.  “I’ve got Angie on shore with me now.  We’ve got six great kids.  Life’s pretty good.”

              “Yes.  I can see that.  Mom will be relieved to hear you’re fine.”

              “She’s gonna show up within a week of you telling her,” Stan mumbled.

              “Can you blame her?” Shermie asked.  Stan shook his head.

              “Not after having my own kids, no.”  The door opened.  The woman from outside, who Shermie now knew to be Stan’s wife, Angie, poked her head into the room.

              “Darlin’, should I be plannin’ on an extra person fer dinner?” she asked.  Shermie tried to hide his surprise at Angie’s strong accent.

              “No need,” Shermie said, getting up from the couch. “I need to be going back to my ship before long.  But before I head out, I should do what I came here to do.”

              “What’d you come here for?” Stan asked, getting up as well.

              “To buy something for my kids.”  Shermie raised an eyebrow.  “Might I be able to get a family discount from my little brother that disappeared for ten years?”  Stan sighed heavily.  “If I get a good deal, I might forget to mention you to Mom for a few days…”  A twinkle appeared in Stan’s eye.

              “Make it a week, and I’ll see what I can do.”

              “Deal.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ahhh I just had an idea, so if you don’t mind me requesting a songfic, how about Nagito with the song “Are You Bored Yet?” by Wallows? It just gives off his v i b e s to me. ~ ⚜️

Oh yeah b i g vibes! ..........

What's wrong? You've been asking but I don't have an answer How come? I'm still thinking, let's pretend to fall asleep now When we get old, will we regret this? Too young to think about all that shit And stalling only goes so far when you've got a head start

“Huh? What are you doing?”

“Untying you, what does it look like?” You huffed as you cut the ropes that kept Nagito restrained in the dining hall. Once he was free, you put the knife back in your pocket and helped him up. “No way am I leaving you here all night. Kaz and the others are just being ridiculous-”

However, you were cut off when you heard him laughing, and you noticed the tears that pricked his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, [y/n]...I’m glad you’re seeing how insane they all are.” He smiled widely. “Treating me like a prisoner? When all I’ve done was try to spark a little bit of hope in everyone?”

You were quiet for a few moments, before you decided that it was too late for this kind of talk. “Yeah leaving you in this dusty place to starve is insane. C’mon, let’s get some fresh air.”

His grin never left as you took his hand, leading him out of the abandoned buildin--the very place where the party that ended with a grisly murder was held. 

Fortunately, there was no one outside, as everybody seemed to have gone back to their cottages or were still exploring the new island.

Even though you didn’t understand this “hope” Nagito was obsessing over, you still loved him and wouldn’t let them treat him this way. Of course, what he did to Teruteru was sick and twisted, but he wasn’t a murderer. If nobody else believed that..then you did.

Nagito was grateful you were on his side, even if you couldn’t fully see things from his perspective. You were the break he needed from his cycle of bad luck--where everyone he was close to died horribly.

Until the day you both died, in a natural and peaceful way, there’s nothing that’ll ever make you leave him.

At least..that’s what you believed.

'Cause we could stay at home and watch the sunset But I can't help from asking, "Are you bored yet?" And if you're feeling lonely you should tell me Before this ends up as another memory Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie? Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie?

“You’re too sweet, [y/n]..letting me stay here. But..if you ever wanna leave this island, you can always use that knife on me. I don’t mind.”

“Just hush.” You frowned, before taking some drinks out of your pocket, including Blue Ram, which you knew was your boyfriend’s favorite. As you sat beside him on the bed, you handed it to him. “Enough with the “stepping stone” crap. If I wanna leave this place, it’ll be with you.”

Time after time, he struggled to grasp the fact you genuinely loved and cared for him--but he wasn’t like this when you first arrived at all. He’d never go as far as suggesting that you killed him.

Maybe it was the killing game’s pressures causing him to break down, or maybe he was just distressed over the constant cycles of bad luck he suffered all his life.

Either way, you hoped to remain the “outlier” that’ll change his ways of thinking for the better.

You opened your drink, taking a swig before looking out the cottage window, gazing at the sunset. Then you felt Nagito lean his head against your shoulder; you smiled and kissed the top of his head...only for your heart to sink at his next words.

“Are you bored yet?”

“What?” You blinked in confusion.

“If you’re bored of me..scared of me..feel lonely even when I’m clinging to you like a parasite, just tell me. I won’t mind.” He sighed. “A wonderful and shining beacon of hope like you shouldn’t force themselves to put up with this filthy human being anyway.”

Sighing, you put an arm around him. You knew what he was trying to do--distance himself because he still felt unworthy of your love, and he expected you to turn against him, too, after seeing how he acted in the trial. He was just waiting for you to say you hated him.

But you never will.

Feels like I've known you my whole life I can see right through your lies I don't know where we're going But I'd like to be by your side If you could tell me how you're feeling Maybe we'd get through this undefeated Holding on for so long 

“Nagito..you’re not filthy. And I’m not forcing myself to do anything. If there’s one person here who still gives a damn about you, it’s me. That hasn’t changed since the moment we started dating, has it not?”

“..........”

“Listen.. don’t pull a stupid stunt like that again. I don’t want you throwing your life away like that in the name of “hope” or whatever..I don’t wanna lose you.” You mumbled, wrapping both arms around him now. “I know you’re scared, I know you’re tired of all the bad luck. It’s okay to tell me that. But we’re gonna get through this nightmare together, okay? You’re not gonna deal with this alone.”

In response, he just smiled and nuzzled his face against your neck. “I can’t fathom how you still find worth in someone like me, but..I’m...I-I’m happy you do..”

You could feel your skin growing damp, but you sighed softly and rubbed his back, hushing him. “You know I love you, Nagito, right?”

“Mhm, and..I-I love you and the hope shining in you.”

Cause we could stay at home and watch the sunset But I can't help from asking, "Are you bored yet?" And if you're feeling lonely you should tell me Before this ends up as another memory Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie? Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie? 

[overwatchworks]

Blackwatch Week: Plan B

Genji hated when they had to go to plan B. That always meant that things were going to shit, that people had been killed. Of course, plan B had never actually failed them, but it still made him antsy. He never doubted his skills, nor that of his team, but people made mistakes. People slipped up. People died. And Genji wasn’t about to let himself be one of them.

“Rally to my position, I need all agents back. Now!” Reyes shouted over the comm, Genji glancing to Jesse at his side. The cowboy shrugged one shoulder, then pressed a finger to his comm to confirm their compliance. 

They were crouched behind a few crates, still undetected by the Talon agents flanking most of the Blackwatch team’s positions.

“Ya ready?” Jesse asked with a wink, Genji side eyeing him coolly.

“Are you?”

Jesse laughed under his breath darkly, spinning Peacekeeper around his finger and thumbing back the hammer. Genji shifted his weight and clenched his fingers tighter around the shruiken he was gripping. Things were about to get dirty.

“How many?” He murmured, Jesse peeking out to grab a headcount.

“I reckon there’s ‘bout twenty. More heavily armoured ones than not.”

“That’s all?”

“Don’t ‘that’s all’ me. That’s just in this room. You’ll get yer fair share.”

“Hmm. Alright, winner gets shower privileges for a week.”

“Make it two an’ I’m in.” Jesse countered. Genji smirked under the mask and flexed his hand with a nod. 

They didn’t need words to know when to launch from behind their cover. Genji knew exactly when Jesse would raise his gun and fire, and Jesse knew just when Genji would strike his way into the middle of the enemy to distract them. They worked as a fluid team, practice and skill showing with every calculated movement, every counter shot and every kill. They’d done this countless times before. 

Genji whipped out his katana when he saw Jesse drop back to reload, cutting through each Talon agent with measured strikes. Blood glistened on his armour, but it only added to the crimson already highlighting his frame. The room fell into an eerie quiet after Jesse shot one last time, his revolver still smoking as he made his way over to Genji.

“That’s twelve for me.” He hummed with a grin, Genji raising a skeptical brow.

“Funny, but I seem to have counted thirteen myself.”

“We’ll call it a dual effort, how’s that?”

“Whatever you say, cowboy.” Genji scoffed with a slight teasing lilt to his voice. Jesse moved to the entrance of the room without further adieu, motioning for the cyborg to go first.

“After you.”

“How very courteous of you.” Genji deadpanned, stepping past the cowboy and his ridiculous grin. 

They moved down the hall cautiously, staying close to one another and keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. Footsteps echoed ahead of them, and Genji slowed to a stop. They were coming from an intersection in the hall, though it was too dark to make anything out, even with his enhanced vision. Genji felt Jesse start to move again after a few moments of tense silence, and he followed. 

They reached the intersection and both backed up against opposite walls, checking the corridors. Jesse nodded, Genji straining to see anything that could lead to danger.

“Which way do we need to go?” Genji inquired, keeping his voice low while Jesse leaned his head to the side, listening to his comm.

“Uh, left.” He replied, Genji frowning.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, left leads ta the front ‘a the buildin’. Reyes is there.”

“If you get us killed, gunslinger, I will hunt you even in the afterlife.” Genji hissed, crouching and running down the left hallway.

“Aw, don’t be like that darlin’.” The cowboy chuckled, following Genji and keeping his gun held defensively at his side.

Genji suddenly held up a hand, head tilting at a slight noise behind them. Someone shifting their weight. A soft click. Jesse heard it too, from the way his stance went rigid.

“Son of a bitch, not again!” Jesse shouted, booting the grenade away from them and grabbing Genji’s arm. 

The ninja was yanked to the side before the explosion blasted his hearing away, and he stumbled, cursing. Jesse rolled to the side, Genji shaking his head and trying to focus on the cowboy’s face. His lips were moving, forming sounds he couldn’t process. Something was wrong. Jesse seemed fine, trying to tug Genji back to his feet, hands on his shoulders, shaking him. The cyborg blinked hard, a sudden, pounding headache flaring behind his eyes. He couldn’t move his right arm, and it was hard to breathe. 

Jesse was talking to him, brows furrowed low over his eyes. Was that concern? Fear? Genji couldn’t tell, couldn’t process it. He looked down at his body to see why it wasn’t obeying him, noticing little flashes of electricity jumping between the nodes and joints of his prosthetics. He shook his head slowly, flexing his left hand. It was fine.

“—Nji. Hey, come on! Can ya hear me?”

“What...?”

“We gotta m—Shit!” Jesse cut himself off as a bullet streaked past their position. 

The cowboy grabbed Genji’s arm and slung him over his shoulder, the ninja’s head lolling with the movement. He didn’t understand what was happening, didn’t know why that explosion had only affected him. It was like everything was in slow motion, his internal processes not doing a whole lot for him at the moment.

“Damn, didn’t know EMP’s would effect ya like that...”

Oh, so that’s why he wasn’t working. 

His whole body was tingling, pins and needles where his nerves connected to the sensors of his prosthetics. It was a strange feeling, but it was a feeling in them nonetheless.

“Jess...”

“Hang on partner...”

Genji felt them tilt a bit, Jesse ducking under something and sliding the ninja off his shoulders. He hit the ground gracelessly, the fingers on his prosthetic hand twitching minutely.

“Alright, hey. Hey, ya still with me?” Jesse asked, taking Genji’s face in his hands and looking it over.

“‘M getting so...Some feeling back...” Genji slurred, piecing together words slowly. He groaned and tried to force his legs to move, getting rewarded for his efforts.

“Listen, ya gotta hurry, or I gotta carry ya outta here. But I need ya coverin’ my back, so can ya please hurry?” Jesse murmured, voice carrying a note of distress. Genji glared, flexing his left hand and curling the arm up.

“Sure Jesse, why don’t I just completely reverse what this EMP did to me real quick. It’ll just take a second.” He gritted out sarcastically, albeit slower than he would have liked.

“At least ya got yer snark back...”

Genji hissed as his legs clicked painfully but moved the way he wanted them to, the rest of his senses sharpening in increments. Jesse helped him stand shakily after a few prolonged moments, gun in one hand and eyes darting around the hall.

“Ya good?”

“Good enough.” Genji bit out, shaking his arms out and repressing a groan at the spike of pain in his head. Jesse didn’t look convinced, but Genji stood up straighter to prove his point. He tried to flick some shruiken into his hand but failed, and he growled in frustration.

“Fuck it, I don’t need them anyways...” Genji growled, pulling his katana from it’s sheathe and lowering his stance. Jesse pursed his lips, then motioned with a little jerk of his head to start moving. The ninja followed him, stumbling a bit as he walked, and that only made him more angry. What use was he if all the enemy had to do was throw some pulse bomb at him and render him completely unable to move? 

Gunfire started up as they passed into a foyer, though it wasn’t aimed at them. Their team of Blackwatch agents were surrounded, Reyes in the center fending Talon agents off with precisely aimed shots. Jesse began shooting, and Genji immediately grabbed his wakizashi in order to deflect any oncoming fire once the enemy realized they were there. 

That moment came not a second later, a few of them turning and shooting at the two of them. Genji stood in front of Jesse protectively, deflecting with some difficulty.

“I can’t hold them off like this, get behind something!” Genji shouted over his shoulder, Jesse immediately moving. Genji ran to the side and scaled a wall when he saw the gunslinger was safe, pulling himself up to a raised platform and crouching in order to survey before striking. He flipped his katana to his left hand, not fully trusting the prosthetic one to work with him yet. 

Taking a steadying breath, Genji calmed his mind just enough to feel the power of his dragon. It was slight, most of it out of reach, but he only needed a bit. He could work with just a sliver of the power he should have possessed for now. 

With a low growl, Genji lept down into the fray, katana slashing through one Talon agent after another, none surviving the sure swipes of his blade. He let his previous frustration and anger fuel him, that ever present rage held in his chest boiling and adding to the brutality of his attacks. 

The ninja heard the sound of shotguns closer now, and he made his way through the veritable sea of enemies to join the rest of the team. Jesse had somehow gotten to his side in all the chaos, shooting over Genji’s shoulder as he cut down another agent. Genji deflected a few errant bullets with his katana, Jesse reloading and stepping back into the ring of Blackwatch agents as he did so.

“Heya boss! How’s it goin’ fer ya?” Genji heard Jesse call through the din of gunshots.

“Oh, you know how it is. Everyone seems to love us.” Reyes yelled back, Jesse laughing. Genji rolled his eyes at their banter, then backed up to join them.

“I hope you have a plan of getting us out of here, Commander.”

“Of course I do, it’s called Plan B!”

“Sounds fantastic.” Genji muttered under his breath, head still feeling dizzy from the EMP. He’d have to talk to Dr. Ziegler about this.

“We got everyone here? Yeah?” Reyes shouted when they had finished off the last of the Talon agents for the time being. Genji looked around, noticing that a few people were missing, and he had a feeling they would stay that way.

“Alright, let’s move before they come back.”

Genji jogged after the commander along with the rest of the agents, noticing that Jesse was staying close to him. He turned his head slightly, about to say something when one of his knees buckled beneath him.

“Kuso—!”

“Woah there, darlin’.” Jesse murmured, catching his arm before he could fall flat on his face and slowing. Genji struggled to get his feet back under him, eyes narrowing in frustration.

“Do I seriously have to watch out for EMP’s now? How the hell did they know to throw that at me?!” He hissed under his breath. 

Jesse pursed his lips and shook his head, unable to give an answer. Genji huffed an angered breath, shaking Jesse’s hand from his arm when he could stand properly. He didn’t like any sort of physical contact when there were others around, especially since it was there to keep him standing, of all things. 

Pathetic. 

Genji glared as he picked up his pace once more, the gears turning now that he had asked himself that question aloud. Who would possibly know an EMP could work on him? Sure, he didn’t look completely human, but why go out of the way to disable him and him only? Why not just use a regular grenade and kill two birds with one stone, literally? 

He internally shook his head, leaving those questions for when the mission was over and he could actually focus. The Blackwatch team burst through the doors of the building they had been caught up in, everyone automatically shifting and looking to corners and high places for potential enemies. It was quiet though, too quiet, in Genji’s opinion. Jesse caught his eye, obviously thinking the same thing, the silence being broken by Reyes.

“Stay close, I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Commander, drop-ships comin’ in.” Jesse called, Genji looking up to see more than enough hostiles incoming. He gripped the hilt of his katana, suddenly glad that they were going with Plan B. No one was going to be left to know Blackwatch was there, and Genji was going to let some anger out. --

By the time the Blackwatch team was seated safely on their extraction ship, Genji was splattered with blood. His senses were all back to normal, and he flexed his crimson-coated prosthetic hand without trouble. Funny that the effects all wore off as soon as the fight was over, he thought bitterly. Jesse took his hat off with a sigh next to him, and Genji glanced at the cowboy.

“I don’t think that grenade was a coincidence...” He murmured softly, Jesse’s brows furrowing.

“I was just thinkin’ the same thing, partner. Might wanna tell Gabe ‘bout this.”

“And have him sit me out?”

“Better than gettin’ yerself killed. Talk ta Angie ‘bout it, see if she can fix it.”

Genji glared at the metal plating on the floor, hands balling into fists. He hated feeling so helpless and out of control of his own body, hated not being able to trust himself to get out of a fight alive. But Jesse was right. Better to stay alive, even if it meant more hours spent under machinery and needles in the medical bay.

“Hey, relax a bit, hon. It’ll be alright, we’ll fix this.” Jesse whispered, taking two of Genji’s fingers with his own and giving them a little squeeze. The ninja forced himself to calm down, eventually giving a reassuring squeeze back. Jesse grinned a bit, then let go, knowing Genji got uncomfortable if there was the chance someone might see. 

The gunslinger slouched down in his seat and put his hat over his face, settling down to nap on the way back. Genji watched Jesse’s breathing even out, the steady rise and fall of his chest oddly relaxing. In little moments like these, Genji could believe it when Jesse said everything would be okay. ~~

[philosworkbench]

Solopreneurs: What’s your fastest Shower,  Ship, Succeed story?

Maybe this term already exists. I have no idea. But here’s what I want to talk about: I had an idea for a new class while in the shower yesterday. I announced I was doing it today. It starts in two weeks. In six weeks, I’ll have a pretty clear picture of how successful it was. That seems like a turnaround that solopreneurs are uniquely positioned to create.

Backstory: My COVID vs. Career Crisis

Disclaimer: My family and I have been extremely lucky during COVID. No one has been sick and no one in my immediate family works in healthcare or has a job that requires going in-person work. So, I’m using the term “crisis” with a tremendous amount of privilege. Still, it decimated my industry and how I used to earn a living.

That all being said, when COVID hit, I lost four months of work in one week. It created a huge void in my life. My entire career was built on live: live training and facilitation using IMPROV. I curled up into a ball and started questioning everything I had done in my life. What did it mean? What was at the center of it. About 6 months and 100,000 words (written only to myself) later, and I had the conceptual model for the PLAY Polarities. It was exhilarating. I had an idea of value that I could share with the world. Something of mine that I could sell myself. Only one problem. I didn’t devise the product. Okay, cool. Here’s a model. Everybody has a model. No one pays for an idea. They pay for an application of an idea.

So, simultaneously as I began telling people at PLAYdates (then TDCocoa) about the idea, I began thinking about ways to productize the insights I had assembled. What’s the coaching package? What’s the training program? Etc. 

I think about monetization a lot. Between my cozy white male Gen X upbringing and my life in improv, I didn’t get a lot of good ideas about how to make money happen. As a kid I was told by parents and guidance counselors: “just get a general liberal arts degree and you can do anything.” I even once suggested to my stepdad that I might get a degree in public speaking (which turns out would have been hugely valuable as I spent a lot of time as a presentation skills coach). His reaction?

“Why would you get a degree in how to say something instead of getting a degree in what to say.”

Somehow he thought that was a bad idea but didn’t bat an eye as I selected my major in philosophy. PHILOSOPHY.

From there I went into improv where the general approach to everything is, “let’s just help each other out and everything will be fine.” That’s why the only financially successful improvisers are the ones you recognize on TV or the ones with good day jobs. “It’s a mug’s game.”

Don’t get me wrong: improvisation can help you immeasurably as an entrepreneur. I just didn’t know it and never applied it that way. So, consider it a “mod.” Improv doesn’t necessarily help “out of the box.”

So, I did what I always do and why I’ve devoted myself to facilitating transformational self-improvement -- I started reading books about it. How does one become an “entrepreneur?” How does one “monetize” their intellectual property into a service? How does one “productize” their services into clearly defined products?

That brings me to a nice hot shower.

SHOWER: Surprising Yourself with the Big Idea

I’ve been racking my brain about lightweight products to monetize the PLAY Polarities. I turns out that it’s not enough to say, “I do coaching, training, and consulting.” People don’t just start throwing money at you. You have to clearly identify problems and try solving them.

So you discovered a model that seems to organize individual, team, and organizational improvement priorities. Big deal! Who needs that? Do they know they need that? What are they going to do with that knowledge? How can it make or save them money? I.e. WHY SHOULD THEY PAY YOU?

I’ve been beating my head against the wall about this for weeks. And, without exception, each monetization strategy I come up with occurs to me in the shower. It just pops into my head.

“Eureka! I should do this!”

Disclaimer: My spouse and I are watching the TV show, Eureka, right now. That may be a factor.

So the idea for this new class hit me. I would lead a live, virtual class, reduce the rate in exchange for participants letting me record it and turn it into assets for an asynchronous eLearning. 

Okay, but if I’m going to do that, before everyone gets too busy returning to the “real world,” I should do it QUICKLY.

“Like April?” says my Shower Daemon.

“Yes! April!” I reply. And then immediately face anxiety. How do I do that?

SHIP: Lessons from Volunteer Carpentry and Seth Godin

Something else I had to learn on my journey to unexpected entrepreneurship? Execution. Yes, my new company is as an assassin.... ON THE DANCE FLOOR! (Jumps up and down, shakes hips, trips, falls, farts.)

I had to learn what Charan and Bossidy talk about in their book, unsurprisingly called Execution. So you have great ideas? Great. What will you do about them? You plan to sell? How will you sell? How many dials? How many LinkedIn messages? When? 

Execution is the lifeblood of business. It’s almost too simple to recognize it’s profundity. Yes, duh, to do something, you must, you know, do something. When I tell you that that simple truism has sabotaged most of my professional life, believe me. 

As the Apostle Paul says, “The good that I would do, I do not. The evil that I would not do, I do.”  

Or, in the Revised Matt Elwell version, “The work that I wish I would do, I procrastinate about. The desk that doesn’t need to be reorganized for the 80th time, I reorganize again. This is, in fact, the perfect day for it.”

As I said in a PLAYdate this afternoon:

Most people get to the starting line and GO! I get to the starting line and keep trying to redraw the perfect starting line. Job one for me is cultivating the habit of running imperfectly.

So, against every instinct, I announced my class on today’s PLAYdate using a slide I created while the participants were in their breakouts. 

There are two places. The first was Habitat For Humanity. I was no carpenter, but my home church had a long history with HFH and I loved the few mission days I spent with them. I learned a lot about handling wood and framing out a house. I learned how to “talk to the nail,” making small adjustments to how you struck the nail to encourage it not bend as you encountered resistance. As someone who was pretty much written off in gym class as an irredeemable fat nerd, this was something physical that I felt competent about.

However, because I felt competent, I started wanting everything I did to be perfect. To garner the compliments and validation that meant so much to me as I started. But no. that positive reinforcement started waning, and people instead started looking at me with their heads cocked to one side. I was taking too long.

That’s when I learned a saying I’ve tried to remind myself of my whole life:

“You ain’t building a piano!”

(This was said to me in deep southern New Jersey, so it was more like, “Yuh-aint-buildin’-uh-pian-urr!” And then someone threw a piece of scrapple at me. True story.)

That simple sentence reminds me that I have made a habit, perhaps a compulsion, of fretting over details most people won’t notice. I’ve often excused this by telling myself that I’m an artist and therefore, I’m not just filling orders.

If you’re prone to excusing your own poor time management in favor of artistry, consider this. Are you making a statement about your art with what you are doing, or making a statement about your fear with what you’re not yet doing? Are you really saying something with the detail you’re burning hours on to get “just right” or are you allowing yourself to avoid something that really does present the greater artistic challenge. 

As Stephen Covey observed, “avoid being ‘right in the thick’ of thin things.”

That’s my Habitat for Humanity story. My other influence, which is a much shorter story, is Seth Godin. You can still get his ShipIt Journal for free on his blog. And if you have something worth doing, I would suggest using his guide to help you do it. In Godin’s characteristic manner, he helped me realize how much of my failure to execute was motivated by fear. 

If you’re terrified of failing at something, your brain will make sure you don’t, by making sure you never really try. Basically, you brain exists to keep you alive. We’ve evolved to not do things that can endanger our aliveness by experiencing and avoiding pain. So, if you’re afraid of failing, you are experiencing a kind of pain. Brains hate that noise. QED: you never quite get around to it.

So when I’m not channeling the kindly old South Jersey carpenter who said, “you ain’t building a piano,” I channel Seth Godin who calmly informs me through his immaculate demeanor and trademark spectacles, “just get it shipped.”

Telling people about my class today was me “throwing my cap over the wall” to make sure I did what I said. I’m already scared thinking about it. But now it’s a fear of not getting it shipped, not of not getting it perfect. That’s the fear I want.

SUCCEED: Coming Soon? 

In improv we have a “rule of threes.” It’s integral to comedy:

Offer something

Add something else which, by its very following of 1, begins to create a possible connection/story

Add a third thing which, by association with the other two things, clarifies the connection and resolves it or launches us on a trajectory

Depending on that third offering, you either have a joke or a scene, but either way, you have a good chance a comedy.

Either way, the third thing is where we start seeing “the product.” The thing thing is the embodiment of “oh, I get it....” For example:

If Player A nods to Player B and says, “Cat” and Player B nods back and says “Dog.” Then a lot can happen.

Player A can say, in a business like manner. “Are any other animals joining us at this business meeting?” Immediately, a lot becomes clear. These people are playing animals. They’re doing some kind of animal business. Hilarious.

Player A can say, “Oh, I love dogs! Isn’t the vet here, great?” The two make small talk while their pets are getting treatment. Eventually, they fall in love. (Player A and Player B. Not the pets. Or Do ThEy!?)

Or, Player C can enter and offer a warm, “Hey, Dog!” to Player B and sit down next to them. Then, they can turn and nod in the direction of Player A with a curt, even cold, “Cat.”. Player B can respond happily, so grateful to be acknowledged. Player A can respond to the frosty greeting in a way that makes Player C visibly shiver: “Helloooooo, Mouse.”

No matter which of those scenes interests you, they would all interest someone. In an audience of 150, at least a few would walk out the door of the theater that night and say, “that one was my favorite. That group was so good. Let’s come back here soon!” 

Three beats makes a product. Three beats is something people will buy, buy again, and tell their friends to buy. Three beats is success.

As I embark on this journey of Shower-Ship-Succeed, I think about what I need to get to my third beat. And what occurs to me is a clear picture of what success looks like and a practical understanding of what I need to do in myself, in my actions, in my systems, and in my relationships to make that success happen. 

Some people might argue (and they might be right) that you shouldn’t get to ship without having a clear picture of success. And maybe they’re right. But don’t let that stop you from starting the creation or “shipping” process. In fact, I’m finding that all three of these states are iterative. You don’t so much go linearly from one to the other.

You have your “shower moment.” Hopefully, you listen to it and start to work on it. You start getting ready to “ship.” I call that whole process “shipping,” not just the putting-it-on-the-shelf-with-a-price-tag part. As you do that, I believe you get a vision for what this will be and who will like it and then you can start asking why they would pay for it, and that can start you on this cycle. 

That might be a question that sends you back to the shower for more.

What about YOUR Shower, Ship, Succeed story?

I started this post with a question and then all this stuff just flowed out. (Hooray, my gift of making first drafts five times longer than they have to be!)

Here’s what I want to know: Have you ever, as a solopreneur, or just a creator of anything, noticed a rapid procession from initial idea (Shower) to making something (Ship) to having a desired result (Succeed)? 

What was your fastest time?

What helped you get it done so fast?

What slowed it down?

What did you have to overcome -- in the project and in yourself -- to get it done?

Now that I’ve said all I could possibly say, I’d love to hear your stories!

[miraculouslyminty-blog]

Bionn Halthcharon’s School’s Out Journal

This. This is best journal so far. This is when i finally nailed down his character. yes he is a rude boy but there’s way more to him than most people think. and he writes like he talks, natch for MH doll logs. Also the lil journal taglines gonna be above the read more

Readin' this without my permission just shorts my circuits!

September 16th

My motherboard's gonna kill me. I'm serious. How am I gonna explain to her that the slip I'm bringin' home is because I panicked and weaponed up 'cause someone tapped me on the shoulder. I didn't know who it was at first and honestly it's a reflex. Ya see, back when I lived and protected Motor City, you didn't know who was gonna ambush ya. And yeah, I apologized and we're totally cool now, I guess, but Momboard's not gonna care about that. She's just gonna dwell on the fact that I came home with a warnin' slip and no matter how many times I tell her that it's under the rug now, she won't listen. She'll just yell at me until I storm off or if she gets tired of shoutin' at me (which I doubt she will. Momboard's scary.).

I can just imagine it now. I don't wanna put up with that today. Maybe I'll just throw the slip away during lunch or hide it. But then again, it needs to be brought back with her signature. This is a problem.

September 23rd 

Man, I can't wait until the last day of school gets here. It means I'll (hopefully) be seeing less of Heath Burns. Don't get me wrong, he's okay I guess... but he's just not the type of manster I'd normally hang out with. He's just got somethin' about him that always seems to irritate me. Seriously. He doesn't even have to speak to do it. All he has to do is walk next to me and suddenly I get this look on my face. Like somethin' smells bad. And he's always trying to invite me to go with him and his friends for some "bro time", whatever that is. I haven't exactly grasped slang yet. Well slang that normal teens use. 

Sure his friends are nice and all even if I've only talked to 'em a couple times but it's Heath I can't stand. I don't know why. And I bet on the walk to the lockers after Home Ick he's gonna ask me to hang out with him. This is gonna be a long day.

September 25th

Dad wasn't home when I woke up. I guess he went to the die-ner. He's been goin' to that die-ner every Saturday morning since we've moved here. And I had to know what kind of secrets that place was holdin' because why would my dad go there every Saturday? So I left a note on the table and went down to the die-ner. It was pretty early in the morning, so there weren't a lot of monsters out. I made my way down to the die-ner and I was feeling pretty tense. I'm not sure why. But instead of findin' some weird secret, I found Dad and a bunch of mad scientists talkin' and eatin'...pancakes?

I know my Dad's kind of well.... kind of a nerd but I really wasn't expectin' this. So I turned to leave before one of his friends (I think) said "Hey Grave, isn't that your kid?". Boy, did that make me stop in my tracks. I never felt so mortalfied. I was pretty sure I was rustin' where I stood. And Dad noticed it. Ooh boy did I wanna go offline so badly. But he invited me over and had me sit with him and his friends. Dad's friends are actually pretty nice and super funny.But it's still super weird since I didn't even know Dad could act like a regular monster. And I say that because well... he's Dad. Normal ain't somethin' that runs in the family.

And we ate somethin' called "banana scary pancakes". That's the first time I've had them and I've gotta say, they ain't half bad. And someone from school was there. What was her name again? Frankie? Anyways, she must've been with her dad too. I didn't talk to her much but she seems like a decent ghoul. Dad seems to respect her dad. And they were talkin' about the plans they drew up when it came to buildin' us, which was super embarrassin'. But ya know...

It's strangely comfortin' to know that I'm not the only person that was built in a lab.

October 1st 

Jeez, I'm starting to come down with a bad rustin' problem. You forget to oil your joints and it comes back and kicks you in the behind. I really hope no one notices... Shelley's been trailin' behind me in between classes. I know it's her anxiety and that's fine, but I know she's concerned about me. It's a really bad problem right now since I'm movin' soooo sloowly... no offense to zombies, they're nice monsters, and now I know how they feel when they go from place to place. I can't count how many times I got shoved around in the hallway on the way to Biteology. Oh wait, yes I can. 22. 22 times! I mean, it took a while to get get there but at least Heath kept a seat warm for me. Oh great... his fire puns are startin' to rub off on me...

He spent pretty much all of class talkin' to me and I just muttered responses. I wasn't in the best mood and I'm pretty sure he caught onto that. I mean I don't mean to be a jerk to the guy, it's just that you'd be in a bad mood too if you were rustin' over. And after a very long time (or it felt like that) Biteology always drains my battery and havin' to slowly walk to my locker wasn't helpin' things. I would have teleported there but that module rusted over. Shelley was still in class and I was just gonna hafta grin and bear it. But then I just heard someone say "Need help?". So I turned around as fast as I could (which wasn't very fast, again rust. Ugh.) and there's the ghoul from the die-ner.

Normally I'd turn that down because I'm super prideful but in this case, I needed the help. "Hey I saw you at the die-ner the other day! Your dad's friends with mine?". I would've shrugged. "Yeah I guess.". "You're Bionn right?", she asked. I nodded. "And you're Frankie? ...Uhhh... did I get that right?", I asked. She nodded. Things were quiet for a while before she spoke up. "Uh so, how do you like Monster High? Since it's your first year here and all.". "Oh uh... it's great here! Yeah." I ain't the best at talkin' to other monsters. It kinda sucks, pun unintended. She smiled and said it was good. We continued to walk until I saw Heath, putting his book away.. "Hey, there's my locker!". We stopped. Frankie waved. "Hey Heath!". He turned around and well, he flamed up. I rolled my eyes. Honestly, it's kinda sad. I can't tell ya how many times he's done that whenever a ghoul walked past us. And all the times he's set my books and homework on fire.

So while he was chattin' up a storm with her, I just grabbed what I needed to grab out of my locker and go. Though I did let him know he was gettin' out of hand on the way out. Good thing my elbow joints hadn't rusted yet. Can't really claim I elbowed him gently though.

October 7th 

There's been this talk goin' around school about a huge fight between a couple of monsters named Clawd and Spectra. From what I can figure out there was somethin' about a rumor about this Cleo ghoul breakin' up with her boyfriend and Clawd gettin' together with her. I dunno, it sounds kinda stupid, ya know? Maybe it's because I don't get it. Shelley thinks it's dumb too. And people have been talkin' about it all day, not to mention it got super bad during lunch. Like I couldn't eat anything because that's all they could talk about and it was hard-drivin' me up the wall. I wish I could turn my hearin' off at times like this. Don't ruin lunch like that y'all. Just don't.

And ‘sides, why would you believe somethin’ ya read on the Internet?! It's called a rumor for a reason! It ain't that hard to analyze the story! Oh riiiigghhttt, I forgot, the whole teenager thing. Heh heh... whoops. But ya know, he more I think about, the more I can't help but be I dunno the word here... curious? Yeah. Oh, what am I sayin'?! I shouldn’t be focusin’ on this! But at the same time, I just wanna know what's goin' on, ya know?

October 13th 

Eeugh, there's nothin' I hate more than bumpin' into Circutroy. Well, that's ain’t true. I hate a lot of other things but runnin' into my cousin is really high up there. It's pretty much the same thing with him. "You're outdated.", "Did you stop to recharge on the way here? You know how faulty batteries get get when they start to age.". “Blah blah perfect blah blah.” I swear, with how much of a jerk he is, he could give that Tora-somethin' ghoul a run for her money. Or milk I guess 'cause she a werecat 'n all. Though I ain’t much better myself. But at least I don't go around insultin' other monsters for not some stupid standard tripe.

I don't wanna talk to that lousy battery muncher ever again. 

October 16th 

Oh man, I can't tell if this is one of the best days I've had or the worst. Okay so lemme start off by sayin' Mad Science was cancelled today. All thanks to Heath. Basically we got some lab tech that was gift of a former student who's now a famous mad scientist. It was huge and kinda box-shaped and painted black except for a really shiny metal button about half way up on one of its sides. And just when the showcase was gonna start, ol' Hackington got called to the office. Why? Dunno, wish I could tell ya. Anyways before he left, he said “All right me little Pandoras – nobody touch the box while I’m gone.” And of course, the second he was gone, you-know-who had already blazed a trail to the box thing. At the time I just facepalmed because Heath + ANYTHING = disaster. I was waitin' for that snake-headed guy to turn him to stone or somethin'. (I think his name's Deuce. Or was it Domino? I don't know.) Or for someone to stop Heath before he made a fool outta himself.

Yeah, turns out no one wanted to do anything. We were just gonna let him fool around with a fancy box thing. What- what even is unlife? "Uh hey, you shouldn't be messin' with that.", I said, even though it wasn't gonna stop him at all. "Relax! I'm just checking it out!", he responded. And I facepalmed. Again. Anyways, the hothead was insistin' nothin' was gonna happen and he pushed the button. The box thing made like this whistle noise. It was high-pitched and annoyin'. Still, it caught him off guard and he stopped fiddlin' with the thing. I'm pretty sure everyone stopped holdin' their breath too. Er, anyone who could breathe anyway. Heath thought it must've been funny or somethin'. 'Course he'd find that funny. And then, HE WALKED BACK OVER TO THE BOX AND LEANED AGAINST IT. I just- I just... I'm pretty sure my processor stopped functionin' at that point in time. I'm also pretty sure I went through like, 5 stages of disbelief even though only one stage exists. That's how bad it was.

"See? I told you nothing was going to hap-" and that's all he could say before the box thing sprouted tentacles and ate him. At least, I think it ate him. I wasn't payin' that much attention. And there were like, the sounds of splashin' and somethin' bangin' against the box and Heath was yellin' for help. A second after, Hackington had come back and figured out what went down when he was outta the room. Thank goth that thing came with a remote because the second that thing was pointed at the box, Heath came flyin' outta it covered in gunk. I'm not gonna lie, I was havin' a really hard time tryin' not to laugh the entire time. Yeah I know, it's mean. But my family kinda spreads chaos and probably like it. It's not like I can help it, it's kinda in my codin'. Anyways we had to leave after that. Headless Honcho Bloodgood let us know that, yeah, he's fine. He's just gonna need a few days off. I mean, I kinda feel bad for him, but not that much.

I'm just glad me and my locker can get some goth-danged peace for once!

October 23rd 

Man this day started off bad and ended up worse. Like this day was just bad. And not normal bad, Friday the 13th bad.

It all started earlier this morning when Pat-ick was havin' a fit over somethin', erggh. And thanks to his wailin' fit, he ended up turnin' one of Dad's projects into a fish creature.... thing... A fish creature that ended up eatin' my brand new gamin' console. So I now I gotta scrape up the money for it again. And the fish thing ended up latched onto my head somehow. I was so angry this mornin' I didn't even notice I had it on my head until I got to school, where a few monsters pointed it out. And laughed at me. And made fun of me for the entire day even when I got the thing off my head. Ugh...

Just to get away from the mockin' I hid out in the Gym. Should I have done that? No. No I shouldn't've. But I was gettin' really annoyed and I didn't wanna come home with another paper from the Headless Honcho cause I got into a fight. And I guess I must've zoned out or somethin' because the next thing I knew, the casketball team was in the Gym practicin' for somethin' comin' up. I dunno what for nor do I care all that much. Anyways, I go to leave the Gym and it turns out I was stressed out enough to get the bleachers on the ceilin'. Thank goth I teleported 'em back to the right spot before they hit the ground. I start to leave again and somethin' hits my foot. It's the casketball thing. I grab it and turn around to see the team's just starin' at me, waitin'.

"Hey dude, could you pass me that?", the werewolf asks. I think his name's Clawd. I've never really talked to him and the only times I've seen him is around lunch in the halls. Still, my heart component jumps for joy when he calls me dude. It feels like I'm bein' recognized as a manster and not just some weird ghoul. I nodded and threw it back to him. A little too hard. Whoops. Still he catches it without tumblin' over (must be that werewolf strength I’ve heard ‘bout) and tells me I've got one heck of a pass. Whatever that means. I think it's a sports thing. Anyways, the werewolf tells me that I should try out for the casketball team and that tryouts are gonna happen soon. Sports ain't really my thing. I've never played any but watchin' 'em just bores me, ya know? But I decide to be nice to him and tell him I might tryout sometime that before turnin' to leave. "Hey, you should grab lunch with us sometime! We can show you the ropes and stuff.", he suggests. "You know, just hanging with the guys?" I smile and tell him I might just take him up on that. The werewolf guy smiles back and says "Alright man, catch you later!" before they start practicin' again.

The day wasn't too bad after all, I guess. How could it be one I'm startin' to become one of the mansters?

[odderancyart]

Some long lines I’ve wanted to use but never thought up a good story to put them in

"No problems. I'll pay. I've got over 10 000 here." Lust smirked at the others' completely bemused gazes. "What? Didn't you know that me and Pap have money? He might not be in the Royal Harem yet, but he's good at what he does. He's quite popular and get paid a lot. Especially with his stamina and agility. And I, well, people pay to see me dance. I am one of the best pole dancers  Underground, after all. Probably on the Surface too. I often perform at the court, and that often ends very well."

"Pfa. Try ta intimidate Boss if ya want to. Good luck. It's a fucking bad idea tho'.  My bro's way too cool to be taken down by some mutts." Sans' eye flamed up in bright red as one of the dogs threw himself at him with a snarl. His grin grew wider, more intimidating. A Blaster took form behind him as he stepped out of the way, easily dodging the canine. "That's even more of a bad idea. Now fuck off if y'all still want to live to see the mornin'. I'd dust ya, but Boss wouldn't like that. Some shit about 'loyalty' and 'buildin' up trust' And don't run off complaining to Undyne, I'm sure she'll  like her elite unit being defeated by a sentry and a novis in the Guard. Not that he'll be a novis soon. He'll be second-in-command in no time. He's just too cool."

"I've had enough, Papyrus! You can't keep treating me like a child anymore! I'm an adult. I'm your older brother.  I am so tired of being treated like I'm a fragile kid who can't handle reality. I know about your conversations with Alphys, Papyrus. I've heard you. I know you don't think I can handle the reality of being in the Royal Guard. But you're wrong. I know perfectly well how it is. I know reality perfectly well. I raised you on the streets, for star's sake. Do you think that was a child's play? I did so much you have no idea about. I gave up everything for you. I try to see the best in everyone, yes, because *that's how I coped*. I couldn't let myself loose the hope that things would get better when we were out in the streets. I'm not naive, I'm not stupid, I'm not blind. I know the truth about this world a thousand times better than you do. So stop treating me like I'm a babybones. I've ignored it. I've kept believing that if I proved you - and everyone else, because I know everyone else think so too - wrong, you'd realize that I'm not, but apparently not. And I’ve had enough. I can make my own decisions. I can handle whatever the universe throw at me. Because I've done it my whole life. So stop. Please. Just... stop."

I need to do something with these.

[decorous-biohazart]

Just A Crime Scene

The night air hung with a cool tinge over Phoenix Nest, the moon casting a silver sheen over the concrete and glass of the camp. The barracks were silent with empty halls as it’s residents had poured into the main street of the camp along with others as festivities roared. But atop the barracks, it was a far different atmosphere. 

A lone figure stood at the edge of the roof, staring down at the jovial crowd below. Her blonde hair hung just passed her jawline in uneven ends as it gently swayed in the breeze. Her eyes that normally sparkled with embers of amber were now dull and distant. Just a walk down a few flights of stairs or a trip down the elevator and she would be surrounded by her friends and allies in celebration, but her feet felt heavy on the rooftop as if they had taken root in the cold stone. Her fingerless-gloved hands gripped her shoulders as if holding the pieces of herself together. 

The door behind the figure creaked on worn metal hinges as another figure entered the scene. It was a slim yet well built man with an Australian hat, longish dirty-blonde hair spilling out from beneath it. Faded jeans, a leather vest, and worn blue shirt with rolled up sleeves clapped gently in the wind as his boots crunched against the gravel that covered the roof. His blue eyes scanned the roof for a moment before they finally rested on the figure. He did not approach the woman, almost as if she were a wild animal ready to strike. 

“Yer missin’ out down there.” The man broke the silence in a thick Australian accent, speaking with an almost joking twinge to his voice, attempting to receive a response out of the woman with no avail. At the realization he had gained no ground the man rolled his eyes, throwing his arms out at his sides before the clapped against the sides of his legs. 

“C’mon Cell, talk t’ me. What’s goin’ on in there?” he persisted. 

The woman’s head turned slightly at the call of her name before it shifted back onto the crowd below. “I’m just... Not feeling the party life. You know I’ve always been like that.” she responded meekly. 

The man scoffed with a shake of his head as he took a couple steps forward. “Well g’day! My name’s Dingo an’ I’m th’ guy you’re talkin’ like you just met! I’ve seen you red as a ripe tomato on th’ shoulders of some poor bastard before the music even starts. This ain’t like you, Cell.” Dingo’s tone shifted from a sarcastic manor to more of hints of concern, his accent drying up. “We just won a huge fight out there an’ didn’t lose a single bloody man. If that ain’t worth celebrating I dunno what is.” 

“Well you know sometimes I feel like we shouldn’t have to be fighting in the first place!” Cell snapped, causing Dingo to take a step back. “You ever think of that? Maybe sometimes coming back from the Field doesn’t make me want to drink and party.” she continued before a sigh escaped through her nose as her shoulders deflated.  “Besides... I’m too lightweight to enjoy alcohol that much anyway.”  Dingo put his hands on his hips as he paced forward to Cell’s side, his gear clattering with each step before he came to a stop with his feet at the edge right next to Cell’s. 

“Y’know, nobody ever said that was a bad thing. But these people are celebratin’ ‘cause they know just how rare of a thing this is. Everyone who walked out that gate came back in one piece-” 

“Well maybe they didn’t all come back in one piece!” Cell cut the Australian off as her feet shifted to face the man. The redirection of her posture spilled the pale moonlight onto her skin and illuminated her features. Or at least that was how Dingo perceived it for a moment; the moon was up behind her as opposed to in front of her but yet she still looked so pale. Her hands were shaking and her eyes were heavy as if each were tied to an anchor as she tried to keep her eyes open. 

“Jesus, Cell, what-” Dingo began. 

“Not everybody comes back from the Field in one piece, Dingo.” Cell’s voice dripped with acid and cracked like her chapped lips. “I can only handle seeing so much blood, so much rotting flesh, so much gunfire before it starts to eat at me. And you know what happens when you get distracted? What’s out there literally eats you. So you try so hard to stay on your guard because the slightest mistake can get you or someone else killed and that only makes it harder.” Cell’s hands moved erratically as if trying to grab each word out of the air and force it forward before she turned on her heel, eye contact broken with Dingo now only to feel his gaze burning into her back. 

“So you come home and try to sleep only to have that thought rotting in your head that you might get called back out there again just to do the same thing. Somehow the friends you stand next to on that battleground that you’d give your life up for just feel more and more distant. As soon as you get back through the gates they got places to go, people to see, paperwork to do and you’re standing there with blood-soaked hands just wanting to hold someone else’s so yours aren’t the only ones stained. 

You come back looking like a crime scene without the chalk or yellow tape and all people can do is look at you like a hero. They don’t know what you did, who you killed, or who you left behind and they love it!” The woman’s voice was a reservoir of emotion that had long needed to overflow but never found the opportunity. She never wanted the notoriety of success, the thrill of combat, or even the relief of seeing all that accompanied her return alive. 

“I just... I don’t want to go back to not feeling human and instead like a slab of meat to give that fix for the primal desires of who or whatever has me. That the people around me are more than just husks that I’ve started pulling mental strings with to get them thinking I’m more to them than the occasional service.” She finished, her hands balled into fists at her sides as they gripped her cargo pants, trying to control the shaking. 

Dingo, however, hadn’t moved. Cell’s gaze turned back over her shoulder to meet her ally’s. Her dull gaze began to show flakes of the orange in her eyes again, but instead of warm ambition they carried the cold sparks of her soul. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Cell asked, almost as if caught off guard. 

“Like what?” Dingo questioned back. 

“Like I’m some kind of animal you just found on the side of the road waiting to be put out of its misery.” she answered. 

Dingo’s hands fell from his hip with a sigh as he turned and sat down on the edge of the rooftop, his hand subconsciously playing with the locket that hung around his neck while the other rested on his left knee. 

“Y’know somethin’, I had a talk just like this when Sharpy came rollin’ back into camp all that time ago. We hadn’t seen him fer three years an’ he comes proper walkin’ in like he never left. I’ve never seen a man keep a straight face like that tellin’ a story like his. Back like he never left and so much of him hadn’t followed him home. Y’know how Decorous did that?” Dingo left the question hanging as Cell’s now mild gaze rested on the man’s features. Clearly not receiving an answer without response Cell paced to the edge of the roof, her legs crossing together beneath her as she lowered herself down to his level and asked, 

“How...?” 

“’Cause we were in that crowd.” Dingo responded matter-of-factly. “’Cause he knew we needed to see him in the best condition he could muster. While he was locked away in that stasis chamber for the first three years of the Fall takin’ a nap we were out here fighting tooth an’ nail to make this place. He was put in a leadership position of what we built like he got t’ miss all the hard work he knew that. At first I didn’t see it, but when I talked t’ him on this very same roof he told me it all. 

He ‘bout knocked me flat with his words telling me how he knew that we went those three years on our own buildin’ this place and he suddenly swoops in and takes the reigns. But I didn’t feel cheated, I felt like I could rest. ‘Cause he could do th’ job better than any of us.” Dingo explained letting go of the locket as his hand rested on his one knee pad, tapping the bandanna with a Phoenix insignia that was tied just above it around his leg. 

“You are th’ best runner we got, and nobody goes a day without knowin’ how hard of a job that is. But they’re down there celebrating ‘cause they know they got you up on those rooftops watchin’ over them like a guardian angel ready t’ swoop down and kick th’ ass of whatever puts ‘em in harms way. As well as myself up there with a crack shot too, of course.” Dingo added the last sentence with a cocky smile and a wave of his hand, warranting an offended scoff from Cell as she punched him in the shoulder, but she couldn’t help but smile. 

“Y’see? They’re down there celebrating ‘cause they know all you do for ‘em. This ain’t a weight you carry alone, because y’ got the rest of us. Decorous with that weird getup of his that I still don’t understand but wouldn’t change, Socket with his lackin’ ability t’ talk to folks without needing bailed out when he says somethin’ outta place, an’ of course an Aussie with a heart o’ gold.” He finished, holding up the golden heart shaped locket with the last line as his eyes fell on Cell again. 

“Life’s a bugger, but that don’t mean it’s one you gotta tussle with alone. Believe it or not-” Dingo’s tone picked up with a quick raise of his eyebrow as his eyes shifted back down to the crowd below. “- I actually came up ‘ere ‘cause they were all askin’ for ya. Y’ got adoring fans and friends all ‘round ya even if y’ don’t always see ‘em. Some people gotta go miles t’ another camp just to see their mates. I’m one of th’ lucky ones that’s just gotta walk down some stairs. I tell ya...” Dingo trailed off as he stared at the locket again for a moment, “Ain’t no better feeling that coming home day after day after it just about killed ya knowing someone’s waitin’ for ya.” Dingo’s smile widened a bit as he placed a hand on Cell’s head, ruffling her hair. 

Cell waved a hand to push his away before rubbing a forearm across her eyes, her smile beginning to become more apparent.  Dingo took notice of his breakthrough before he tucked the locket back in his collar before quickly pushing himself backwards and vaulting to his feet, brushing off his jeans before extending a hand out to the runner. 

“Now c’mon, can’t have the life of the party mopin’ up ‘ere, save the perching for wall duty.” Dingo’s smirk remained as Cell pushed herself up and firmly grabbed his hand, pulling herself up to her feet. 

“Atta girl.” Dingo encouraged as Cell quickly shook her head and hands to release the tension in her muscles. Bouncing on her toes for a moment she took a couple jabs at the air before resting her hands in front of her chest and letting out a slow exhale. 

“Thanks Dingo... I needed that. I just- I guess I lose my way sometimes out there. Thanks for bringing me back, even if I do it kicking and screaming.” 

“Ah, don’t mention it. A shiner from a friend is worth it now an’ again. Just means the Cell I know’s still there.” Dingo joked as he creaked the door open again.

“Does that mean I can punch you?” Cell asked with a smirk of her own as she raised her gaze to the taller man. Dingo chuckled as he bumped his foot against the woman’s backside, pushing her through the door. “Maybe another time, gotta look good for th’ after party.” 

As she vanished into the stairwell Dingo looked back at the empty roof one more time, his thoughts wandering for a moment before shaking himself back to reality. It was a lonely little place and he seemed to have an attraction to it, but the chance to venture forth and find those he called friends in that melancholy state to bring them back to the lively spirits was something he’d do time and time again. 

‘Wouldn’t trade it for the world-’ he began to think to himself as the door creaked shut behind him.

‘Because these friends of mine are the world.’

[rap-contraversy-today-blog]

Lyrical examples of Kendrick Lamar and Lil Pump

This post will show lyrics from Kendrick Lamar’s(talented hip hop artist and lyricist) “How Much A Dollar Cost” and Lil Pump’s(Up and coming mumble rapper) Gucci Gang and show you that lack of lyrical depth of Lil Pump compared to Kendrick Lamar.

[Verse 1: Kendrick Lamar] How much a dollar really cost? The question is detrimental, paralyzin' my thoughts Parasites in my stomach keep me with a gut feeling, y'all Gotta see how I’m chillin' once I park this luxury car Hopping out feeling big as Mutombo "20 on pump 6," dirty Marcellus called me Dumbo 20 years ago, can't forget Now I can lend all my ear or two How to stack these residuals tenfold The liberal concept of what men'll do "20 on 6," he didn't hear me Indigenous African only spoke Zulu My American tongue was slurry Walked out the gas station A homeless man with a semi-tan complexion Asked me for ten rand, stressin' about dry land Deep water, powder blue skies that crack open A piece of crack that he wanted, I knew he was smokin' He begged and pleaded Asked me to feed him twice, I didn't believe it Told him, "Beat it" Contributin' money just for his pipe, I couldn't see it He said, "My son, temptation is one thing that I've defeated Listen to me, I want a single bill from you Nothin' less, nothin' more" I told him "I ain't have it" and closed my door Tell me how much a dollar cost [Chorus: James Fauntleroy] It's more to feed your mind Water, sun and love, the one you love All you need, the air you breathe [Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar] He's starin' at me in disbelief My temper is buildin', he's starin' at me, I grab my key He's starin' at me, I started the car, then I tried to leave And somethin' told me to keep it in park until I could see The reason why he was mad at a stranger Like I was supposed to save him Like I'm the reason he's homeless and askin' me for a favor He's starin' at me, his eyes followed me with no laser He's starin' at me, I notice that his stare is contagious 'Cause now I'm starin' back at him, feelin' some type of disrespect If I could throw a bat at him, it'd be aimin' at his neck I never understood someone beggin' for goods Askin' for handouts, takin' it if they could And this particular person just had it down pat Starin' at me for the longest until he finally asked "Have you ever opened up Exodus 14? A humble man is all that we ever need Tell me how much a dollar cost" [Chorus: James Fauntleroy] It's more to feed your mind Water, sun and love, the one you love All you need, the air you breathe [Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar] Guilt trippin' and feelin' resentment I never met a transient that demanded attention They got me frustrated, indecisive and power trippin' Sour emotions got me lookin' at the universe different I should distance myself, I should keep it relentless My selfishness is what got me here, who the fuck I'm kiddin'? So I'mma tell you like I told the last bum Crumbs and pennies, I need all of mines And I recognize this type of panhandlin' all the time I got better judgement, I know when nigga's hustlin', keep in mind When I was strugglin', I did compromise, now I comprehend I smell Grandpa's old medicine, reekin' from your skin Moonshine and gin, nigga you're babblin', your words ain't flatterin' I'm imaginin' Denzel but lookin' at O'Neal Kazaam is sad thrills, your gimmick is mediocre The jig is up, I seen you from a mile away losin' focus And I'm insensitive, and I lack empathy He looked at me and said, "Your potential is bittersweet" I looked at him and said, "Every nickel is mines to keep" He looked at me and said, "Know the truth, it'll set you free You're lookin' at the Messiah, the son of Jehovah, the higher power The choir that spoke the word, the Holy Spirit The nerve of Nazareth, and I'll tell you just how much a dollar cost The price of having a spot in Heaven, embrace your loss. I am God" [Outro: Ronald Isley] I washed my hands, I said my grace What more do you want from me? Tears of a clown, guess I'm not all what it's all meant to be Shades of grey will never change if I condone Turn this page, help me change to right my wrongs 

Yuh, ooh, brr, brr

Gucci gang, ooh

(that's it right there, Gnealz)

Yuh, Lil Pump, yuh

Gucci gang, ooh

(ooh, Bi-Big Head on the beat)

Yuh, brr

[Chorus]

Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang) Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)

Spend three racks on a new chain (yuh)

My bitch love do cocaine, ooh (ooh)

I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name (brr, yuh)

I can't buy a bitch no wedding ring (ooh) Rather go and buy Balmains (brr)

Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang) Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang) Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)

Spend three racks on a new chain (huh?)

My bitch love do cocaine, ooh (brr)

I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name, yuh (yuh, yuh)

I can't buy no bitch no wedding ring, ooh (nope) Rather go and buy Balmains, ayy (brr)

Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)

[Verse]

My lean cost more than your rent, ooh (it do)

Your momma still live in a tent, yuh (brr)

Still slangin' dope in the 'jects, huh? (yeah)

Me and my grandma take meds, ooh (huh?)

None of this shit be new to me (nope)

Fuckin' my teacher, call it 'tutory (yuh)

Bought some red bottoms, cost hella Gs (huh?)

Fuck your airline, fuck your company (fuck it!)

Bitch, your breath smell like some cigarettes (cigarettes)

I'd rather fuck a bitch from the projects (yuh)

They kicked me out the plane off a percocet (brr) Now Lil Pump flyin' private jet (yuh) Everybody scream, "Fuck WestJet" (fuck 'em)

Lil Pump still sell that meth (yuh)

Hunnid on my wrist, sippin' on Tech (brr)

Fuck a lil bitch, make her pussy wet (what?)

[Chorus]

Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang), Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)

Spend three racks on a new chain (huh?)

My bitch love do cocaine, ooh (yuh)

I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name (brr)

I can't buy a bitch no wedding ring (huh?) Rather go and buy Balmains (yuh)

Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang) Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)

Spend three racks on a new chain (huh?)

My bitch love do cocaine, ooh (brr)

I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name, yuh (yuh)

I can't buy no bitch no wedding ring, ooh (nope) Rather go and buy Balmains, ayy (huh?)

Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang)

[Outro]

Lil Pump, yuh

Lil Pump, ooh

Kendrick lyrics:https://genius.com/Kendrick-lamar-how-much-a-dollar-cost-lyrics

Lil Pump lyrics:https://genius.com/Lil-pump-gucci-gang-lyrics