#inaccurate morse code

[keitaisghost]

[daybreakbloom]

The Regretevator wiki is full of inaccurate info, such as the morse code light translation on the elevator events page, the fact that they call the aspen picture in Birthday Apartment an "image of the infamous birch tree", or the fact that the wiki does not state that Four corners is a game of Simon and instead just acts as if its a random corner picking game. its *incredibly* frustrating.

[unhonestlymirror]

Geto wakes up.

Geto wakes up and feels vibration. Or something like that. The forehead feels the bandage, the head feels strangely empty. Nearby as if a motor is buzzing. Geto carefully opens his eyes.

Nanami leans over him. "Hey you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?"

Or someone like Nanami, because Nanami would never smile that sly and would never wear a frog hat, and would never lost an eye, and would never quote Skyrim while pressing a frighteningly large rifle to the temple of a national - no, international criminal.

I'm finally in hell, decides Geto. I deserved it.

Ijichi laughs somewhere very close.

Only then something in Geto's brain clicks hard enough to realize that he is in the back seat of a car. And he can't move and feel his cursed energy at all because of some kind of technique - no, a barrier? Probably. No thoughts, head empty.

"The last thing you remember?"

Oh, he remembers too many things to forget. Or to be forgotten by everyone around.

"Leave him alone, Nanami. Although I can't boast of such an experience but, in my opinion, it is rather difficult to remember something without a quarter of the brain."

That was quite rude, to be honest.

"Although all managers are taught the art of interrogation and subtle psychological manipulation, Ieiri-san still has a better chance."

Something moves in Geto's stomach. Fear maybe. Regrets. He doesn't want to see Shoko. Nanami was enough.

Something hurts inside because of the mention of Shoko, though. Does she still smoke her cheap cigarettes and use Satoru's glasses as an ashtray?

Gojo.

The car stops. Oh, he must have croaked it out loud. What a shame.

Ijichi finally shows up from behind the front seat. Even if he doesn't have cardinal changes in appearance, somehow he frightens even more than Nanami.

"You want to talk about it?"

No. No, he doesn't. Not now. Dear god, help.

"Stop, you're scaring him!" The fearsome rifle finally disappears but not the cold smirk .

"Well, in vain. Ieiri-san is unlikely to be so polite."

Whatever. Shoko's really a better option.

"You know." Nanami's gaze warms slightly for no reason. "I think Gojo will be fine. Thanks to this rejected by society genius..."

A nod towards the driver's seat.

"...and his amazing technique of exchanging information using blinking and Morse code..."

"Kiss my ass."

"...we learned the password for the Prison Realm and that Gojo spent about several days there. However, we can not free him without your cursed energy, thanks to that asshole Monk Genshin."

"Cubasshole."

"Right. Now, you see, Ijichi and I can't guarantee that you won't try to escape. Also, we are not so good medics to try to take a sample of cursed energy from a user who has it blocked. Thus, now we are going to Shoko Ieiri, like damn captain Wrongel and his team in pursuit of the main prize of the regatta."

"He means trying not to die and go too crazy in the process."

"And being positive. I don’t usually give advice to my former senpais but today, perhaps, I’ll make an exception. Try to look at things positively too. Because your future life - yes, life - is unlikely to be full of joy and pleasure."

"Well, who's between us is intimidating now, huh?"

"Oh, shut up. I'm just trying to mentally prepare him for a class reunion. Not considering his son, though."

His what.

"Ijichi-kun, play something heart-warming."

"Hold on. Crowded House maybe?"

"Perfect, thanks."

"You're welcome."

It would be better if it was hell.

[molotovmetro]

The 141 + König with a s/o who goes non-verbal

Tiny disclaimer: im autistic and have moments of being non verbal during breakdowns etc, so this is based mostly off of my own experience, but if anyone feels like ive said inaccurate or offensive things, please let me know as that would never be my intention. The way I've written this suggests this is a negative feeling (, since thats how i experience it) but I understand that might not be the same for everyone. For some people this might just be a daily or

Requested by @apocalypticseagull

Warnings: mentions of stress and the slightest hint at possible injury, besides that nothing I can think of

M!reader

Ghost

Ghost relates to you. While he wouldn't claim his experience is the same, he gets moments of overstimulation where he wants everyone to leave him alone, and will just stop reacting to people.

When he feels like this, he prefers to sit in his room, either completely in the dark or with only a small lamp on, and have as little noise around him as possible.

If you're in a stress situation, not knowing what else to do to help you, that's what he'll resort to.

He'll take you into either his room or yours, whichever you would prefer, and holds you while letting you get away from all the triggers for a bit. Unless you're dealing with life or death situations, whatever work you have left for the day can wait. Your wellbeing always comes first.

Soap

Soap is a lot more observant than people give him credit for. He's the king of avoiding stressful situations for you whenever he can.

But alas, he can't avoid it every time. Whether you start saying less and less as the minutes go on, or just stop talking suddenly, he notices immediately.

Not that he'd be quick to admit it, but he's got a written list of everything you like, even if it's just something you mentioned in passing. He absutely will use this list to do whatever he can to make you smile and relieve some of your stress.

He'll make sure to find a way to still communicate that both of you are comfortable with. He'll happily lend you his journal to write in, or he'll ask Roach for some lessons in sign language. He'd break his back bending over backwards to make you comfortable if he had to.

Gaz

No matter how often it happens, Gaz still feels a jolt of panic whenever you don't respond over coms when you're on a mission. He almost sags in relief as soon as he hears you hum, or even just hears the crackly static of you pushing your radio's button.

He knows you're a talented soldier and you're more than capable of handling yourself, he still prefers to be near you at all times. What if something happens and you can't tell him? You could be in trouble without him even knowing. He'll, just knowing you're stressed is making him want to reach for you.

He likes his job, likes helping people and ridding the world of danger, but his favourite part of every mission is when you're sitting in the exfil helo after a good mission, and you give him that wide smile he's been waiting hours, if not days to see.

Price

You and Price have been working together for so long, you both know the drill. When he starts to notice you going quiet, he makes sure he only asks yes or no questions. On your side; one click of your radio button for no, two for yes. Throw in some improvised morse code when necessary, and you've got a solid communications system.

Having this system is also a huge bonus during stealth missions, when he can't talk freely without risking being spotted.

He loves hearing your voice, but he doesn't treat you any differently when you can't talk. He'll support you in whatever way you need, without making it feel like he's babying you.

The two of you are a well oiled machine. No matter how stressful the situation, usually you can tell what the other one is thinking just by looking at them. You know you both have each other's back, verbal communication or not.

König

König doesn't mean to make a big deal out of it, and he won't if you don't, but he does worry.

After a situation like that happens once, he commits everything that helps you to his memory, and uses the knowledge to help you the next time it happens.

Even down to the tiniest detail, he'll remember. If you don't like a certain texture or can only stand a certain flavour of drink during moments like this, he's making sure you have everything you need and are as comfortable as possible. Whatever is stressing you will be dealt with by him while you're resting and calming down.

If you want to be alone, he understands and respects that, and gives you the space you need. But if you don't, there's nowhere he'd rather be than by your side.

[gobbogoo]

How Good Can The TF2 Mercenaries Read?

Heavy: PHD-level reading comprehension! ...in Russian. Knows how to read only basic English, mainly what's relevant to his job. Enjoys writing simple messages to the enemy on the bomb cart. (Dear Red, yer dead!)

Scout: Barely literate. Knows basics necessary for children's comics, but gets caught up on stuff like "ch = sh" in words like "machine," or the extra "b" on the end of "bomb." Mostly relies in guess-work.

Medic: Can read and write both English and German, although his knowledge of the prior stems primarily from medical vocabulary. Has to concentrate when reading more dense English texts.

Spy: Can fluently read English, French, Spanish, Morse Code, and several other languages. The most literate of the team by a long shot.

Engineer: Excellent reading comprehension and vocabulary, as well as an understanding of technical writing. Poetry and metaphor fly right over his head, though. If you're trying to say something, just say it! Sticks strictly to nonfiction.

Sniper: Average reading/writing comprehension. Values books both for information/entertainment and toilet paper/kindling.

Soldier: Has a child's writing/reading comprehension (nothing above a single syllable) UNLESS the text is related to military lingo or legal jargon, both of which he will understand but wildly misinterpret. He often gets bored after the first sentence, so he just guesses what the rest of the text is about and then fully believes that guess with 110% of his soul.

Demoman: Slightly better reading comprehension then Sniper, due to a childhood spent studying chemistry, ballistics, Scottish history, and the Bombinomicon that one time. Nowadays, he isn't often sober enough to make out the words, though. Has memorized the blurry shapes of all the chemicals he uses.

Pyro: A weird case. Pyro-Vision Goggles tells us that Pyro perceives written language as variations of "mmmph," however they seem to derive some meaning from this as they're seen reading a newspaper in the comics. Presumably whatever they "read" is different from what's actually written, though, so it's still inaccurate to say they know how to read English.

BONUS:

Pauling: Has fully mastered speed-reading, and spends a great deal of her time writing/reading documents. She's also a huge fantasy nerd, but hasn't had time to read any in years.

Saxton Hale: Has surprisingly sound reading comprehension, but has Bidwell read everything for him whenever possible. Also authors the official Saxton Hale comics through dictation, but never writes any of it personally to avoid liability.

The Administrator: [Classified]

[ytaf-moved]

GIO SPEAKS MORSE CODE??? THAT'S SO COOL!

//yes, he can, uh, I, the mun, don’t, so, apologies if it’s inaccurate. I am relying on a website.//

Gio: “Yes, I can.” .. - # ... / -- --- ... - .-.. -.-- / - --- / ... . -. -.. / - .... .-. . .- - ... / - --- / ... -- .- .-. - / .--. . --

[charmedtenderness]

do flowers exist at night? -chapter five

Chapter Five: Steve Harrington and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night

Pairing: Steve Harrington x OC

Chapter Summary: Once everyone is at the Byers’ household, many issues start to make sense. With everyone working together, the Upside Down may finally be defeated.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Swearing, inaccurate dialogue, Billy is the actual worst if you like him then you’re probably not gonna vibe with this chapter, violence

A/N: The only real joke in this chapter is the title. Enough said. Anywho, I hope you’re enjoying the fic and if you are, it would be awesome of you to let me know by leaving feedback for me! You can find the other chapters here.

~*~*~*~

Perhaps the only thing worse than the monsters was realizing that Steve didn't have a chance with Nancy. Obviously, Annie wasn't going to say that out loud. Not when she could tell from Steve's pacing that he already knew. It took a lot to not say anything to Nancy, but there were more important things than this and if she was going to say anything, Annie was sure it could wait.

What they were going to do about all of this was beyond her. She had a million questions, but she didn't ask a single one. Every time she almost did, she was reminded of how her dad was when he got stressed, which was almost all the time. At the time, it seemed like anything she did would annoy him. There was always something on her mind and there was a time when she would have said every single thing that popped in her head. Except, one day the man got so annoyed that he snapped and told her to shut up.

As that circled her mind, she sat off to the side in the kitchen of the Byers' house, trying to process everything on her own. She had been so close to dying. All of them had. What would have happened if she had? Would anyone aside from her mom care? There were so many things she wanted to do, but she hadn't. It could have been too late and there was nothing she could have done.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump, but she relaxed upon realizing it was just Steve, "Sorry... um, how're you holding up?"

"I'm fine," she said, tugging her flannel around herself, "Are you okay?"

He arched an eyebrow, "Also fine."

"Steve-"

"Don't... you don't have to tell me."

"I wasn't gonna say anything about that," she said, though she stopped when she heard Mike starting to talk about Bob Newby.

While she never got a chance to meet the guy, the idea of anyone being eaten alive by those monsters was horrific. It was something straight out of the horror novels she read to pass the time. Something only highlighted when Dustin started to compare all of this to Dungeons and Dragons. The demodogs, as he called them, were all supposed to be part of some sort of hive mind. A Mind Flayer was supposedly the one in control. Annie knew nothing about the game, but she supposed there could be points made.

Those points finally drew the conclusion that they needed to trap Will somewhere he didn't recognize. That way he wouldn't be able to spy and figure out where they were. The shed ended up being the perfect place.

Annie was focused on helping Max tape up pieces of cardboard together. That was easy and menial enough. Besides, she felt like she had to make herself scarce so Steve could talk to Nancy. Well, it was more like she didn't want Nancy thinking any of those dumb rumors were true. It was obviously over between them. Why Nancy didn't say anything about that to Steve was beyond her. There wasn't time to think about that. They needed to get the shed ready before Will woke up.

Soon enough, it was back to just a waiting game. One that made Annie want to crawl out of her skin. It reminded her of when she was waiting to find out which of her parents got full custody not even a month ago. A decision that she didn’t think would ever make her happy regardless of who ended up with her.

She sat on the couch, staring off into space as Steve swung his bat around.

"Your swing is fine, you know. It's checking your blind spots that you'd wanna look out for," she said.

He looked over, "What?"

"Like earlier... you weren't checking your surroundings."

"Why do I need to do that when I've got you saving my ass?"

She smiled a bit despite herself, "Because maybe I'll slip up."

"Hey," he sat next to her, "Don't think like that. We're gonna be fine."

Annie gave him a look, "I'm not one of the kids, Steve, I know this might not end well."

"Well with that thinking it won't," he commented.

She shook her head, "Sorry, um I just didn't expect to almost die like this. I mean, I always expected some weird shit to happen in Seattle or New York. Inter-dimensional monsters in a small town wasn't what I expected to be the wake-up call."

"For what?"

"That death's inevitable and I've spent the last few months just being miserable and alone," she let out a small laugh, "It just- it seriously sucks like you wouldn't believe."

The lights started to flicker like crazy. Annie was quick to grab her pitchfork from the corner of the room. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. For a moment she was so sure that the room was going to turn into the Upside Down. She all but shrank into herself until the lights went normal again. Everyone was fine. Will didn't know where they were.

A few minutes later and they figured out Will was still communicating through Morse Code. Annie watched as the message was written out in front of them.

"Close gate," they all said together, trying to figure out what it could mean.

Suddenly, the phone started ringing and it wouldn't stop until Nancy pulled it out and threw it to the ground. A sense of dread overcame the room.

"Do you think he heard that?" Max asked.

Steve shook his head, "Phone ringing... that could be anywhere."

However, the screeching in the distance was enough to show that Will somehow knew exactly where they were. The demodogs were going to come back and there was no choice but to fight them. Sure, this time there were more people who could fight than Steve and herself, but there was an army of those monsters and they all knew it.

This was futile, but Annie wasn't about to say that and neither was anyone else. Instead they all stood, and she clutched her pitchfork tighter than ever before. The screaming came from all over and Annie kept an eye on the windows she could see.

A demodog burst in through the window, causing all of them to scream. Only, it was dead. Something had to have killed it, which only caused more questions to circle through Annie's head. She was ready to fight whatever came through that front door as it unlocked and opened. Only, she found herself putting down her weapon when she realized it was just a girl. Someone who couldn't have been any older than the kids she was helping to take care of.

Some things started to piece together in Annie's head as Mike rushed up to the girl, he called her Eleven. It seemed that the girl Steve talked about the night before wasn't dead after all. Though, from how Mike was going up to Hopper, she was pretty there was more to what was going on.

For the pair having moved to another room, she could hear Mike yelling pretty well. She stared at the floor, trying to not think about all the times she could hear her parents fight in that small, New York apartment. Instead, she just watched as the other kids reunited with Eleven.

"So, how'd you find out about all this?" Nancy asked, ripping her from her thoughts, "I mean, Steve obviously told you, yeah?"

Annie nodded slowly, "Yep..."

"That's funny, because when I wanted to tell Barb's parents about all this, he wasn't on board," she said, looking her over.

She shrugged, "Well, was their house flip-flopping dimensions as well, or were you just trying to satiate your own guilt?"

"Wait, what're you talking about?"

"I found out about this shit because I ended up telling Steve about how I was seeing things in my house. He got me out, and we were looking for you, actually. He wanted to apologize to you," she sighed, giving a tight-lipped smile, "And it turns out, he wasn't the one who needed to apologize. I'm new, but I'm not blind."

Nancy's eyes widened a bit before she walked outside. Perhaps it was a little bit much for Annie to say, but she wasn't about to play into whatever Nancy was trying to do. How was she supposed to feel sympathy for someone who so clearly hurt her only friend in this town?

Not that any of it mattered because everyone was talking about splitting up. Joyce and Jonathan were going to take Will to get rid of the part of him that was the Mind Flayer. Meanwhile, Hopper and Eleven were going to go back to the lab and close the gate. That left what was supposed to be her, Steve, and Nancy taking care of the kids. Something that was sure to go very well. Still, Annie wasn't about to go with either of the other two groups. She had no interest in putting herself back in danger and having yet another near-death experience. The ones she had already were more than enough.

Annie stayed in the house, knowing that all she and the kids could do was try to clean up the house. There was a broken window, and it did leave the house feeling cold. Before they did that, though, she went out with the kids to watch as they said goodbye to Eleven.

Steve cleared his throat, "So, uh, it's just gonna be us babysitting."

"Oh? What happened?"

"I let her go. She's helping Jonathan and Mrs. Byers," he sighed, "It was never gonna work. You knew that, though. Sorry I dragged you into all this over her."

Annie turned and looked up at him, "Hey, if it wasn't for you, I could be stuck in that Upside Down crap right now and things would be a lot worse. And, for what it's worth, you've been a good friend too."

"Thanks."

Just like that, it was the two of them with the kids. What they were going to do in the meantime was beyond her. Probably just more sitting around and being prepared for the worst. The kids had their walkies, so if anything happened, she was sure they would find out.

Dustin was wrapping the dead demodog in a quilt, "Hey, can I get a little help here?"

"Um, what're you doing?" Annie asked.

He huffed, "We gotta preserve this. One of you needs to hold this so I can get it into the fridge so we can keep the body from decomposing.

Annie looked at Steve, "You know, if you take this, you get to be the best babysitter. I'll just be mediocre at my job."

"Seriously?" Steve sighed, though it didn't take long for him to relent and just pick up the dead demodog.

While they worried about taking care of that, Annie decided to help Max and Lucas clean up the broken glass. A simple task to keep her from thinking about what was going on. Mike kept pacing until Lucas said something. Sure, she could understand where the kid was coming from, but it was so much safer for all of them this way. None of them had powers, Eleven clearly did. 

Steve walked up to them, "Look, the coach makes a play and bottom line, you've gotta do it."

"This isn't a stupid sports game!" Mike snapped, "Anyways, we're not in the game, we're on the bench."

He nodded, "Yeah... right. Right, and the point is, yep, we're on the bench and there's nothing we can do."

"I could offer a cool theater analogy," Annie said, getting ignored.

"Wait, but the demodogs are a hive mind, they were called away earlier," Dustin pointed out.

That was when the kids started to get an idea that quickly spiraled. Annie looked at Steve like they were crazy. Because they were. If they all died, then what?

She shook her head, "Wait, um, you guys?"

"We could go in here and burn it-"

"Yeah, that's a no," Steve said, holding the dish towel "We promised to keep you shitheads safe so we're gonna stay here on the bench and wait for the starting team to do their job, understand?"

Mike scoffed, "This isn't a stupid sports game!"

"I said, does everybody understand that?!" he gestured with the towel, “I need a yes.”

A car engine was heard in the distance and Max ran to see what was going on. All Annie needed to hear was that it was her brother before realizing that perhaps this wasn't the safest option after all. There was a certain look of concern on her face, and Steve looked at her.

"Hey, I'm gonna take care of this, okay? You just need to stay here and make sure the kids don't do anything stupid. And I mean it this time, I don't trust him seeing you involved with all this," Steve insisted.

Annie opened her mouth to argue, but could only bring herself to nod. If she couldn't even defend herself to that guy a day ago, what good would she be now? And maybe Steve really would fix all this. There was a lot he had done already. They were going to be fine. Nothing was going to happen to the kids, especially Max.

So she watched the best she could through the front door window. That meant she wasn't paying attention to the kids like she should have been. It looked like it was getting intense between the two guys. She reached into her pocket for her switchblade. While she was sure Steve could handle this, she wanted to be ready just in case. Then, Billy pointed at the window and she deflated.

She glared at the kids, "What part about keeping your heads down did you dumbasses not get?!"

There wasn't more time for her to yell because she watched Steve get shoved to the ground and kicked. Her eyes widened and she held tightly to the closed knife in her hand. The door swung open and she moved to get in front of him. She couldn't let the kids get hurt.

"Ah, Harrington's bitch," he shoved her into an end table, "And Lucas Sinclair."

It took a lot to not cry out in pain, but she didn't want the kids to worry about her. She could still move, but hitting the corner of the table made her back ache. And for a moment, all she could do was watch as Billy went right for Lucas. Right as she moved to get up, Steve rushed in and was quick to help her up.

A part of Annie wanted to just go up to Billy and punch him until he was a pulp, but she knew she couldn't do that. Steve would have a chance, though. She let him confront Billy and she stood in front of the kids, fumbling to get her knife open. Though, with Steve getting in a few good hits, Annie felt like he could do it. Until she saw Billy pick up the plate.

"Steve, the plate!" she screamed but it was too late and Billy bashed the plate over his head, causing him to stumble back.

It only got worse from there and all Annie could do was watch in horror as Steve fell to the ground, obviously passed out. Billy started to throw more punches. She had no choice, she had to do something. Steve was dead otherwise. If she could take on those demodogs, surely she could take on some asshole who was beating up her best friend.

In a quick move, she ran up behind Billy and pressed the switchblade to Billy's neck, "Get the fuck off of him!"

He got off of Steve but only to thrash against her to fight for the knife. It was happening in such a blur and she wasn't strong enough to get the upper hand again. She first felt something cut into her cheek and then her back was against the floor. All she could do was scream and try to sink into the floor further.

"You know, I've been waiting for something like this for a few days now," Billy murmured, tossing the knife aside.

Annie kept her eyes shut, unable to say anything as she felt his mouth on her neck. If she could just make herself smaller or do something. There was something hard against her thigh and she tried to slide out, but there wasn't any give. She couldn't do anything. For all she knew, Steve was dead and she wasn't any better off. A stench of cigarette smoke and musk was all she could smell and it made her feel like gagging.

Then, Billy made a confused noise and there was suddenly less pressure on top of her. She opened one eye, realizing no one was on top of her. Max was screaming something, but it wasn't registering. All she could hear was a ringing of sorts. What did register was that Steve was only a few feet away and she crawled over to him.

His face was covered in blood and was already swelling. Still caught up in everything, she tried shaking him.

"Steve? Steve, come on, I need you to wake up for me," she whispered, looking for any signs that he was going to wake up, "Please, I can't do this shit alone, I really need you right now."

Dustin slowly approached her, sitting on the other side of Steve, "Annie, he's just passed out. He's still breathing, see?"

Sure enough, she could see his chest rising and falling, "Right... yeah... you're right, sorry."

"It's okay, we just need you to drive us where we tell you to," he said.

Annie's eyes widened, "We're not going anywhere!"

"Do you really wanna stay here where Billy is? Come on, if you stay calm about this, we can bring Steve along," Dustin replied.

That was all the convincing Annie needed in that moment. Getting the kids and Steve as far away from Billy as possible was the goal. Dustin put a few band-aids onto Steve to try and make her feel better. He offered her one for the cut on her cheek, but she didn't take it. Instead, she took the car keys to Billy's Camaro.

No, she had never driven before in her life, but how hard could it be? She watched Steve do enough of it. Surely she could figure this out on the fly. When she turned the key, the engine roared to life. She just needed to go from park to drive. Except the car was moving without her pushing anything.

"What the fuck, why's this thing moving?!" she exclaimed.

Max looked at her, "Have you ever driven before?"

"No."

"Get the brake, put it back in park. I'll do it," Max insisted.

It didn't take more than that for Annie to be in the backseat so she could be right there with Steve. He had been hit so hard and a part of her worried he wasn't going to wake up. How was she supposed to do all this without him? They were supposed to be co-babysitters. She didn't have a clue about taking care of these kids. Hell, she was letting one of them drive. That wasn’t a hallmark of good babysitting.

She held an ice pack to Steve's head and she felt him stir.

"Nancy?" he murmured, looking at Mike.

Annie breathed a sigh of relief, letting Dustin explain everything. All that mattered was that Steve was awake, probably not completely okay, but he was awake nonetheless. 

Then he looked up at her, "Wait. If you're not driving then..."

Steve was soon screaming for Max to stop driving. It didn't help the situation and soon enough they were all screaming and yelling at each other. Though, they somehow made it to the spot in question just fine.

She took the time to help Steve get out of the car, "So uh, I know we said we wouldn't let them go here, but maybe it's better here? Like it's away from... it might not be a bad idea, yeah?"

"You're bleeding," he said before noticing what the kids were doing, "No! We're absolutely not doing this!"

Dustin walked up to them, "Steve, I know you're upset but a party member requires assistance. Now, you told Nance you'd keep us safe, so just do that."

The kid handed Steve his bat and Annie her pitchfork. They were really going to do this. A knot of nausea was in her stomach.

A pair of goggles, some gloves, and a bandanna later; Annie was at the back of the group, making sure none of the kids fell behind while Steve took the front. It was simple. Set the place on fire and get out fast. She could do this. If Steve could handle this, so could she.

They were walking through the tunnels, and Annie was already familiar with the vines and whatever it was floating in the air. Dustin stood back and as she tried to get him to move forward, something sprayed at him. As horrific as it was to watch, the kid was back up and with the group.

Another few minutes and they found the hub that they all needed to drench in gasoline.  That was also the easy part. She still kept an eye out, though. Those demodogs could be anywhere for all she knew.

She was crouched alongside all of them as Steve threw his lighter to the ground. For a moment, she just stared as it was all enveloped in bright flames. It took Dustin tugging her to realize they needed to go and she trailed behind. Meaning she was right there when Mike fell down.

"It's okay, you're fine, kid," she said, using the pitchfork to cut the vines.

That didn't stop a demodog from running up and growling as the group came back for them. She stood in front of all them, but Dustin moved in front. They all cried out in protest until Steve got them to quiet down. Her gloved hand reached for Steve's for just a moment before she focused on holding her pitchfork.

Thankfully, somehow a candy bar was all they needed  to get through. That didn't stop the other demodogs from knowing where to find them. It was a race to get the kids up one by one. The last one up was Dustin who only made it up because she and Steve forced him up. At least the kids made it out.

Deep down, Annie knew that getting out of this was impossible. She was sure Steve knew that too, but they had gone through too much to not fight this last time. Her grip was tight on her pitchfork and her eyes glanced up to him.

"Thanks, for everything," she said as the monsters ran.

What she hadn't prepared for was the stampede to ignore her and Steve. He had to hold onto her so she didn't get thrown into them. The monsters passed and she blinked as hard as she could so she wouldn't cry.

Steve made her go up first and he came out soon after. The car lights started to flash brighter than she thought possible and then they went dark again. Right after that, the hole in the ground closed. All she could do was stand, watching as it all came to an end.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!): @dungeons-and-demodogs​ @jxnehxpper​ @ilovebucketbarnes​

[forty-whacks]

hey so i really want to listen to love in hate nation because it sounds really good but i’m really bad at figuring out the plot of musicals from their soundtracks (i didn’t realize that lizzie had poisoned the milk at their house until like the 6th listen to the soundtrack). could you please explain the plot? i totally understand if you don’t want to spend yr time on this however. ty!

I do happen to have a video lihn boot if you’d like that????

But off the top of my head (this is super quick and inaccurate because I don’t have a functioning memory-

Sussanah who’s our super rad main character get’s sent to Juvie cause she tries to kill herself her adoptive parents are like cba with this shit bye. That’s basically explained in Sussanah’s song which is a tune. Also her annoying bf Francis is all “I’m gonna save you it’ll be chill”

So she gets to Nation and she brings her ukulele cause it’s neat and she meets Miss Asp who’s a bitch and Miss Asp is like no uke for you and she cuts the strings. Also Sussanah has a stutter and that’s a thing. So she meets the squad and here’s an outline of those first impressions:

Judith- A bitch, she’s like the scary top dog who’s ready to fight al the time

Kitty- Legit everyone loves her because she’s just great. She’s in nation cause she’s trans and it’s the 60s and her dad is rich and he was like no thanks.

Ya-Ya- Personal fave. Weird Scifi nerd who just wants to be friend and has a doll that may or may not be possessed.

Dorothy- Fucking QUEEN. She’s a sweet southern belle or so she says because she’s in nation for conning people with scarily good impressions.

Rat- A badass who likes to steeeaaaal

And then she meets Sheila and everyone love’s Sheila cause Sheila’s super cools n also she likes to escape! Cue 3 failed escape attempts

Now here’s where I stop being able to remember shit.

So she has to get changed and sheila is made to like look after her and they share a moment sorta???

At some point Miss Asp is chosen to do a thing for a magazine which she’s excited about until she finds that they want to do it on one of the black girls so she chooses Susannah so now she gotta make Sussanah is like in top shape for this interview.

Francis comes by and tells them he’s sussanah’s brother so he can visit and he’s like “we gotta get you out” and he proposes I think somewhere in act 1??? And they need an escape plan.

There’s another Sussanah/Sheila moment in the bathroom when they sing The Other ONe and it’s cute as shit basically.

So then Miss Asp is out n the girls are like rager time and they have a party and this is when sussanah and Francis are meant to escape. Sussanah and sheila leave the party to go to Miss Asp’s office to get ukulele strings??? I think??? And sussanah teaches sheila some morse code and they sing oh well and it’s gay.

So they get to the office and they nearly kiss but oh no Miss Asp is back and catches them. Then there’s a fight and wait shit I forgot to explain Harriet. So Harriet used to be in Nation and she dated some piano girl and Miss Asp found out and she got electric shock therapy n Miss Asp was like more please and it killed her. Miss Asp is also her mum and I can’t remember if we know that at this point. That’s why Ya-Ya’s doll is Harriet 2. Also piano girl is dead. Anywhooo back to the plot. Sussanah and Sheila are caught and sussanah’s like it’s sheila’s fault and she get’s taken to solitary and Sussanah is like shit and sings I Hope I think and it’s beautiful and that’s end of act 1 I think.

So act 2 starts with Susannah feeling really bad and everyone being like well you should and they sing Solitary and it’s sad. Then sussanah realises sheila can hear the pipes clanging and they do some morse coding and everyone’s like gotta break sheila out.

BAck to me not remembering the order of anything that happens: Kitty sings Masochist at some point which is a queer anthem about being LGBT and loving it essentially also Miss Asp is having a breakdown and she thinks the girls are aliens and also Judith is a traitor who sells out the other girls in hopes of getting a transfer.

They devise a plan to get sheila out called operation sha la la and at this point I realise maybe Francis didn’t propose til act 2 and there was no escape plan in act 1??? God I should watch this again. Anyway the plan essentially involves sheila pretending to be sick and escaping through the bathroom window to where Francis will pick her up. All the girls use their different skills and band together even Judith at this point I think no wait that’s later oh and Sheila took Judith’s eye out for ratting out Harriet I think you should know that by now.

So they distract asp and the other guard dude while sussanah goes to give sheila the package and be like “btw I like you and I’m sorry”

Shit the magazine! Yeah this all happen’s on magazine day and asp is obsessing over everything being perfect. Sheila escapes and is round back but guard dude BUZZ! I think his name’s buzz! Catches is her and is like nah bro. So now I legit can’t remember shit, this is where revolution song goes yeah?? I’m putting it here anyway. So they’re like we gotta take this place down and they sing revolution song and make plans and they burn the place down. Wait shit no does revolution song happen while they’re making plans to bust sheila out?? Or both?? Anyway Judith has joined the squad and they burn the place down.

Now Sussanah and Sheila sing about how in love they are and Sheila rides off to Mexico with Francis cause she gotta get away.

Cut to the 80s and Sussanah’s is a famous singer and she’s playing in a record shop and Sheila happens to stop by and BAM LOOOOOOVE the end.

So uhhhhhhh someone please correct this. Hope it helped like even a little.

[umlindsay]

I’m bored so I am going to come up with a wildly inaccurate theory: Taylor liking just a couple of posts at a time is her way of slowly but surely writing out a message to us in a tumblr likes Morse code of sorts!!!!!!!! I will not be bamboozled by this woman again!!!!

[fandomseverywhereassemble]

Less Than Human (Part 3)

[lxveille]

afterglow

wonwoo x reader

word count: ~ 2900 a/n: nothing explicit, but sex is mentioned as a thing that happens.

For the first time, Wonwoo doesn’t have to leave before dawn.

4:06AM

You wake up and immediately know it’s far before sunrise. The sky outside the one window in your studio apartment is still pitch dark. You shift in bed; your left foot is the first part of you to make contact with the body lying beside yours. For a split second, you panic. (Who? Why? How?) But then you remember the night before and ease slips back over your tired bones.

It’s only Wonwoo. That’s an inaccurate use of the modifier. Rather, it’s the only Wonwoo you can imagine so wonderfully warm beside. And right now you’re very grateful to the friend who’d downloaded some dating app and liked every guy in a 5-mile radius on a night out. Sure, you may have been swarmed by bad openers, poorly chosen pick-up lines and a few explicit requests. But somehow through all that mess you’d actually seen and responded to a simple, sincere-enough sounding request to simply chat. Chatting on the app had turned to texting, texting to meeting up for tea, and tea turned into dinner and you kissing him messily at your doorstep despite telling yourself earlier that you absolutely would not kiss some internet guy on the first date.

You’ve decided now that was one of the better impulsive things you’ve ever done. It’s five weeks since that first face-to-face meeting, and you haven’t gone a single day since without at least an evening text exchange checking in on how your days had been. You’re starting to think it’s possible that you’re falling for him, though you’re far from saying it out loud. But you have started practicing in your head, from time to time, exactly how you’ll go about asking him if this thing you’re sharing is exclusive if he doesn’t bring it up himself sometime soon.

The two of you slept together for the first time three days after that first, half-day-long date. It had been a little awkward and hurried, with Wonwoo preoccupied with the worry that one of his housemates would come home unexpectedly at any moment the whole time. Since then sex had exclusively happened at your place.

You turn over in bed so that you’re facing him. Through the dark you can still tell he’s on his side, facing your way with his face half-buried in one of your pillows. You move a little closer and slip one arm carefully over his waist as you cuddle into his chest. This is the latest Wonwoo has ever stayed. Mismatched schedules between the two of you meant your time to cuddle was usually limited. Either he had to go or you had to ask him to leave.

But last night he’d kissed your cheeks and asked if he could spend the night.

It’s not uncommon for you to be a bit of restless sleeper. But you swear you get back to sleep a little faster than usual with your forehead tucked against his chest.

5:41AM

Wonwoo wakes up out of habit from several days worth of horribly early alarms this past week. He notices the body pressed against him right away, and smiles sleepily as he drapes one arm over your shoulders. You’re so close that he can’t make out your features very well without pulling away. He certainly doesn’t want to do that.

From the steady rise and fall of your shoulders and chest, he can tell you must be sound asleep. This is the first time he’s seen you truly sleeping. You’ve been sleepy before. In particular, he recalls the night he texted you past midnight to say he’d finally finished practice and how he missed you. He’d sent it with the hopes of an invitation over, but he’d been shocked all the same when he actually got one. You were exhausted, though, so he’d stuck with lazy make outs and gentle cuddling until he inevitably had to say goodbye at nearly three in the morning.

You’re so good to me, he finds himself thinking through the drowsiness still clouding his mind. His shoulders shift, wrapping himself a little more around your form. He doesn’t know what time it is at this point, but he hopes this can linger on for a whole lot longer.

He can hardly believe he’s never managed to be in this exact circumstance before. He’s absolutely engulfed in the soft scent he’s come to associate with your living space. It’s a distinct mix of your usual perfume, of the detergent and the floral-scented candles you liked to burn, and, somehow most distinct to his nose out of all of these, of your uniquely you smell: subtle and laced with an undertone of warmth and some faint spice he could never quite name. Wonwoo would like nothing more than to bottle it up and keep it on his bedside table so he could always go to bed surrounded by this smell.

In absence of that possibility, he’d gladly take sleeping with you by his side instead.

Actually, he’d prefer that version.

6:00AM

Your phone, long forgot on the small table cramped between your bed and small your kitchen area, comes to life with an obnoxiously loud beeping.

You jolt up and clamber out of bed, practically tripping over your own feet in your rush to turn off the alarm. The text that goes along with your daily alarm makes it clear through the number of exclamation marks that it isn’t a notification you can just ignore. You turn it off without a moment’s hesitation, but it’s still not quick enough to have not woken up Wonwoo.

The proof is in the small, sleep-ridden groan that comes from your bed. When nothing more comes from him after a few seconds, you think perhaps he’s gone and fallen right back asleep without being too disturbed. You set your phone down sheepishly and tiptoe over to your nightstand, opening the draw slowly in hopes of making as little noise as possible.

Wonwoo turns over in bed just as you’re carefully pushing a tiny yellow pill out of its blister pack.

“Do you have work today?” he asks groggily, unable to mask his disappointment at the notion. You shake your head before popping the medication into your mouth and swallowing. “Then what…?” Being half-asleep still has made him less capable of forming full questions.

“Birth control alarm,” you explain simply as you push the drawer closed.

“This early?” he asks, reaching a hand out for you. You take it without a second thought and titter as he tugs you back onto the mattress.

“Mmm -- used to take it at night but I’d always forget or end up taking it with, like… a soju chaser. Mornings were the more responsible choice.” All the while, Wonwoo and you are shifting blankets around as you slide back into bed, now on opposite sides than you were before.

“Ah, you’re responsible,” he almost echoes as he gets you as close as he can, body curving slightly so he can rest his forehead against yours as you both lie on your sides facing one another. “You let the cold in,” he adds the complaint with a tired, contradictory smile.

“Sorry,” you whisper to him. He presses a senseless kiss to the tip of your nose that sets a frazzled grin onto your lips. “Forgive me?”

Wonwoo only hums in response and shuts his eyes.

You debate between letting yourself soak in his peaceful, practically perfect features and closing your own eyes as well. Lingering sleepiness ends up making the decision for you. It’s hard to resist when you’re as wrapped up, warm and secure as you are right now.

10:23AM

When he comes back to consciousness, you’re still close to him, but you’ve shifted onto your back and are scrolling through your social media. “Good morning,” he calls out gently for your attention. A smile flits onto your features before you set your phone aside and turn to look at him.

“Morning, Wonwoo,” you say, and it feels like his heart is thumping out in rapid morse code ‘I want to hear that every day��. He props himself up onto one elbow just so he can lean in over you and properly kiss you.

Early conversations and thoughts feel like they were ages ago. Now that sunlight is flooding fully in through your window, it seems like a different time altogether.

He pulls away only to kiss your forehead, grinning at the way your eyelids flutter shut momentarily at that more innocent affection. Your fingertips brush against the back of his neck and into a bit of his hair, waking Wonwoo up more fully with the coolness of your touch.

“Good dreams?” you asked him kindly. He lays back down beside you, pushing the covers down his torso some. With the added warmth of sunlight, it’s beginning to be almost too much heat to be comfortable between your two bodies.

“I don’t remember,” he admits, “But I slept really well.”

“I’m glad.” You pull your legs up to your chest as you sit up and slip out from under the blankets. For the second time in the past twenty-four hours, Wonwoo appreciates exactly how you look in a loose-fitting tank top and pajama shorts.

You stretch your arms out in front of you and then up over your head, your back arching as you will yourself awake. As you do so, Wonwoo notices the dark purple-blue splotches dotted along collarbone and shoulder. His gaze trails down to your crossed legs and he frowns at the similar bruises that litter the insides of your thighs.

He leans towards you and kisses your shoulder gently before muttering a low, rumbling apology.

“For what?” you question, chuckling with surprise at the sudden appearance of his remorse.

“I got a bit carried away.” Clarification of his meaning comes from him skimming one hand over the flesh of your right thigh, calloused fingertips just barely making contact with your skin as he traced the outline of one of the lovebites he’d left behind.

“I liked it,” you reassure him.

“Don’t say that,” he replies as his nose runs up along your neck until his lips are beside your ear. “You’re being a bad influence.”

“How?” You squirm from the tickling sensation that comes when Wonwoo dips his head back down to lick softly over one of the red-blue bruises staining your clavicle.

“I don’t like seeing your skin all marred.” Any pretense is gone from his voice, it’s honest remorse. He nuzzles innocently into your neck for a moment.

“They don’t hurt,” you remind him, bringing one hand up along his spine and up further until you’re toying with his hair absentmindedly. “I told you I liked it.”

“Yeah, and I liked how pretty you sounded when I made them,” he confesses, tone dipping lower, almost reminiscent of the night before, as he lifts his head to place a brief kiss to your temple. “Hence the bad influence.”

You lean into him with a small laugh. “Don’t rile yourself up,” you warn, “I’m not a morning sex person.”

He chuckles at your straightforwardness and winds an arm low around your waist. His fingers brush the waistband of your pajama shorts delicately. “I’m okay.”

11:03AM

That’s the time on your cell phone screen when the two of you decide hunger is going to force you out of bed.

You rummage through cabinets and a nearly empty fridge before settling on eggs. Wonwoo offers to help several times over before letting you navigate the kitchen on your own. Still, he keeps hovering beside you, leaning his head on yours or wrapping an arm around the front of your chest and shoulders when you don’t seem too preoccupied.

The spell of morning is wearing off. You both know you can’t stay wrapped around each other in your apartment all day. So you don’t mind the way he can’t seem to step away from you for longer than a minute. He’s collecting as much contact as he can before the two of you have to part ways.

You end up eating the eggs off of a single plate, mostly because you’re past due for running your dishwasher. But the intimacy of sharing isn’t lost on either of you. He compliments your cooking, and you insist that it’s one of the easiest things there is to make.

When the plate is empty, neither of you make a move to get up. You stay seated across from each other at your small table, chatting about anything that crosses your minds.

11:58AM

“I should probably make sure I’m back at the dorm before it’s too late into the afternoon,” Wonwoo muses, sounding like he hates the words even as he says them.

You look up from the quick text you were sending to a friend who’d just texted to ask if you wanted to do lunch today. “Do you have to?” you ask despite already knowing the answer. Still, it’s been too nice having him here to let him go without at least a pout.

He nods with an apologetic smile.

“Do you want to shower before you go?” you offer. “My water pressure is awful but it gets the job done.”

“That’d be nice,” he accepts easily.

Mostly he just rinses off. Though he spends more time than he’ll care to admit staring at the various soaps and hair products in your shower caddy. Somewhere in between them all, he figures, must be some magic ratio of aromas that contributes to his favorite smell.

12:17PM

Wonwoo comes out of your tiny bathroom fully dressed, towel slung over his shoulders as he continues to ruffle his hair dry.

The dampness of his hair strikes you as a timer, counting down to when he’ll officially gather up all his things and leave.

And you’re right because once his hair is dry to touch Wonwoo sighs heavily and puts the things he’d brought along back into the bag he’d brought over. You watch him from where you’re lounging on your bed. “Don’t forget to grab your toothbrush,” you remind him as he’s taking a last glance around your apartment for his belongings.

He nods gives an appreciative smile and turns to head back into your bathroom.

You take this moment as your cue to stand up.

Wonwoo crouches down as he zips shut the bag. When he comes back up to his full height, you’re standing in front of his with as bright a smile as you can manage at goodbye.

“Don’t look so down,” he speaks softly, wishing his own voice was more lighthearted with the sentiment. “It’s not like I’m going far away.”

That’s true. He’s right, but it’s not the same as having him right here. It’s only the first time he’s properly stayed the night at your place and you’ve been spoiled by it already.

“I don’t want you away at all,” you tell him as you wrap arms around him. He pulls you into his chest, fingers dancing along the length of your back as he tries to convince himself he ought to just get the farewells over with.

“I know,” he says, hoping it doesn’t come across as conceited in any way. “I’m pretty busy tomorrow, but maybe we can meet up on Tuesday?”

You nod without lifting your cheek from the soft cotton of his shirt. “You gotta tell me again how you need to go, or I’ll just stay like this forever.”

It doesn’t sound so bad to him.

“I need to go,” he humors you. You sigh and unravel yourself from around him. His hands take yours before you can step away from entirely. “Come back,” he beckons.

He kisses you slowly, savoring every detail. Not only the feel of you but the small sounds that resonate in the space of your apartment, too.

It must take five minutes for you to cross the small amount of floor between where you’d started and your apartment’s front door. Every few steps one of your stops the other, coming together once more to kiss, each time lingering on each other as if it’s the very last chance you’ll get to be alone together.

You walk him out into the hall and only let go of his hand when he starts to go down the stairs. You, after all, are still in only your pajamas.

Wonwoo makes it down no more than five steps before turning around and quickly ascending them again to get to you just one last time. It catches you off guard, and you laugh as he (for what must be the first time) has to be the one to lean up to meet your lips, given that he didn’t bother stepping back up onto the landing.

When he pulls away this time, he grins foolishly, looking utterly like a man in love. You’re smiling back, and it’s exactly what he was waiting for. He couldn’t bring himself to leave with you looking anything close to forlorn.

“Have a good day,” he wishes for you, squeezing your hand lightly as he takes a cautious step back down. “I’ll see you soon.”

You stay exactly where he leaves you as his back turns to continue down the stairs. He smiles back up at you with a small wave as he rounds to head to the next flight down.

“See you,” you mirror him with a small wave in return and a lovesick grin on your lips, only bringing yourself to head back into your apartment once he’s fully disappeared from view.  

Tuesday can’t come soon enough.

[rrcooperwrites]

Opus V

Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/pjvdik/wp_youve_been_defeated_again_and_you_couldnt_be/

[WP] You've been defeated again, and you couldn't be happier! Ruling over the land as an all powerful dictator always gets boring. Now comes your favorite part, the grind back to the top!

As always here is the accompanying soundtrack: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3fAg9pzqtc9UiP0K9gZj6Y?si=f90c96f884c847a5

START HERE >>>

Liberator from the Imperial Yoke, Protector of the Realm, Head of the Church, Lord of the Moon, Husband to the Sun, Master of Beasts, Professor, Doctor, and leader in-perpetuam of the Planet Kingdom of Gardenia, his Serene Majesty Theofilium XII was dead.

And he couldn’t be happier.

As soon as Hiro’s sword penetrated his chest, Theo’s event listener kicked in. The running environment noticed the triggered event. The event’s signature was “tirant_defeated”, its data variant was 48280.

Theo jumped up from the submersion chair, almost pulling down the cranial-sense injector that but seconds ago had been embedded in his nose.

“This is it!” Theo exclaimed. He was sure of it.

“Just needs some tinkering, a hair here, a death there, a sickness over there,” said Theo as he plopped into what he liked to call the “Thinking Chair”, which wasn’t inaccurate. The “Thinking Chair” could brag that it had provided comfort to one of the smartest arses in the universe.

A processing tower gave an audible ping, like a kettle, a rather irritated kettle as well.

“Coming,” screamed Theo at no one in particular. A second, even more irritated, ping resounded across the room.

“I said I’m coming Tofi,” said Theo, “I can’t process information as fast as you can.”

A smug series of pings sounded in the room.

“Slow down Tofi. I understand morse code, but there needs to be at least more than 100 milliseconds between each letter if you want me to keep up.”

A reproachful series of pings.

“You’re right, I haven’t been studying. But if this works out, we’re going to be getting a lot more free time.”

Theo wheeled himself over to the pinging console.

“The future 50 year simulation looks good. Not too much tragedy really. Couple of rebellions, all quickly put down, and a strong dynasty is established as well,” said Theo as he nodded approvingly, “There is a definite advantage to killing the BF during the campaign. Note to self: Change abbreviation of BF to something else. It sometimes makes it difficult to differentiate between Best Friend BF, and Boy Friend BF.”

Theo pressed a series of buttons on the console and reports started to roll out from the asthmatic matrix printer.

“Which is running out of ink,” said Theo, “Note to self: Walk down to beach for squid rings and ink.”

Theo wheeled himself over once-again to the printer and started reading the data.

“Ok, so let’s look at base stats first. Lost heir to the throne is the perfect way to go, clearly. People like a bit of pomp I guess. Also female is always better, particularly if they’re born to exiled nobles. A sword as a personal side-arm is a must have, I wonder why?”

A series on inquisitive beeps sounded off.

“That’s true Tofi, swords and sword-like weapons are always associated with justice, truth, and nobility. Which is of course ridiculous. There is no justice or nobility when a sword skewears a infant, although there is a sad kind of truth in it I guess.”

Reaffirmation beeps.

“That’s right Tofi! We’ve got the best variables now. The perfect side-arm. The perfect best friend. The perfect first kiss. I even managed to let Hiro decide for themselves who they want to romance. As long as they stay away from Malinha, they should be ok. Of course, that requires me to kill her off after she has served her purpose.”

Regretful beeps.

“Well yes, but to be fair, that is her purpose in life, isn’t it? Be evil, turn to good, die for Hiro’s sake. There is a lot of purpose in a life like that.”

Sad beeps.

“You know you shouldn’t get attached to them. They’re tools.”

Silence.

“Fine!” exclaimed Theo, “If you manage to find a way to save her, do it. Just make sure she stays away from Hiro for say the next 50 years after they defeat the tyrant, ok?”

Dutiful beeps.

“Ok Tofi. I’m going to rest now. Tomorrow, we can continue working on the successful run. Who knew that a trainable smart cheeky pet would be a must-have?”

Night-night beeps.

“Good night mate,” said Theo as he walked past a series of spherical containers. One of them was labelled “Hiro”.

“Sweet dreams saviour,” whispered Theo while lightly brushing his fingers across the concreglass of the container.

“It isn’t fair what I’m going to put you through and there are no gods or spirits that will forgive what I’ve put you through to get here.”

Theo walked into his little sleeping coven.

“But I don’t need forgiveness,” he said to himself, “all I need is for Gardenia to be free.”

And so Theo slept. He slept the uncomfortable sleep of the criminal who knows he has done wrong. But every now and again he would have small dreams though. In this dreams he finally released Hiro into the world. With him where all the companions that he had carefully selected.

The Mentor, The Best Friend, The Lover, The Spouse, The Veteran, The Enchantress, The Villain, The Kind Priest, The Boisterous Warrior, The Mage.

They were all sitting in spheres alongside Hiro’s. Whenever he remembered this, Theo managed to sleep quietly for a little while more, and dreamt of freedom.

[theflyingpimphat]

Imp Log 2: Glacier imp

While it seems to be the only imp species with two different well-established common names, both names are inaccurate - the vast majority of tundra imps actually inhabit taiga forests. They are also the biggest imp species, with a standing height that can reach the height of an adult orc in some cases. Considering their preferred habitat, it is no surprise that these imps are pretty resourceful and not picky about food, which includes berries, fungi, seeds, roots, fermented conifer needles, and compared to other imp species, a pretty high amount of vertebrate meat. They are said to be pretty aggressive and will consider humanoids, other goblinoids and even members of rivalling colonies as food, but that highly varies between cultures. Due to their large size and the cold climate being unfavourable for developing extensive gliding membranes, tundra imps lack the ability to glide, but it won't stop them from climbing trees, which is mostly done for having a better lookout, to collect food or to set up traps. Dwellings are usually dug into the ground, where they have more space and are safe from the cold and forest fires alike. Their food stockpiles are particularly impressive, dug into permafrost to prevent spoiling. There are two distinct races present, the bigger, more common spruce race and the smaller larch race, which inhabits the light taiga in Eastern Kushur and is capable of hibernating throught the coldest months. Due to the unforgiving environment, most tundra imps are nomads or less commonly vagrants, with residents being very rare and usually present in the vicinity of large rivers and assimilated individuals being present predominantly among orc cultures.   A pretty unique trait of this species is their set of natural vocalisations, which sound like whetting, ticking and low creaking, and unlike in other imp species, is used akin to a morse code for long-distance communication. While they use regular speech in other situations, these sounds are often used in their vocabulary and often carry over into their spoken human languages, which makes tundra imps probably have the most unsettling voices. Tundra imps usually interact little with humans, but have very colourful relationships to orcs, which they share their environment with. Tundra-dwelling populations are usually on friendly terms with the boreal humanoids and will readily cooperate, while forest dweller relationships are more variable, ranging from friendly to hostile. Relations to northern striped and spotted imp populations are similar. Some cultures have an interesting relationship to sootlings, where the tiny goblins are given a bigger variety of food in exchange for conifer seeds.

[pokemaniacal]

Pikipek, Trumbeak and Toucannon

ahem

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNxujJGnbB4

Okay, let’s go.

Pikipek and Trumbeak could be loosely based on any of several species of North American woodpecker with black and white plumage and red crests; the pileated woodpecker is the largest and most iconic of these, and one of the most common.  Toucannon is pretty clearly a toco toucan, likewise the largest and most iconic member of the toucan family (if you didn’t know there were different species of toucan, this is probably the one you were thinking of), which is native to Brazil.  That in itself deserves some comment: it’s odd that Game Freak didn’t choose Hawaiian birds to fill the requisite early-game generic Normal/Flying-type “slot.”  Many other Alolan Pokémon are designed in reference to the unique wildlife of Hawai’i, and the islands would have provided a wide variety of interesting and colourful songbirds to any designer who felt so inclined.  Neither woodpeckers nor toucans, of any species, are endemic to Hawai’i at all (notwithstanding the ‘akiapola’au, a species of honeycreeper which is sometimes known as the “Hawaiian woodpecker” but has more in common with Oricorio than Pikipek).  I’m inclined to think that Game Freak may have been sitting on Pikipek’s design, or something like it, for a while, perhaps since before they decided to set a game in a Hawai’i analogue (this would imply that they may have several of these godawful Normal/Flying generic bird Pokémon saved up, just waiting for the right excuse to deploy them, which may be my most depressing realisation of the entire week).  Having said that, expecting them to make literally every Pokémon in Alola a reference to Hawaiian wildlife would be a bit of a stringent requirement, which I would never have demanded from Unova or Kalos, and a toucan Pokémon at least fits the “tropical” theme of the region well enough.

A woodpecker evolving into a toucan makes more sense than you might at first realise, since the toucan family, the Rhamphastidae, are some of the closest relatives of the woodpecker family, the Picidae.  Both are known for their beaks, so there’s a useful thematic similarity there as well.  The toco toucan lends Toucannon a nicely distinctive and visually striking appearance, which draws attention to the part of his body associated with his most unique abilities – the toucan’s massive beak, which is the largest and heaviest relative to its body size of any bird in the world.  There is a danger here that he winds up being just literally a toco toucan, and there’s not much in his art to stave that off except for a truly masterful side-eye, which conveys a level of Skrelp-esque sleep-deprived surliness that no real toucan quite manages.  The physical design just isn’t all that imaginative, which has to count as a fairly significant strike against him, even though a toucan is already an interesting animal in its own right (props to Nature and Evolution on that one).  Toucannon does twist the function of a toucan’s oversized beak in a fun way, though.  People are somewhat split on what a toucan’s beak is actually for.  In at least some species, it probably does have display purposes, which was what Darwin thought when he saw toucans in South America, but today we also believe that they play a pretty important role in heat regulation.  Toco toucans are quite large birds that live exclusively in tropical climates, so having a huge beak with lots of blood vessels and bright colours that can dump a lot of excess heat quickly is a fairly significant advantage.  Toucannon takes this a step further, by dumping that excess heat directly onto his enemies, burning anyone that comes too close during battle and igniting his seed projectiles to create explosive blast attacks.  It makes sense, it’s creative, and it’s badass, which is all good news.

Speaking of explosive blast attacks, Toucannon’s unique powers are represented in the game by his Beak Blast signature move.  This looks at first like a two-turn move in the vein of Sky Attack or Solarbeam, but actually functions more like Focus Punch, with the “charging” phase happening at the beginning of the turn, before the opponent’s move, followed by the attack firing at the end of the turn, after the opponent’s move.  It can’t be interrupted like Focus Punch, and in fact, any enemy who hits Toucannon with a contact move while Beak Blast is charging will suffer a burn.  The attack itself does some fairly hefty Flying-type damage too, and Toucannon has an excellent physical attack stat to back it up.  So the good news is, you have a very powerful Flying-type move to serve as your primary attack, you can burn enemies insolent enough to attack you (even if the attack actually knocks out Toucannon), and you were probably going to move last anyway against a lot of Pokémon, because Toucannon is pretty slow.  The _bad _news is, Beak Blast is still less powerful than Brave Bird, which Toucannon can get as an egg move, and his defences are decidedly on the average side, so going last does leave you vulnerable.  Probably the biggest issue with Beak Blast is that very few of the attacks Toucannon is most afraid of will actually trigger the retributive burn effect.  The best Ice and Electric attacks are special, and although Rock primarily has physical attacks, almost none of them actually make contact.  Just playing normally against Toucannon will probably be all it takes for most Pokémon to avoid suffering burns from Beak Blast.  The fact is, it’s not a great move, but it’s a move with a hell of a lot of personality, and I have to love it for that.

All this being the case, I can see basically two ways you could go with Toucannon.  You could dedicate his training to attack and speed, trying to help him outrun as much as his stubby wings will allow, then slap Brave Bird on him and use him as a fairly conventional sledgehammer Pokémon.  Toucannon gets the Skill Link ability, which guarantees five hits with moves in the “hits 2-5 times” category and turns the normally unreliable Bullet Seed and Rock Blast into top-notch Grass and Rock attacks with the added perk of being able to pierce Substitutes and the Sturdy ability (Fury Attack is also improved, but is still too weak and too inaccurate to be worth using, which just goes to show how terrible Fury Attack is normally).  Sheer Force, Toucannon’s hidden ability, is available as an alternative to Skill Link, but although it’s normally a fantastic ability (giving a +30% damage bonus to moves with a secondary effect, at the cost of removing the effect), Toucannon learns very few moves that benefit from it – pretty much just Steel Wing, so you’d basically be taking the ability just for an edge against Fairy-types.  Skill Link is better; Keen Eye is garbage.  For a fourth move, you could pick up a Normal attack like Return, but Normal attacks are mostly redundant with Flying in terms of type coverage, and you’ll be leaving Toucannon dead in the water against most Steel-types.  Brick Break loses out to Steel Pokémon with a secondary type that resists Fighting, which many of the best ones do (Metagross, Skarmory, Scizor).  Your other option is Overheat.  Toucannon’s special attack stat is, at best, fine.  However, Overheat is extremely powerful, and Toucannon won’t much care about the special attack penalty that the move inflicts on its user.  Brick Break is still better against some Steel-types with good special defence, and really does a number on Bisharp, but Overheat is probably a better general-purpose move, and is nicely thematic (bonus style points for using it with a Z-crystal).  U-Turn is always a move worth considering, but is probably not great for Toucannon specifically, for much the same reason as Gumshoos – he’s a super-heavy hitter who’s very hard to get into play in the first place, and is better off just bludgeoning enemies into submission than trying to play tricky.  The most glaring absence from Toucannon’s movepool here is the absence of Agility – or indeed any way of increasing his decidedly mediocre speed, aside from Flame Charge or Tailwind, which I hesitate to actually recommend.  Any kind of sweeping strategy is more or less out of the question; Toucannon is here strictly to blow things up and open the path for an actual sweeper.

The alternative path is to reason that Toucannon isn’t going to outrun much of any importance anyway, just dump his speed completely, and instead try to spec him as a sort of blasty tank, with a bunch of points in HP.  Take Beak Blast over Brave Bird, both to spare yourself Brave Bird’s recoil and to cripple physical attackers with burns.  Take Roost for healing.  Consider Feather Dance, then stop because Feather Dance is silly.  Other than the main Flying attack, you probably want to think about most of the same attack options for this Toucannon, since he doesn’t really have a support movepool other than the aforementioned Tailwind (a short-term global speed bonus for your team).  Finally, I suppose I should at least mention Swords Dance, because the very notion of a Swords Dance Toucannon is a little bit terrifying, but it’s an iffy proposition for much the same reasons as I hesitated to recommend Swords Dance on Decidueye or Incineroar: he’s just too slow and doesn’t have the bulk or resistances to compensate (Alola seems to really like slow Pokémon for some reason).

All in all, Toucannon is… fine.  He’s much more interesting than the typical early-game Normal/Flying fodder, in an apparent continuation of generation VI’s effort to make the “template” Pokémon a bit less repetitive and pointless.  His signature move is a cool reinforcement of what his design is about.  Talonflame is an extremely hard act to follow as far as the competitive scene goes, and Toucannon is frankly nowhere close, but at least he diverges from the battle style of most of the early-game bird Pokémon.  He’s not directly overshadowed by Talonflame in quite the same way as Gumshoos is by Diggersby (instead he gets to be overshadowed by Braviary, of all things, who’s tougher and faster, but has an arguably worse movepool thanks to Toucannon’s Skill Link goodies).  So, I mean… I guess he exceeds the low expectations I have for a Pokémon in his position.  Don’t get too cocky, Game Freak.

[objectofalldesire]

The Folly of Communication

Every exchange of information happens in layers. The most basic possible communication, binary, has only one layer with two states: on or off. But something as little as modulating the time between the switching of states can add another layer, in this case, morse code. Continue along this path and you will eventually reach the 8 layers of the OCI Protocol that govern the bits carrying this information to your eyes presently.

Human communication works in a similar yet much more complex way. Generally it goes thus; You have a thought in your head that you want to express in some way, usually with the intent of placing it in someone else`s head. This idea is formed in the mind from the abstract, then molded through thinking from all the different parts of the mind and then codified into whatever language will be used to express the idea. Once properly formatted the idea, now turned into a message, is performed by the emitting party, passes through the environment between the parts of the exchange and then received and processed by each recipient, who then mold it with thought to draw a conclusion that is compatible with their though structures.

There are many layers in this model of communication. Each layer adds an additional degree of subjectivity. The psychology of either party might distort the message, the environment might degrade it, codification might be inaccurate and muddle interpretation, etc. Most everyone accepts this basic fact. Humans seldom understand each other, and it takes a lot of effort to do so.

If this fact is widely acknowledged, why is it that most of our culture and philosophy place great value in social vinculation, which relies on trust, which is frequently measured by how easily ideas are conveyed? Shouldn`t social vinculation be treated as a necessary evil in face of the apparent permanent misunderstanding? Why is trust measured, at least in part, by the ability to overcome this apparent fundamental human problem with those that are closest to you?

The tempting easy answer lies in the chimp brain we carry around. Humanity relies on society to survive - which we tend to forget now that most of it`s benefits are delivered impersonally (it`s not like you have to interact with the workers that build your roads), turning exile into a very dangerous situation to be avoided at all costs. This is how social pain was installed into the brain, and the reason why we seek out human contact even if it is toxic to us, and why it is so hard to produce self-worth without external validation of some kind.

That should solve the problem, right? The answer is neurological, natural selection has given us a need we can never fill to prevent us from leaving each other and it worked so fucking well that we went to the moon. But if that was indeed the case then the logical conclusion would be absolute emotional fakery. No need for sociopathy, retain your intact, healthy, definitely not repressed emotions and simply refrain from sharing them in detail, maintaining every interaction civil and friendly. If there is no way to properly communicate, then there is no need to do so at all. This can only work on either supremely balanced or incredibly damaged individuals that can keep strong emotions such as anger or temporary depression at bay. This is also the approach that ruled western society from the death of romanticism to the rise of the Hippies.

There are major problems with the fakery approach, not the least of which is the massive amounts of energy it requires to keep up, the psychological toll it produces and the catastrophic effects of the defensive structure untimely collapsing. Basically, its easy to go postal. What then? Most people will point to our endlessly expanding capacity for language and, primarily, logic. In this modern world with more and more educated people, it should be easier than ever to explain in logical, rational terms your beliefs and answer any questions or issues the recipient may have until a shared understanding is reached. This shifts the burden of subjectivity, and places both parties under the same subjective umbrella, allowing them to share an opinion while retaining ideological differences.

The most attentive of readers will have begun to caught on to the central problem I want to shed a light on. This shared subjectivity relies on compromise from at least one of the parties, as otherwise there would be no conflict to begin with. Furthermore, this shared conclusion must necessarily take place exclusively in the language plain, as ideas must be codified to be transmitted and cannot escape the need for a delivery mechanism. If you add to this the fact that humans can and are heavily incentivized to emit fake signals not directly related to actual ideas inside the mind for their personal benefit (in layman`s: lying), then the most likely conclusion is that this shared subjectivity is not shared at all. Instead, a verbal totem is produced, that shows which part each side has agreed to pretend to compromise on. The internal interpretation and meaning of this totem to each party can be, and it usually is, widely different.

What does this mean for social interaction? It means there is actually very little of it. This is the Misunderstandment Paradox: As humans cannot be transparent with their thought and are incentivized to avoid differences of thought with their group, it must be assumed they are dishonest agents, which implies that any conversation or argument with the purpose of dispelling a misunderstanding will teach each party what the other recognizes as off or alien and show them how they must act to elicit reactions that are socially beneficial to themselves. This means that any moment of connection, bonding, trust, creation, discussion, or any other group process is not different in any way from processes that are not shared, and it is impossible to verify how much information has actually been transmitted and in what way. What`s worse is that this is exponential, as agreed upon shared definitions are built on and used to present other, possibly dissonant, more complex definitions. Following this trend to its logical conclusion, any matrix of definitions is completely subjective and thus no different than a replacement of  the definition matrix (read: ideology or paradigm) with subjective, of-the-moment interpretations, at least at a “real”, logical, abstract, within-the-mind level. The only true development arguments can provide is through the creation of dialectical structures that trap within them certain interpretations of meaning, and are thus not questioned and incorporated as part of “reality” and not in the nebulous reaches of thought.

This process is reversible. If the Misunderstandment Paradox can advance dialectical structures without actually changing the structures these represent, then it can be assumed that the structures each individual was born into are as arbitrary and subjective as the ones the individual will create and pass on through their lives. This inevitably leads to a statement that is familiar to many: Reality does not exist. We perceive what we process, and how we process is purely subjective along with externally invisible and immutable. It is a bit more disconcerting to imagine that every piece of language ever heard is nothing but a slight nudge in the direction of the sender`s interpretation, which relies more on the characteristics of the recipient than the original idea or intent. It would mean that the sum of human history is nothing more than a continued delusion, that every explanation of events is produced afterwards instead of previously existing as their cause. It would vastly change the relationship between language and humanity.

It also makes conversation pointless.

This is where I stand. For a long time I tried the fakery approach, to generally positive effect. It had a great toll on my psychology at the time, though, and my desire to escape that pain lead me to tear down the painted walls I had set up. This, besides looking like a radical and sudden personality change from the outside, left me wide open and vulnerable, up for grabs, basic human psychology kicked in and most of what I valued in life was ripped from me, destroyed, or disfigured beyond recognition. So I put up walls once again, with little doors to prevent suffocating again. But that didn`t help. It isolated me from new relationships and gave old ones the space to turn toxic. Then I came to the conclusion I have just presented. Now I`m not sure what to do. I don`t genuinely think all communication is pointless or completely arbitrary, otherwise there would be no point of writing this essay, I just think there truly is no way to prove that an idea has traveled from your brain to someone else`s. It seems like the best way forward is to lay out your points as clearly as possible, attempt to understand fully and honestly the other party`s views, and accept that there might be no actual information exchange.

Regarding walls, my solution has been to remove the doors. For anyone to come in they must scale the wall, that is, they must understand through their own internal processes, at a logical, abstract level, the ways that I function and what I see as morality. If they have scaled that wall there is no misunderstandment paradox to muddle its significance, i.e. it was not forced or otherwise telegraphed by sappy emotional conversations or self identifying statements. In case the other party does not manage to climb the wall, simply climb it yourself, leaving the valuable pieces of yourself hidden behind and putting yourself out into the world honestly, with no fakery. Maybe this will work. Maybe it won`t. It holds no relevance to the rest of this text.

There is still great use in dialectical and language structures. There is still great use in learning how to perceive reality from others. There is still great use in putting the effort in to share through conversation your ideas. What is important is to keep in mind that all these are mere approximations, that seek only to guide the recipient in the proper direction, and can only work accompanied by action, internal or external. Hopefully, and a bit ironically, the presentation of communication as an eternal misunderstanding will lead to an easier understanding of opposing opinions and, particularly, seemingly irrational actions.

That`s it for this pretentious word vomit. I feel much better now.

[dianathediabolicaldoodle-blog]

"Unless your eyes turn people into stone or horse shit.... They wont discriminate, i mean if you visited some of my other AU's... Vice for example, that hat there doesn't have pupils or iris'. It's just straight black light's for eyes! I bet if you let him in your room while its dark he's gonna see all the cum splats on the ceiling and floor!" She teased.

CV trotted behind flug and rested his head on his shoulder, eyes going wide ininterest at the cube. He tapped his hoof on the ground lightly, in morse code. [Oh goodie! I get a wrapped candy!] He looked so enthusiastic as flug held it in his hand. But as soon as the carraige door was kicked open by certain bandit's boot that's when CV's ears twitched, he backed away from the pair and thats when drugwent upto him. "Hey hey youre fine he isn't gonna hurt you...."

Spurs jingled as the aforementioned Coal Hat stepped out of the carriage and onto the dried ground. He emerged from the carraige looking just as Diana's sketches. A faded greed bandana that looked as a set of teeth, two holsters filled with guns inaccurate to history about the old west. Even from the holsters they were prominent, it was one of many alterations drug had performed. And his build... Certainly more brawny than that of the average hat, nothing too prominent, but enough to get a pleasant view. Diana covered Flug's eyes with her hair that seemed to move on its one. Her hair didn't totally obscure his view of Coal Hat, but it did however block Coal Hat's view of Flug's eyes.

Spurs jingled again as he began to approach the two, Diana was about to greet him but went silent as he walked right passed them. CV had rested behind the two, and that's who he was heading for, the blue pony tucked his hooves and looked down. Coal Hat took a seat on the pony's back before petting him gently. Coal sat back with his legs spread and gaze focused on the rogue toon.

"So.... Diana...... What was so important that you had to pitch your blood AND take me from the middle of a heist for?" He asked.

A basket of apple fries were left under a box being supported by a stick with string tied to it. A sign reading "free non lethal apple fries" right n the box -Diana/

Flug eyed the box with suspicion, realising that this was obviously some kind of trap. For a few minutes, he simply ignored it, returning to his work, but… he was hungry, and apple fries did sound pretty good. “…You know what, fine. I’ll bite.” He mumbled, clambering towards the fries. He could have followed the string, or even lifted the box, but he didn’t. He wanted to know what this was about.

@dianathediabolicaldoodle