#this time around i also had a way easier time identifying what was bugging me while i was working on it and actually addressing those thing

[dizzybizz]

redraw of a galo from last year!!! :3

side-by-side comparison :-)

#i thought this didnt take too long and apperantly it took like 7 hours. i thought it was like 3 or 4. #my sense of time is. a bit skewed n fucked up. #promare #galo thymos #my fav rooster ever #my art #i kinda rlly love how this one turned out :D i think ive improved a lot too DJAHGSHG i love doing redraws sm #like the pose is way closer to what i was imagining and mmm yeah its also just more dynamic n his body doesnt cut off awkwardly #i like the colors and face better #i do think the og has a lot of charm. i dont hate it or anything. i just like seeing how far ive come :) #this time around i also had a way easier time identifying what was bugging me while i was working on it and actually addressing those thing #like i resized his head a lot n tilted his whole upper body etc #idk ive just been getting more comfortable and confident with my art :))) #ok enough. ENOUGHHHHH. anyways i love galo so much ok thats all

[gaywriterlincs]

Episode 3: Thomas’s First Day (Thomas’s Perspective)

I opened my eyes that morning and anxiously rolled out of bed. My bedroom was still littered with boxes that had big black marker pens scrawled on them, which read: DVDs, old toys, and clothes. We had only just moved into the house; leaving everything that we knew behind. For the last two weeks, I've wanted nothing more than to move back home; it's where my friends were, the rest of my family and I knew where I was going if I wanted to go out. My bare feet touched the warm shaggy carpet and I pulled on a t-shirt that had been slung across the end of my bed. It was best that I had something other than just my boxer shorts on. 

"Tom! You need to get up, you don't want to miss your first day," my mother sang from downstairs. 

I stood and manoeuvred my way across the dangerously littered floor and headed to the bathroom. I followed my usual routine of peeing, using the shower, brushing my teeth and then combing my hair perfectly before spraying aftershave like it was bug spray. It seemed easier this morning, somehow. I looked in the mirror. I had allowed my hair to get longer than I would usually like it. It was long enough for a quiff but also long enough for it to hang there if I didn't want to do anything to it.

"Thomas hurry up," my mother's voice bellowed again as my hand reached the door handle.

I didn't bother to respond as I presumed she would have heard the creaking of the door as I exited, heading back to my room. My bedroom, although, not very tidy had been decorated before I was allowed to use it. There were football posters hung on the freshly grey-painted walls, and these were who I aspired to be. My favourite player at the moment was Harry Cane. He had led England to the final of the World Cup but he seemed to be especially humble too. I moved around the room before opening my wardrobe and pulled out the freshly ironed uniform; a white shirt, an off-coloured grey blazer with the school's logo on it, and a striped black and white tie with black trousers. This was much more formal than I had been used to. I quickly removed the towel, which I had wrapped around me after the shower, and began to get dressed. I decided that I at least wanted some good luck on my first day. I pulled on my favourite Pikachu pair of socks, hoping they'd bring me luck, and headed down the stairs.

Breakfast was quiet today. Usually, mom would be making a racket with pots, and pans and lining my stomach with all sorts of foods. However, that wasn't happening today. I picked at a piece of buttered white toast until only half was left, and then excused myself from the table before slipping my new shiny black school shoes on in the hallway. It was then that I felt a presence behind me, my mother began to rush me.

"We haven't got time this morning for slowness, Tom."

She had my backpack in hand and attempted to budge me by lifting my arm. I looked at her with raised eyebrows, and a small smile crept onto her face. She handed the backpack to me, unlocked the front door and ushered me out. She quickly hopped into the grey Vauxhall Corsa and set the satnav up. I clambered in, internally worrying about my first day at Tantin All Boys' school, dropping my backpack into the footwell.

I knew nothing about this school, even Google had very little information except for the basics and that OFSTED had rated it as GOOD on several occasions. I had never had to worry about school before as I had remained in the same friendship group since primary school. I'd also never been to an all-boys school before so I had no idea what kind of testosterone-filled idiots roamed its corridors. I overthought every issue that I could imagine until the car stopped outside the towering green rusting gates. An old-worn large sign was attached directly out front which identified we had arrived at the right place. 

"Have a good first day but quickly as I've got places to be," my mother expressed as much love as ever, with her eyes rolling the longer I sat in the car. 

"I'll be fine."

I grabbed my backpack from the footwell of the car and opened the door, anxiety burrowing out of me. I swung my legs and exited, the cold winter air smacking me in the face. Taking a deep breath, I closed the car door and without hesitancy, my mother drove away instantaneously. I was now on my own. I held my head down, attempting to draw no attention to myself. I counted the cracks in the pavement as I walked towards the entrance of the school. People were pushing and shoving their way into the school; loud conversations entered my eardrums. I lifted my head to look for signs that pointed me in the direction of the reception. Nothing. There was no sign pointing towards the reception and I wandered around the large entrance hall before heading down one of the corridors, taking my first left, opening a set of double doors and closing them behind me. Minutes passed as a loud bell rang, echoing across the school before halting to a dead silence. I was lost.

"Aren't you supposed to be in a lesson?" A loud husked voice asked with dominance.

I turned around, almost fearfully and faced the person that the voice belonged to. He was a lot taller than I was, a wild grey beard absorbed his face and dark piercing brown eyes stared into my soul as his glasses were perched on the tip of his long crooked nose. He moved forwards a few steps and tilted his head, anticipating my response.

"Erm..." I coughed. "I'm new here and I don't know where I'm going," I rushed breathlessly.

"Follow me."

He pivoted, limping his way through the set of doors I had pushed open moments earlier and I followed sheepishly. Seconds later we arrived at an aging wooden desk where a pile of paperwork sat, unworked, and a steaming cup of coffee sat next to an old Dell computer.

"You must be Master Thomas Dixon, correct?" He growled.

I nodded as he picked up some of the unworked paperwork and shoved them towards me. I grabbed them from his hand and his long bony finger tapped the top piece of paper sitting in my hand.

"Timetable. Follow it. First floor, second right now off you go."

I didn't dare stay any longer as he gave me the creepiest feeling. I almost ran, following the man's directions before stopping outside of a classroom that had a fold plaque attached to the door which read: Science - Henry Cox. I opened the door which squeaked, and everyone stared in my direction. I introduced myself and was pointed towards my seat by a very small man dressed in a white lab coat and goggles whom I presumed to be the owner of this classroom.

That was exactly how the rest of my day went. Awkward interactions with other boys as I tried to find my way across the school. Science, double mathematics, and lunch. That was my favourite part of the day. This was followed by English literature and then English Language. It wasn't until my final class of the day that the teacher had sought me out before the class began, to introduce himself and ensure I wasn't late. He was an older gentleman in a tweed blazer, blood-red tie and khaki trousers. 

"I'm Mr Keet," He announced happily before escorting me to the lesson.

I sheepishly followed him as he opened the door to the full classroom except for one table. The boy sitting at that table looked extremely shy; his shirt curling black hair hid half of his face, although, I could make out his pointy chin and his ears poked out of his curling hair.

"Good afternoon 11E. We have a new student joining us today, please be kind," Mr Keet ushered me forward and pointed at the almost empty table: "Please be seated over there."

I walked over, feeling my hair move with every step that I took. My heart beat faster as I neared the table, looking around the room as people chattered and stared at me as though I was an attraction at the zoo. The table next to the one that I was going to be sitting at had a group of five boys sitting at it and they waved, shouting at me to sit with them. I ignored them and headed to the allocated seat I was given. I pulled out the chair and slumped it to the plastic chair. I turned, looked at the guy next to me and then listened intently to Mr Keet who had started the lesson.

"Hello."

 He didn't respond but turned his head to look at me for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes glazed over at this point. I asked if he was okay as I was now concerned for his well-being.

"Hi," He responded quietly before coughing to clear his throat.

I smiled but why? It was the first time that I had smiled all day but I had no reason to. His face turned redder by the minute so I thought that I'd best not say much more.

"Do you have a name?" I asked as I unzipped my backpack, pulling out the pens and notebooks that I'd need. I began to write.

"Leo."

His face returned to a pasty white.

"I'm Thomas, nice to meet you."

The conversation between the two of us was kept to a minimum over the next hour. However, on occasion, I did notice him staring at me from the corner of my eye. I didn't say anything and continued to take notes and listen to the contributions of the other students. The bell rang. I had never seen someone pack everything up so quickly as he had done then. Leo ran out of the classroom, and out of sight. I must have looked extremely confused and the four boys who'd sat at the opposite table came over.

"I'm Lewis, this is Connor, James and Josh," He said pointing at each boy in turn.

"I'm Thom..."

"Next time don't worry about sitting with him, you can sit with us," Lewis interrupted. 

I grabbed my belongings and gave no response to what he had just said. I had no reason not to sit with him and the attitude of this testosterone-riddled-idiot was nauseating.

"You know he's gay, right?" One of the others asked. I'd already forgotten their names.

"A faggot," Lewis coughed and then howled at his homophobic comment.

I shrugged. My problem - how do I leave the classroom without looking like I'd befriended the most homophobic group of people I'd met in the school, so far? I puffed out my chest and mentally accepted that we'd all be walking in the same direction and if I was being honest to myself, I needed the helping hand navigating my way to the exit. I walked alongside them, making noises and nodding at the right places in their conversation. We made our way to the exit; snow had piled high outside and I had lost track of how long it had been snowing for. Considering there were large windows in the last classroom, I must have been distracted. Our feet crunched on the snow as we stepped outside and I pretended to laugh at something Lewis had said. It was then that I spotted Leo at the green metallic gates with another guy that I hadn't yet met. They turned around at that exact moment and watched as hundreds of us left the building and made our way towards them.

I was hoping to lose Lewis and the others but as soon as I escaped the gates and turned right, they were in tow asking where I lived and whether I had a girlfriend, and whether I'd sit with them tomorrow. Stupid questions. I ignored most of their questions and continued to fixate on what they'd said about Leo being gay before picking up a handful of snow, balling it up and throwing it at one of the boys. Within seconds, Lewis had turned it into a full-on snowball fight. I was frozen by the time I managed to escape their snowballs. I launched my Maps app to assist me in getting home. All the while, I couldn't stop thinking about Leo who had been the nicest guy I had met all day.

#gay romance #boy meets boy #gay #heartstopper #lesbian #trans #lgtbq fiction #fiction #writing #lgbtq

[balkanradfem]

The basics of growing food

So, growing food sounds very intimidating, and in reality, it's something people knew how to do thru all history, and it's made even easier by new methods of 'no till' and 'no dig' garden. I didn't know almost anything about it until 3 years ago, when I got a plot in a community garden and started growing food with no experience. Still it went good! Here's what I learned:

The basics are as simple as 'if you put a seed underground and keep it wet, it's going to come out.' If you start off from that, even if you know nothing else, eventually you will succeed. The additional stuff is done to ensure success. The biggest actual issue of gardening isn't how, but when. When are you supposed to put all the seeds underground to get good harvest? For most of the plants, it can be as simple as 'Spring'. For others, it's very important just when in the spring you plant it.

Let's say you want to start your first garden, you want to plant some onions, lettuce, peas, green beans, tomatoes, peppers and zucchini. All of these can be planted in the spring! But these plants are sorted in 2 categories: Those who can survive a frost, and those who cannot. We call these 'frost hardy' (those who survive the frost) and frost-tender (those plants will die if they're exposed to lower than 0 temperatures). From the ones I listed, onions, lettuce and peas are frost hardy! It means you can plant them very early in spring, such as February and March, and they can be hit with snow and ice and be just fine. They can also be planted in autumn, and they only really start growing in the spring.

Green beans, tomatoes, peppers, and zucchini are frost-tender, meaning you absolutely can't grow them before the chance of freezing temperatures is gone. This is known in gardening as 'the last frost date'. Every area has a different last-frost date, so it's good to google yours to be sure you're planting these when it's safe to do so. For me it's mid-April.

Now, since it's a long time to wait for your plants to grow if you've only planted the seeds in mid April, people have found a way around it by planting the seeds in little containers inside of their house, or in a greenhouse, so they grow in a nice warm place on a windowsill, and are moved out in the ground when it's warm and safe. This is a very fun thing to do as you will have bunch of little plants growing in your home. Important thing to know about it is to use really light and airy soil, not garden soil, (you can use forest soil!) and to make sure you're not over-watering them and you give them as much light as possible.

Soil is another big thing in gardening, the grass grows so easily from it, but you can't exactly plant your seeds into the grass; they will get suffocated. For a long time people have tilled the ground to make it empty of all the weeds and easy to handle; however this isn't healthy for the soil, because it ruins the quality of top-soil, exposes it to sun and wind erosion, and it dries up very easily. Here are some beneficial methods of gardening: mulching and no-dig. Mulching means adding stuff like hay, straw, tree leaves, woodchips, pine needles on top of the soil. You're protecting your soil from sun, wind, erosion, drying out, and if your mulch is thick and dark enough, no weeds will grow in your garden. You are gardening by science.

So what does this mean for you, when you're standing before a patch of grass, thinking of turning it into a garden? You need to do this months before the actual planting, using time to your benefit is the smartest thing a gardener can do. You pick a patch of land and bring in everything you can on top: cut grass, hay, tree leaves you raked or found, straw if you have any, woodchips, anything that will stop the grass from growing. If you really want to build up your soil you can bring in compost too! All that organic material will eventually turn into compost and fertilize your garden as it degrades to soil. It's important to not mix it with the soil, and to only keep it on top of the plants. Mixing it will deplete the soil of nitrogen, and you need nitrogen to grow anything green. If you keep bringing in organic material for years of gardening, and on top of that put some compost as well, in 3-5 years your soil will become so rich and soft you will no longer have to use tools to plant in it.

But, hey, if it's your first time, you don't need to aim for perfection. If you didn't prepare your soil in the fall, whatever! You can still pull the weeds, dig around a little to make some clear soil, and plant your stuff! I've done this last-minute planting and it works just fine. Mulching and adding organic material is only the easiest, most scienc-y way to garden.

The next big thing in gardening is spacing and depth: how far apart should your plants be? And how deep to plant them? For depth, the rule of the thumb is 'twice as deep as the seed is tall'. But I've seen people pull various shit in this area and succeed so do what you want. As of spacing, I would also say, try out what fits for you. It takes a year of gardening to get a sense of just how big the plants get, and what would be ideal spacing for each of them. I decided only on my third year to plant tomatoes VERY far apart, because I realized in this case, one plant will give me more than 8kg tomatoes and it's much less work than planting 3 times as many plants that are close together. Peas seem to like to grow close tho, for some reason. Sometimes you can decide you want a bunch of tiny plants because you'll eat them young, so you don't space them on purpose, people do that with lettuce, leeks, spinach. If you want your plants as big as possible with as much yield as possible, give them half a meter and see what happens.

Fertilization is another big thing in gardening; if you add a lot of compost and mulch your garden consistently, you won't need a lot more; however there's a cool free trick you can do (if you're not currently sick): you can mix your urine with 10x water, and water your plants with that. And I really mean mix it with 10x water! Plants can get very fried by it and start to wilt if they're bombed with too much fertilizer at once! There are rules for this: use it when you want your plants to grow a lot of greenery, not if you want them to flower or produce fruit. This fertilizer is rich in nitrogen, and nitrogen inspires plants to grow more leaves! If you wanna fertilize them later in their growth, put a lot of nettle plants in a big container with water, leave it in the sun for 10 days; when it starts to smell real bad, it's ready. (you can also do this with comfrey). Also dilute it with 10x water! Don't use these fertilizers on bean or pea plants, or any legume, they don't like it.

Now I've given you so much info at once, you're probably struggling to take it all in, so here's a good youtube channel where I learned all I know: Roots and Refuge. If you watch this lady garden for long enough, she will tell you all of the secrets.

I remember being a first time gardener overwhelmed with worry; what if I fail, what if nothing grows, what if I kill all the plants, what if I have a black thumb, what if the plants die because I am stupid, what if I put all of this work in and get nothing, what if people make fun of me, what if I run into problems I won't be able to solve. Here are some of the answers to these!

A part of what you grow will DEFINITELY DIE. I can guarantee it, it happens to everyone, every single garden in the world has had plants die, sometimes for no reason at all, but in no case will EVERYTHING die. We all count on a part of our plants dying, becoming slug food, not doing well in general, and we always plant 30% more than we absolutely need. Even if you are personally responsible for killing the plants, the plants will not hold it against you! Plants appreciate you spreading their seed regardless of success, they understand that by trying multiple times you will eventually succeed and they absolutely want you to learn thru occasional failure. The answer is again to plant a lot, and it never ever happened that nothing came out of it. Most often, it's not going to be your fault at all. Sometimes the year will be good for tomatoes and carrots, and bad for peas. It's all okay! Because you just planted extra peas, and you'll get more tomatoes than you expected to have.

If you have the desire to plant food, you do not have a black thumb; the green thumb is in the heart that yearns to grow. You're not stupid if your plants die, plants die for everyone. And people are likely to come at you with million advice; listen to no one, try everything yourself. If they make fun of you, they're gonna look real stupid when you have home-grown food. Any problem you might run into while gardening is google-able! Or you can join a page of gardeners and they'll be happy to identify the issue.

The real main issue with gardening are slugs and bug-type pests, and that is a problem for another day because all I know to do is to yeet those away by hand and shake my finger very sternly at them. Hope this helps!

#growing food #food growing basics #gardening #diy #planting food #plants #home grown food #garden

[ruthlesslistener]

how is the pale king autistic? is it just because hes cold and reclusive or is there smth else

Well, part of it is that we sort of extrapolate our own personalities off of him, and that I myself am autistic, so he's autistic because I see a lot of myself in his actions so when I write him, his perspective is close to mine. And he's a god, so for a wyrm he's probs 'normal'. But to us he'd be considered autistic because:

-He has very specialized interests that he excels in (civil engineering, building a kingdom)

-It's implied that he spent much of his time working on his projects

-He's very logical vs emotional, and it is implied that he has an issue with identifying emotions or responding correctly to emotional stimuli. The horror with the Vessel Plan that many people feel is due to humans being hardwired with strong parental instincts, and is illogical (well, it makes sense evolutionarily speaking, but still). If the Pale King was working entirely off of his (flawed) data, however, then creating a vessel for the Radiance out of void and god makes perfect sense, and faliures would have been attributed to errors in the experimental process, as he was incapable of truely understanding the void. Hence, why there's so much refuge from the project; he kept going because it was the most logical plan, and likely the most mathematically favoriable in terms of lives saved vs bodies discarded

-Touching on the bad at processing emotions thing, it's implied that he didn't realize he had a parental affection for his children until one passed the Abyss trials and had some time to be with him, after which he had a canonical extremist response to said love (the Path of Pain). This fits with many autistic people having very overwhelming emotions. For me personally, my default is feeling nothing, which then spikes with very sharp, intense emotions based on stimuli. Special interests give me happiness so intense that I feel like my body is made of overflowing cola, bad stimuli like eye contact gives me distress so extreme it's physically painful, and anything that is mildly interesting or annoying is so minimal it might not exist. So PK feeling very very little until it SUDDENLY HITS HIM THAT HE HAD CHILDREN AND THEY SUFFERED AND HE LOVED THEM AND ITS HIS FAULT AND EVERYONE HE LOVED WILL DIE BECAUSE OF HIM is very much an autistic trait. Or at least, it's mine. My emotional processing is absolute shit, I depend entirely on logic to figure stuff out

-It's canon that he was extremely reclusive, which usually stems from avoiding people not just bc of social anxiety, but also because they are absolute sensory hell. We don't know if wyrms were social beings, so it could be that he just didn't know why bugs wanted to be around him, but the White Lady is a tree and she seems social enough, so sensory issues might have also been a huge issue for him; something noticible about the White Palace dreamscape, for example, is that the lighting becomes dimmer and the rooms less open until the path directly to him is dark and enclosed, much like a tunnel in the earth

-Speaking of his special interests (engineering), we can see the contrast between the meticulous care put into the architecture of Hallownest and the way he handled the bargains with Deepnest. Hallownest architecture is extremely distinct and does not carry over into territories not his own, but he pretty much lost on every front except for getting a Dreamer when bartering with Herrah. Siring her heir ensures that he can't invade, as there is now a strong foe on the throne who is also his kin, we don't know what Hallownest traded with Deepnest to get their silk but its implied they bought it, and when he tried to get a tram in there to make transport easier, they destroyed it. So his political skills are not on the same level as his architecture or engineering skills

-Also his conquering skills are shit. He literally only claimed one section of Hallownest?? And then failed to kill the one god that might have lived in it??? TWICE??? Which loops back to me thinking he had all his eggs in one basket (engineering), as lots of autistic people, myself included, are outstanding in their special interests and then just Don't Get everything else. Hallownest is likely only the size it is and as successful as it was because the beetle tribe was already living there, and bc him and WL worked as a pair while all the other gods are single. Their territory is roughly equal to two god's worth, honestly

-He's autistic bc I'm autistic. Seriously, everyone has subconcious influences on how they write characters, and me being autistic likely is why he has so many traits. His brain works like mine does, bc I'm the one pulling the strings. It's also why you don't see me writing human/human analogous characters much, because I seriously struggle with them and have a very hard time making them work; animalistic characters or weirdos like the Pale King that lie outside of that boundary are my jam, bc I write them from my own perspective and hcs

#Hollow knight #Pale king #The pale king #Anon #Reply #Writing #Technically hes not analogous to us #But he def. Reads like he is

[ckret2]

skelien scene 2

Does your executive ever dysfunction so hard that you casually start a novel

###

The skeleton wasn't sure how much time had passed between collapsing into the hammock to get lost in a trivial stream of data, and the sound of someone quietly picking the deadbolt lock. Rolling over to swing its gaze from the blank wall to the nearest window rocked the hammock so violently it almost fell out. Still dark. Or dark again. Hard to tell. Head too fuzzy to find a clock to check.

It reached down to grab up a mask off the floor as it called to the would-be intruder at the door, "It's unlocked."

The quiet scratching stopped. The door didn't open.

Fuck's sake. It rolled out of the hammock gracelessly, tripped over a box of old spelunking gear, and managed to stumble to a vertical position as it clattered toward the door. "I said it's unlocked. That's an implicit invitation, see, it means I want you to come in. Why are you less likely to come in when I actually want you to? Is it only satisfying if you know you're not wanted, is that it?"

The skeleton opened the door. The hall was empty.

"Come on," it griped loudly, unconcerned about how many neighbors it was about to annoy. "What are you here for? Were you here to rob me? Rough me up for somebody I hit? You can come back! I'm fine with that! I've got too much shit anyway! Talk to me about your business model, I'm behind the times on the burglary industry! Seriously"—there was an edge of desperation to its voice—"you've got no idea what a favor you'd be doing me. I'm about to starve to death from boredom. I'm not even offended. Come back?"

The hall was silent.

It considered fighting through its mental haze to try to hunt down the almost-intruder—bolt for the fireproof stairwell and jump the railings to race them down to the first floor—but no, it decided tiredly, there were too many ways it could miss the intruder—what if they went up to the roof, what if they lived in the complex and had gone home, what if it was waiting in the lobby while they were already out on the streets or what if they made it down to the lobby slowly while it was already out on the streets searching—and wandering the over-familiar streets in a fever of boredom didn't seem likely to do anything to clear the haze from their mind or chase the itch from their marrow. It might as well stay here where it was comfortable.

It groaned, let its joints go loose, and collapsed backward on the floor. It lifted one foot to press its calcaneus against the edge of the door and shove it closed.

A shadow moved behind it.

It rolled over with a clatter, grabbed the first object its phalanges brushed—a set of binoculars—and hopped to its feet with the binoculars raised in preparation to use them as an impromptu bludgeoning weapon. Under its breath, it muttered, "Thank fuck."

The figure was silhouetted black in the window, their edges smooth and formless—wearing some kind of robe. Their round goggles reflected all the tiny electronic lights in the room, looking like glittering bug eyes or a multicolored starry sky. It could think of several religious orders that called for robes like that, but no groups with a reputation for sneaking into people's apartments, and none that also mandated goggles like that. Not a uniform, then, but some individual's idea of a stealthy outfit. This could be anybody, sent by anybody.

"Are you here to kill me or hire me?" it asked.

The vague shape didn't move or answer.

"Great. A job." Without turning away, it leaned back to click the deadbolt on its door shut. "Let's lay out some ground rules here. First, I don't intimidate easy. I'm nearly as old as god, I've seen it all, I've done it all, and no matter how mysterious you get, I'm not going to forget that you're either just another person with a home life and interior thoughts or else you're a clever machine built by one. Pull the whole silent-and-inscrutable routine, and I have two emotional reactions: curious or bored. I spend more time than you could possibly imagine bored, so if you keep this up long enough that I run out of curiosity, I kick you out of my window, and you're the one who's going to have to recover from a bad first impression if you still want to hire me. We clear?"

The vague shape remained silent.

"Terrific." It hung its binoculars' strap around its neck and started circling around the shape, half heartedly attempting to clean the room to give its guest an easier walking path and perhaps somewhere to sit. The clutter of hobbies past shifted like sand dunes, opening a vague trail toward a desk whose chair was piled high with calligraphy materials. "Second: if you want me to shut up, give me a reason to. Threats don't count. Either give me something more interesting to do than talk or something more interesting than myself to listen to. It's easier than it sounds. You could start by talking." It looked around for somewhere to set its pile of nice paper and pen boxes, used an elbow to shove a toolkit on the edge of the desk closer to the center, and plopped the papers down where the toolkit had been. "Three—this isn't a rule, but I'm going to forget it if I don't say it now—" It plopped down in the desk chair and fixed its guest with a keen look. "I'm very interested in that little trick you pulled—getting past me without me seeing. How did you pull that off?" It realized it had taken the seat it had been clearing off for its guest, hopped up, and gestured invitingly to it. "Some kind of invisibility tech? An accomplice at the door to distract me while you sneak in the window? Are you a little drone in a big cloak that shuffled across the floor like a pile of moving laundry while I was looking down the hall?"

The shape didn't answer; but after a moment, they swept across the floor to claim the empty seat. They cut a smooth path across the cluttered floor, no lurching or zigzagging to dodge the many items underfoot; and the skeleton didn't feel the air stir as they passed.

"A drone," it concluded. "Not wearing laundry, though. A hologram projector?" Guessing, it added, "Shoved in through the keyhole?"

"Clever." The shape's voice emanated from behind its goggles and was slightly tinny, as if coming through a cheap earbud, and sounded just on the masculine side of androgyny. "It's not what we need you for, though."

"That's what you think." The skeleton danced through its clutter like navigating an obstacle course, tripped again over the spelunking supplies, and heaved itself into its hammock. "But go on, you've got my attention. Undivided, even. What's the job, Mr. Googly Eyes?" It tilted its head. "Mister? Miss? Other?"

"Mister is fine," Googly Eyes said. "We believe we've identified a grave threat to our nation's government. We think you're well-qualified to deal with it."

"You sound like a conspiracy nut. That's not a dealbreaker, conspiracy nuts are fun, but I thought you should know," the skeleton said. "You say 'we've identified,' who's 'we'?"

"The government."

"You sound a little less like a conspiracy nut. Can you prove it?"

"Through a hologram messenger in the middle of the night? No."

"Fair. What kind of threat to the government?"

"I can't discuss the details—"

"No no, just a broad overview," the skeleton said. "Just this much: religious or secular?"

Googly Eyes was silent, head turning to the side as if glancing back over his shoulder at the wall. The skeleton could imagine him covering his microphone as he whispered a hasty question to some supervisor.

But after a moment he faced the skeleton again. "Secular."

"All right. I'm in."

Sounding faintly amused, he said, "Only knowing that much?"

"You know how easily bored I get, don't you?"

"It's mentioned in your file, yes."

"Does it mention the kind of things I do when I'm very bored?"

Googly Eyes stayed silent.

The skeleton leaned forward, so far it threatened to tumble out of its hammock. "Right now, I am very bored," it said. "I'm in."

#writing #my writing #skelien #(I'm trying to finish a commission but got hit by several Inconveniences that are taking JUST enough mental energy so I can't focus on it) #(instead I CAN focus on... 1500 words of something completely unrelated) #(anyway I've been meaning to do something with this idea for Ages so might as well kick this out into the wild to see what y'all think)

[ghost1643]

Saiki K corpse bride au

So before we start let me tell you this is a non ship fic for Saiki. It's more like a revival short story about friendship more than romantic relationship.

It is also based off an old AU idea I had of necromancer Shun.

It also works with trans Saiki, which is canon.

~~~~~~💍~~~~~~~

Our story starts when Shun is 8 and the family dog runs out into the road. He doesn't know how when he stops to think about it. He just remembers his baby brother and dog going out to play, then popping his head out to seeing the car hit it.

His brother screams running to their mother leaving Shun to go pick up the poor thing. He slowly takes them into his arms sniffling as he wraps their tiny body up with his own coat to keep his brother from being scared for life.

Shun then sits on the lawn sniffling cradling the dog in his arms. Yet, as he mourns he finds he cut himself on something. Maybe it was the dog's claw. Maybe it was on the road. All he knows it's that his blood dropped on the dogs nose...and suddenly he could feel it's body shifting.

The dogs body shifted back to the way it was before and it wide awake. Just like that he preforms his only revival as his mother comes rushing out. Thankfully when the dog is brought back, sure with a broken leg, but he brought him back. He brought back their dog.

A dog that lived for another 5 years until turning 15 and dying peacefully in its sleep.

He's also revived bugs before. Right after this he found a smushed butterfly and got curious if maybe his dog wasn't really dead...maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

So he pricks his finger and drops some of his blood on the smushed butterfly. The butterfly pops back into its lively form, flying off. He's resurrected a butterfly.

And from there he starts to convince himself that he's the jet black wing, just like in the manga. He's determined to prove that he's got this power for a reason. He has to have them for a reason.

....which comes back to bite him in the butt one day in high school.

~~~~~~~~~💍~~~~~~

So to put it simply ...shun messed up. Let's just say that.

To be honest he should have thought this through more. All he knew was that his friends asked him to come to a Halloween party, and he was determined to prove he was the jet black wing once there. They had been joking about the powers he had told them he had.

"No Shin I can get most of it. Like the magic hand thing I could see how that pops into your head." Aren sighs looking at him. Shun blushed looking down at the campfire as his few friends talked around him about him.

"Yeah, and we can see how you got the whole magic bought thing.." Chisato says leaning back holding a drink in her hand.

"Look I can do the stu-

"We're not saying you can't we just go a big question.Like how did you get necromancy out of it?" Nedō asks looking genuinely curious.

"What do you mean? I've done it before."

"Suuuuureee you have." Aren sighs.

"No I mean it! My brothers dog go hit by a car and I brought him back! And I brought bugs back before! I mean it!" Shun says determined, mainly cause this is on the one thing he knows he can do. He has done it before. It's the one thing that's made him determined to prove he's special.

"We know it's just kinda hard to believe."

"Oh and Reita talking to ghost is easier to believe!" Shun blurts out glaring at the purple haired boy.

"Yeah well I don't claim to be able to bring them back!"

By now other students are seeing the argument and have stopped to watch.

"Look we aren't-"

"NO, NO I am sick of being to butt of the joke! I will prove it to you! I will revive something for you guys! Name anything! Name a single dead thing and I will revive it!" He yells determined to prove himself. He's done with this all. He's gonna prove he's special and not a liar.

"Shun you don't have to. We just wanna know where the idea came from." Aren sighs holding his hand trying to be supportive. To him this is just his friend trying to find a way to explain why he was so ignored as a child.

"No I'll do it! Name one thing! One thing an I will bring it back!"

"Oh we could send him the the corpse forest!" Saiko suggested from the watching crowd. Everyone just looks seeming pale.

You see the corpse forest is an old forest where people have said to been buried after being murdered for years. So they are told not to go there under any circumstance. Like at all.

So yeah, Shun goes with his friends to the forest to prove he cane revive a body. From here things are gonna spiral.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~💍~~~~~~~~~~

Once in the forest the classmates keep looking for a dead thing. And for once they find nothing but a creepy forest.

After a while they go to give up when they find a branch that Nendo is certain is a hand. Yet, to everyone else it looks like an old withered branch. It looks like it has been through hell and is ready to give out. Not to mention Reita hasn't seen a single ghost here so this isn't a dead person.

Regardless of this they have Shun probe his powers. They have him prick his finger on a rock and have a drop of his blood fall onto the corpse. Fro there they wait...some classmates to tell jokes and his friends to be there for emotional support when it doesn't work again.

So they wait

And wait

And wait.

Nothing happens so the jokes dusty coming from the classmates. Ones about the powerful jet black and his skills. Ones that make him tear up a bit, quickly rubbing his eyes getting a tear wiped off his face which also lands on his hand...

And that’s when it happens.

The branch traces up grabbing the person slides to it, which happens to be Saiko. Everyone screams running off except for Shin and his buds. At first some start to try and pry the hands off of him in a blind panic. Then suddenly Shun drops to his knees and starts digging the hand up. No one clues into why until the digging brings up another hand that’s been trying to free itself.

That’s when those who stuck around realize Shun brought back a person. He brought back a dead person who was currently suffocating in the ground.

Needless to say they dig with him just as the hand lets go of Shun. That is except for Nendo. He seems to just be holding the hand that’s above ground now which he explains had been shaking in fear seconds ago.

As they dig they soon unbury a pink haired corpse who is gasping for breath while their body reforms, while shaking for a second. Once they catch their breath they all just sit around for a second wondering what the hell just happened when Nendo speaks up, still seeming to hold the hand, (that is now clinging to him since the corpse is still scared crap less of what they just experienced no matter how much he denies it) speaks up.

“So we’re all buddies with a necromancy..pretty cool...”

~~~~~~~💍~~~~~

The body Shun brought back belonged to Saiki, a young Psyche from the 1800’s, who was killed by a supposed suitor for identify different from his birth gender. A suitor who may or may not have stole Saikis money when he was killed, and may have buried him alive without telling any one of their families. And by bringing him back, Shun has effectively given him a second chance at life..a life with enhanced powers.

Turns out once when a Psychic is revived their powers just jump up and get better. Shun doesn’t know how gut all he knows for sure is when Saiki first described his power to read minds and float an object in the air, he definitely didn’t mention being able to teleport.

Of course they learn this together when Shun moves Saiki into his father’s old abandoned work room which hasn’t been used for year since his dad left. And it takes so readjusting for the both of them. Shun, to have a person in his life who was picked on for being special too and having someone who acts more like a father than his ever did in his life. Saiki, for living in a more accepting time and with new powers seeming to pop up every other day now.

Thankful Shun’s friends are there to help keep the peace and keep everyone happy...and in Nendō’s case get some new people to try new restaurants with.

Either way they’re happy he’s around, and happy to have a new friend.

(This idea may be built upon more later down the line lol)

#saiki kusuo no psi nan #Saiki k #saiki k one shot #Oneshot #fanfic #shun #saiki kusuo #fanfcition #fanfiction #Fanfic #corpse bride au #au #Nendō #nendo riki #ideas

[thewritinggrindstone]

Identifying Harmful Repetition in Your Writing

Something I’ve encountered ad nauseam over the last few projects I’ve edited is a relentless repetition of words, phrases, and ideas. One of the most frustrating and confidence-destroying issues a reader can encounter is poorly executed repetition, which can stem from different problems, including:

Too much reliance on your natural stock phrases.

Limited vocabulary.

Not proofreading close enough or editing thoroughly enough.

Lack of confidence.

Not writing with the reader in mind.

I want to preface this with the fact that obviously certain types of repetition aren’t bad. Repetition is an incredibly powerful tool when used effectively, and what’s effective is subjective per book and per reader. That’s a massive topic for another time. This post is specifically about egregious uses of repetition, the types that any good editor or beta reader will point out as in need of fixing.

Stock Phrases and Words

Every person has their own unique lexicon, a repository of words and phrases they naturally will draw upon when they speak, write, and even think. There’s a reason clichés are prevalent, and that’s because the brain likes the path of least resistance. It’s easy to mentally grab those words and phrases that are constantly in arm’s reach, those words and phrases that are comfortable and familiar, but constantly doing this while writing and then not changing them can result in overuse that is noticeable on both stylistic and technical levels. It can also lead a reader to the understanding that you haven’t thought critically about what you’re writing, which can and will undermine their confidence in you.

If you’re writing a first draft, don’t worry about this too much. You probably just need to focus on putting words down, not exactly what those words are. Repetition is an issue that can and should be intentionally fixed during the revision process.

If this is a problem that bugs you even when you’re drafting, there are different ways of dealing with it. I tend to be highly aware of most repetition within my work, and because I constantly edit as I write, backtracking to add/move information as I go doesn’t tend to interrupt my workflow too much. If I know I’ve already used a word and can’t think of something better after several seconds’ thought, I’ll use the repetition and immediately flag it somehow—usually with a “repeat” comment—so I can deal with it once I’ve completed the draft. Opening a thesaurus or dictionary tends to be more disruptive during drafting than it’s worth, but sometimes it isn’t, and you will need to determine what works best for you according to your own style.

Once you’re ready to target the issue of repetition, you will need to work hard, think hard. Don’t settle for the easy word, the stock phrase, the cliché. Discard the timeworn, the tired, the used-before. Play with language—try to come up with new phrases, unique descriptions. Get silly, flip rocks over, dig around under them, push things as far as you need to create something different, then go back and edit again, refining what you’ve written until you’re satisfied.

It’s going to be a process. It’s going to be difficult. It won’t be natural at first; you’ll need to form new pathways in your brain, just like when you learn any new skill, and that’s uncomfortable, but if you persist, your writing will be fresh and alive and won’t be as prone to being bogged down by reader-infuriating repetition.

Limited Vocabulary

Tying into the idea of your personal lexicon is the size of it. No matter how much you pay attention to precisely what words or phrases you’re using, you won’t have much in the way of options if you don’t have at least a good-sized repertoire to draw from.

Increasing your lexicon is something that just takes dedication and time. You can’t rush it, you can’t force it, but you can be deliberate in growing it. Read broadly, maybe bookmark or sign up for your favorite dictionary’s word of the day, or keep a word cache of interesting words or phrases you like.* I have a document titled “word hoard” in Dropbox where I keep all unusual, unfamiliar, or beautiful words I encounter as well as their function(s) and definitions. Most of these words haven’t properly entered my own lexicon yet, but actively being aware of words that are anywhere from slightly to completely outside what you usually use will help you become a more mindful writer.

* I got this idea from Barbara Baig’s Spellbinding Sentences, which is one of my favorite books I’ve ever read on writing.

Lack of Proofreading/Editing

The identification and elimination of repetition hovers somewhere between content editing and technical editing. It’s an easy problem to skim over, especially when you’re the writer because you’re likely too familiar with every word you’ve put down, and issues like this tend to fade into the background. This is particularly true of writers who have reworded or reorganized a given piece of writing, since repetition can easily become lost in the jumble.

If possible, set your project aside for at least a few days—preferably a few weeks or even longer—then come back to it and read it with fresh eyes while intentionally noting and commenting on or highlighting all uses of repetition, big and small. If you aren’t sure if it’s something you repeated, flag it anyway—you can always check later.

If you don’t have time to set the project aside for a while, read your work aloud. If you can’t bear reading your work aloud or you aren’t able due to circumstances, listen to the document instead. Word has a read aloud function, and there are many online text-to-speech websites where you can paste a piece of writing. The unnatural cadence of the artificial voice might be weird and awkward at first, but listening won’t fully engage the “reading” portion of your brain, and you’ll likely find it easier to notice uses of repetition, among other problems. While writing this post, I have listened through it three times, tweaking phrasing and eliminating repetition—and deleting some of the harsher statements—as I go.

If you’re feeling really brave, have another person read your writing back at you. Nothing like being uncomfortably hyperaware of every word you’ve put down to recognize pretty much every single problem within your work. Just do not overcompensate and decide that nothing you’ve written has any value at all (it does), or that you’ll need to change everything (you don’t). If you approach this method with the understanding that it’s going to be awkward but are nevertheless determined to get something useful out of it, you’ll benefit, especially if your reading partner is willing to help you with any areas you feel you need assistance in.

When editing for repetition, if possible, pay attention not only to noun/verb/adjective usage. Go deeper. What types of repetition are you prone to using? Do you begin a significant portion of your sentences with conjunctions? Are there certain conjunctions you use more frequently than others? Do you reiterate entire sentences two or more times with only slight variations in wording? Do you return to the same idea numerous times? What about tone, do you use lots of rhetorical questions? Sarcasm? Self-deprecation? Self-boasting? Do you frequently return to the same imagery or settings or use of metaphor? Or grammar—are there certain punctuation marks or grammatical conventions you use more than others? Do you have a sentence construction you consistently fall back on?

Again, some of these questions might require an outside opinion for you to find suitable answers, but becoming self-aware of not just what you do but why you do will help you recognize these patterns, which in turn can help you mentally eliminate repetition before it even makes it past your fingertips.

Lack of Confidence

Widespread repetition of sentences and ideas is often a major symptom of a writer who isn’t confident in their abilities to communicate what they’re talking about. “If I just tell you this fact again, surely you’ll believe me this time. I’ll make you believe me. Do you believe me now? What about now? Now? Now?”

The painful truth is... no.

Encountering mindless or fear-based repetition is extremely frustrating for readers. Inevitably, without fail, every single time I edit a book by a writer who has repeated themselves over and over and over again, with every single repetition, I increasingly doubt both their credibility and their ability to pass on important knowledge to me. I feel either patronized and insulted, or I feel annoyed because it seems like the author threw their thoughts down on paper in whatever order they came out and then hit publish with

no regard for how those thoughts will be perceived by others, and

no regard for how they are wasting the reader’s time.

Please, please do not undermine your credibility by repeating yourself. Readers usually only need to read information one time for them to absorb it, maybe twice, so trust your readers. If the reader needs to come back to information, they have that ability. Do not force unnecessary repetition in their faces. Always assume readers are at least as smart as you. If you don’t need the information repeated, give your readers the same respect.

Increasing your writing confidence will once again take time and effort. You’ll need to determine why you’re not confident and then seek out methods of correcting the issue(s). In general, fear of not being heard or understood tends to be the underlying cause of repetition, so learn how to be deliberate in your writing. Say what you mean to say. Say exactly what you mean to say. Understand that you have something important to share with the world, so share it—then stop. Readers will appreciate you for not wasting their time.

 Writing for Yourself

Yesterday I finished editing a project just over 88,000 words. Nineteen chapters. Almost 250 pages.

I hated every word, and I learned nothing.

If it had been a line edit, I could’ve cut the book’s word count down below 50K merely by eliminating all of the repetition. This author is infatuated with the sound of their own voice, talked on and on and on merely to hear their own self-revelations and how special they are compared to everyone else stated again and again in near-identical sentences.

I’m editing another book right now that is less self-important and is far more interesting on the whole (and is thankfully over a hundred pages shorter), but again, the author has repeated themselves sometimes three or four or five times, with some phrases appearing over fifteen times, and I can feel my resentment growing. If an author isn’t going to take the time to put forth a thoughtfully crafted piece of writing, why should a reader likewise invest in it?

There is absolutely nothing wrong with writing for yourself. You should—you’ll learn a lot about yourself as both person and writer, and you’ll enjoy writing more, and you’ll (hopefully) be able to refine your skills.

But if—if—you intend to share your writing with the world, if you actually have something to say, you need to be aware that you have a duty to make yourself understood without wasting people’s time. Do not make people regret having picked up your writing by being so in love with the sound of your own voice that you are no longer courteous to others.

Love your writing. Love it fiercely and passionately and with reckless abandon, but reach a place where you know how your writing is going to be perceived at large. Use as many words as you need to get your point across and no more.

In Closing

If you’re still having difficulty identifying repetition within your own work, ask someone who is skilled at recognizing this issue to look over your writing. It’s always easier to recognize repetition when you haven’t written it, so fresh eyes can give you the insight you might not be able to see yourself.

Know your audience. A children’s book will require a different level of repetition than an instruction manual or a sci-fi novel or an autobiography. If you’re reading a recipe, you’d be annoyed and confused if the author told you to add the same ingredient twice due to shoddy proofreading. Write and repeat accordingly.

Whatever you’re writing, make a point of intentionally performing at least one round of editing with the intention of eliminating unnecessary repetition. Your readers will appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.

#writing #repetition #editing #proofreading #advice #red talks

[eloquentornot]

My thoughts on the mumblr arg - in short, I think it would be cool if this turns out to actually be Mumbo/connected to the Hermatrix, but I don’t believe it is. (Either way it’s a cool and interesting story.)

The thing is, I'm not 100% sure either way. It looks like it started at around the same time as the antenna at Octagon being activated, and I don’t think anything has happened so far that clearly contradicts what’s happened on Hermitcraft? (Although one thing that bugs me is that, in the story being told here, the esve apparently asked for names/volunteers as if being taken would be the hermits’ own fault, but then took everyone regardless, although maybe the base deeds just made it easier for them to identify where everyone’s stuff was somehow and a mix-up caused the base swap in the world copy? Wait, what if they got Beef’s cloning machine before they noticed Mumbo was missing and used it to replace him, summoning the Hels version of Mumbo?)

But at the same time, the whole situation with Mumbo being an impostor since the start of the base swap seems... unlikely. With the way Mumbo’s been improving this season in his building talent, acting more confident instead of self-deprecating, would it really be a good idea to say that, in the story, all of that was done by a fake? (Maybe there’s a chance the clone is unaware/innocent and the two merge memories at the end or something, but still...)

(Also, I think the only thing we know for sure is that Mumbo denied making the account, once in a Twitter reply, (including a “:)” that could be argued to be either friendly or sus) and never mentioned it again. So it could be really him trying to keep up the mystery, or it could be that it’s not him but he doesn’t want to make a big fuss about it.)

I feel like I keep noticing little hints that could mean it’s really him, but then convincing myself that it’s more likely a coincidence, or that the fan who made the arg is just really paying attention and making things look “realistic” (for lack of a better word) and I think maybe I just want it to be part of the Hermatrix since otherwise there hasn’t been anything about that for a while now, but I don’t want to be disappointed so I choose to believe it’s not, if that makes sense?

(Also during the month of mystery/build-up to the HCBBS I had just watched episode 7 of Welsknight’s season 7 and almost convinced myself of a silly theory I had that the H actually stood for Hels or something, so when the base swap was revealed I was mildly disappointed and then felt bad because it really was a cool event and I’d only made it seem anticlimactic by half expecting something that was unlikely anyway, so now this thing comes up and says that the HCBBS was more ominous than it seemed after all and I just don’t want to be let down again lol.)

#mumbo arg #mumblr arg #so this is what gets me to start posting #hi hermitblr I guess

[bitchin-beskar]

I have to do it, 29. "Sharing a bed" for the fanfic trope prompts. With whichever of Pedro's characters you would like and whichever other tropes you'd like

Unavoidable Consequences

Rating: M (sexual situations, cursing)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This is a Javi x Reader fic, with what is probably my favorite trope of all time. I don’t care how cheesy/cliche it is, the sharing a bed trope always leads to god-tier fics, and I’m so excited to finally get to write Javi!!! (Sorry this took so long @din-damn-djarin, but it’s finally here!!!!!) I may end up doing a part two, eventually, if people are interested in that! Let me know!

Tagging: @theocatkov, @cosmicbug379, @marydjarin, @mxndoscyarika, and @perropascal 

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future works, or if you’d like to be put on a permanent tag list!

There is now a Part 2!!! Read it here!!!

Well shit.

You stared at the lone bed in the middle of the hotel room, feeling a pit form in your stomach. You knew before going on the mission that you’d have to share a bed with your partner–after all, the two of you were going undercover as a married couple–for the duration of the assignment, but actually seeing the bed the two of you were supposed to be sharing really put things into perspective. 

Javi made a soft, questioning noise behind you, and you moved out of his way, your eyes never leaving the bed. You’d tried your best to mentally prepare for this mission, but preparing and then actually doing were two completely separate things. 

You’d been partnered with Javier Peña ever since Murphy had gone home to the states and the bosses had brought Javi back from the states to help deal with the Cali Cartel. The two of you had butted heads at first, but you quickly realized that the reason Javi had an issue with you wasn’t because he didn’t think you were capable, but because he’d seen what sicarios did to women, and he didn’t want that to happen to you.

It had taken the two of you time to trust each other as partners, but just when you were sure the two of you were finally getting a good routine down, your bosses had to throw this assignment at you.

It wasn’t overly complex, but it was dangerous. You and Javi were posing as a couple, tourists coming to visit beautiful Colombia, all while trying to get close enough to the cartel to identify some of the newer players in the cartel. The more people the two of you identified, the easier it would be to take them down later. 

Tonight had been the first night the two of you had actually had to act like a couple. It had been awkward to say the least. You were attracted to Javi, sure, but you had a thing against sleeping with co-workers. You hadn’t noticed if Javi felt similar feelings for you before, but tonight, it had become painfully clear how bad the two of you were at acting. 

You’d jumped every time he touched you, and he could barely look you in the eye. Somehow, the two of you had managed to fool people that you were a couple, but you knew it wouldn’t last if the two of you couldn’t get your acts together.

“Let me shower, compañera, and then I’ll take the floor.”

Despite your inner pep-talk, you still jumped at Javi’s voice. Once you absorbed his words however, you turned and frowned. “Javier, if you think I’m going to let you sleep on the floor when there is a perfectly good bed right there then you don’t know me very well.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you raised your hand, cutting him off. “No, Peña, you’re not sleeping on the floor. We’re both adults, plus it’ll be a bitch for your back to sleep on the carpet all week.” 

Javi looked like he was going to protest, but decided not to, instead grabbing a change of clothes from his suitcase and striding into the bathroom. It was only once the door shut that you slumped on the bed, burying your face in your hands. What the hell had you just signed up for? 

Having showered earlier in the day, you just changed into your sleep clothes. They were actually some of your more modest pajamas, some leggings and an old, baggy, t-shirt, but it was still a lot more casual than anything Javi had ever seen you in before. 

When Javi stepped out of the bathroom, you tried really hard not to ogle. You’d never seen your partner in anything other than a suit, so to see him in a pair of boxers and a ratty t-shirt was striking, to say the least. 

You were pretty sure you managed to hide your embarrassment at seeing him, but you still rushed into the bathroom to brush your teeth, suddenly anxious about being in the same room as him for any length of time. 

You stalled as much as you could, but there wasn’t much for you to do, so you finally exited your safe space, stepping back into the darkened bedroom. Javi had turned a lamp on and was reading the case file, but other than that, it was dark. Setting your stuff down, you awkwardly shuffled into the bed, on the left side, closest to the wall. It didn’t escape your notice that your partner had placed himself very deliberately between where you’d be sleeping and the door–the only entrance into the room. 

Laying down with your back to Javi, you pulled the covers up, almost cringing at the awkward silence that settled like a thick fog over the room. You listened as Javi flipped through a few more pages before sighing deeply, flipping the folder shut and dropping it on the nightstand. The room went dark, and you could feel Javi shuffling behind you trying to get comfortable. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but one thing was bugging you. “Javi?” You whispered. “You still awake?”

There was a pause.

“Yeah, I’m awake.”

“Do you have your gun with you?”

There was another, longer pause.

“Yeah. Does that bother you?”

“No. It makes me feel better, actually.”

There’s a quiet snort. 

“Get some sleep, compañera.”

***

Something woke you up. 

It was pitch black in the room, so you knew it was still night, but you couldn’t figure out what had woken you up. You were usually a pretty heavy sleeper, so for something to have woken you up, it had to be more than just a little noise outside. 

You lay there, silently, still groggy, trying to figure out what was wrong. Just as you were about to give up and try to go back to sleep, you were startled as what you thought was just the blanket around youe waist tightened, and you were pulled across the bed until your back hit a hard chest behind you.

Your eyes flew back open, and you held your breath. Suddenly, you were wide awake. You quickly figured out that it wasn’t the blanket around your waist, but instead Javi’s arm, slung across your body, his warm palm resting on your stomach–thankfully, over your shirt. 

He was pressed against your back, clearly still asleep based on his breathing. His face was buried in your neck, his lips pressed against your bare skin. You could feel his breath against your skin, and goosebumps erupted down your arms. 

Still holding as still as possible, your mind raced, trying to figure out what exactly you should do. You didn’t want Javi to think you were taking advantage of him or anything while he was sleeping, but you also didn’t want to wake him up by squirming around. 

You had to admit, it was kind of nice being held by Javi. Peaceful, comforting even. You thought the two of you might have even entered into a relationship, if you hadn’t been partners and co-workers. But you’d been determined to keep your interactions professional. Your current position certainly wasn’t helping matters.

Resigned, you closed your eyes. If you couldn’t get out of Javi’s grip, then you’d have to just try and sleep. You needed to be well rested for tomorrow.

***

“Psst.”

“Psssst. Compañera, wake up.”

“Wake. Up.”

Your eyes flew open, frantically searching the pitch black for what woke you.

“It’s okay, it’s just me.” 

You finally saw the silhouette of Javi leaning above you. You couldn’t make out all of the details of his face, but you could tell it was him. You were on your back, and Javi was next to you, propped up on one arm, his body looming over yours. 

Opening your mouth, you went to ask him what was wrong, but suddenly, Javi’s warm hand was over your mouth, stopping you from speaking. 

“Shhh. Just listen to me.”

Javi waited for you to nod before he removed his hand. You unconsciously licked your lips, your mouth suddenly very dry.

“I got a message from our contact inside the cartel. They said there are some sicarios staying in the rooms near ours.” 

Your eyes widened. That really, really wasn’t good. 

“According to our contact, there’s been some chatter between the men. They were, um...” Javi paused, and your brows furrowed. He sounded almost nervous, which certainly wasn’t a good sign. “They were making comments about how strange it was they hadn’t... heard anything from our room.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t get it. What were they expecting to hear, Javi?” It was dark, so it was kind of hard to see, but your eyes had adjusted enough that you could almost see a blush spread across his cheeks.

“They were expecting to hear us having sex, compañera.” 

Your mouth dropped open. Shit. You certainly weren’t expecting this. You’d never expected that you’d have to pretend to be a relationship at night as well as during the day, and you had no idea what to do. 

“I told them that we’re done. We’re leaving tomorrow. I can’t ask you to–” 

It was your turn place your hand over Javi’s mouth. “Javier. Listen to me. This assignment is too important. We can’t just leave. Is there any way we can, I don’t know, fake it?” Already Javi is shaking his head, dislodging your hand.

“No, no way. These guys are too good, they’d know if we were faking it. Our only options are to leave, or–” 

He cuts off, but you know what he was going to say. Your only options were to leave, blowing the operation completely, or to have sex, just to maintain your cover. 

Well, there was really only one thing you could do.

You use the hand that had covered Javi’s mouth less than a minute ago to tangle in his hair, pulling Javi’s lips to yours. 

He doesn’t react right away, and you feel a bit of pride at being able to catch him off guard. But when he does react, he takes control immediately.

He presses his lips harshly against yours, his fingers wrapping around your wrists, yanking your arms up and pinning them above your head. Holding your arms with one hand, his other hand cradles your face, tilting your head so that he can deepen the kiss.

You let out a quiet whimper, trying to keep up with Javi’s near-frantic pace. He manages to tear away for a brief moment, whispering “Are you sure?” against your lips. You’re barely able to nod before he kisses you again.

His hand trails down the front of your shirt, creeping under the fabric and brushing over your bare skin. You arch your back, encouraging his wandering touches.

He keeps distracting you with kisses, but when his warm palm cups your breast, you pull away from his lips, a soft gasp escaping your lips. You bite your lip, trying to stifle the noise, but Javi pinches your nipple, leaning down to mutter in your ear.

“Don’t. I want to hear you.”

Another gasp escapes you, slightly louder than before as Javi toys with you.

He continues to murmur in your ear, his voice dripping with arousal, his tone dark as he explains what he wants to do to you.

“God you have no idea what you do to me, do you? Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long, compañera. I’m not letting you leave this bed till your legs are shaking and the only word you can say is my fucking name.”

You’re already gasping for breath and he’s barely touched you. “Fuck, fuck, Javi, please–”

You can’t even finish your plea before his lips are on your neck, sucking at your pulse point. You’re writhing in his grasp, but his hand around your wrists is unmoving, and his lips are relentless.

“‘M gonna mark you up, make sure everyone knows you’re mine, baby.”

Your hips are twitching, searching for something, any kind of friction to bring you relief. You cry out when Javi drops his own hips, pining you down to the bed, but also providing pressure where you need it most.

“Javi, Javi please, I can’t–!” You gasp, hooking one leg over the back of Javi’s thigh, keeping him pressed against you. “I need more, Javi I need–”

His hand leaves your breast and instead works it’s way down the front of your leggings, fingers immediately giving you the friction you so desperately desire. As you moan his name, loudly, you find yourself grateful that your bosses didn’t see fit to give the two of you different first names for your undercover work.

“More, pleasepleaseplease–”

You’re almost sobbing, but Javi’s fingers are relentless, bringing you closer to your climax. He presses his lips against yours right as you peak, swallowing your cries as you reach your release.

Slumping down on the bed, your entire body tingling, you blink up at Javi, his dark eyes roving hungrily over your face as he watches you come down from the high.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, compañera.”

You feel your cheeks heat at the praise, and his heavy gaze. You watch as he brings his fingers to his lips, sucking your release from his skin. It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen, and you know right then and there that you’re completely and utterly fucked.

“Javi, that was–” you trail off, words escaping you when you try to describe the feelings you just experienced. You’re surprised, however, when he chuckles.

“Baby,” he chuckles, ducking his head and kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

#fics #writing #masterlist #smut #javier peña #javi x reader #no use of y/n #request #ask #sharing a bed trope #really #it's just an excuse for smut #I don't make the rules

[zaph1337]

Monster Hunter Rating 21: Khezu, the Blank Stare

When I reviewed Basarios, I made a joke about how the devs likely gave it human teeth over sharp teeth because the latter might not give children nightmares, but I don’t actually think that the devs ever intended Basarios to be more terrifying than any other monster in the game. This monster, however, is literally the stuff of nightmares, and I’m not misusing “literally” here. This may be the longest review I’ve written yet, so buckle up. Time to get spooky with Khezu!

(How it appears in Monster Hunter 1)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter Rise)

Appearance: I think there’s been a mistake here; last I checked, Capcom wasn’t making Silent Hill games. Seriously, this thing would fit right into that series, and not just ‘cause its phallic neck lends itself well to metaphors. The pale, veiny skin, the leech-like mouth, the complete lack of eyes...Khezu’s unlike any other monster in the series because it’s the only monster that’s meant to be horrifying to look at. It’s got flabby, tattered wings and gecko-like feet, but its main characteristic (other than the head) is its tail, the tip of which can open up into a suction cup that allows Khezu to stick to ceilings.

Obviously, Khezu’s an abomination that came from a really dark place in someone’s mind, but that’s just it: Khezu is a monster that appeared in an MH developer’s nightmare either before or during the production of the first Monster Hunter game, and said developer (I don’t actually remember who) decided to put it in the game. I learned of this from the Twitch streams of a streamer called DuncanCan’tDie, who’s a huge MH fan that’s on great terms with Capcom. Unfortunately, I can’t find any other sources for this claim, but I don’t think he’s lying for a few reasons; firstly, like I said, he’s on great terms with Capcom. He’s friends with some people who work there, and he even has a tattoo designed by someone on the MH team he called “Kaname-san” (who didn’t actually give him the tattoo, but drew the design that a tattoo artist used) and the only person who could go by that name is Kaname Fujioka, the man who literally directed several MH games, including the first one, and who was the art director for Monster Hunter World. So yeah. Duncan and Capcom get along great, and if he was spreading false rumors, they’d probably know about it.

The second reason I believe Duncan about Khezu’s origin is that someone once came into one of his streams (and I was there at the time) and started spouting “lore” about two monsters that looked like they could be related, but actually weren’t. Duncan flat out told this person that what they were claiming wasn’t mentioned anywhere and asked for sources...which the loregiver did not provide. In fact, after Duncan started getting on their case, I don’t think they said a word for the rest of the stream. Duncan believes that this person was just making stuff up to sound like they knew a lot about MH and weren’t aware that he was an MH expert, and I doubt that someone who would call someone out on that would do the same thing, especially if he had a reputation to uphold.

I apologize if I spent a lot of time talking about that, but I didn’t want people getting on my case because they couldn’t find anything to support my claims. But in conclusion, I believe that Khezu truly was born of a nightmare, and that’s awesome. It makes the Silent Hill comparison even more fitting since the enemies in those games are basically projections of the protagonists’ psyches. Disturbing enemies are much more effective if they scare(d) the people who created them, and Khezu is certainly disturbing. Because of that, as well as its ominous origin, I’m giving it a 9/10.

Behavior: Khezu mostly inhabit caves, jungles, and swamps due to the need for their skin to be moisturized, though they usually only leave caves to hunt, which they don’t have to do very often due to the plentiful fat beneath their skin, which also keeps them warm. Their favorite hunting strategy is to ambush their prey from a location usually concealed by darkness, which is made easier by their extendable necks. However, their reliance on darkness, as well as their preference to dwell in caves, has made them completely blind and reliant on their other senses; despite not having visible nostrils or ears, Khezu have great hearing and a very good sense of smell. Back to hunting, while they need to subdue larger prey, smaller ones, like Kelbi, are slowly swallowed whole...which is apparently something you can actually witness in the games, according to TV Tropes (I normally stick to the wiki and what I already know for resources, but I went to the “Monster Hunter / Nightmare Fuel” page while searching for another source for Khezu’s origin as a nightmare). As if this thing needed to be more disturbing, it doesn’t always kill its prey before it tries to swallow it, so the Kelbi you can see it eat is constantly struggling as the Khezu swallows it bottom-first. That’s...that’s messed up. But it gets worse.

Practically every monster in this series isn’t any more intelligent than what we consider a normal animal to be. Aside from Lynians, which are people, the smartest monster I’ve talked about is the Velociprey, which might not be as smart as, say, an irl crow, which is very intelligent by the standards of nonhuman animals. What I’m getting at here is that most of the monsters in this series don’t really take any sadistic pleasure in killing and eating prey; they just do it to survive. But Khezu is different. In several MH games, including Rise, the first time you go on a quest to kill a specific monster, the gameplay is preceded by a cutscene that shows off how powerful or intimidating that monster is (and in Rise’s case, you also get a poem). Here’s Khezu’s intro, and I want you to pay attention to what Khezu does from 0:24-0:30:

That’s right: this thing “looked” right at the monster it was going to eat, and smiled. That isn’t just me anthropomorphizing it, either; I’ve seen what Khezu looks like outside of that cutscene, and even with its mouth closed it has a neutral expression, so it smiling actually means something, and considering the context, it’s obvious what the devs wanted us to take from it: Khezu likes killing. It enjoyed the prospect of swallowing that monster whole while it was still alive and struggling, which means that this is the first monster I’ve talked about that we can definitively say is evil rather than just an animal. Rather fitting for a living nightmare, I would say. And if you thought all that was disturbing, I have some...unfortunate news. I hope you aren’t eating anything right now, ‘cause this next part is just gross.

Y’know how some wasps lay their eggs inside other bugs so the eggs have incubation they can eat when they hatch? Well, uh...Khezu do that, too. And they’re hermaphrodites that, from what I can gather, don’t need to mate, so any adult Khezu is capable of injecting another monster with its “whelps” (not saying that Khezu are always “pregnant,” just saying that any of them can be). And you know the really crazy part? After everything I said about Khezu, there are still people in the MH world that tame them and keep them as pets. Why would you want to have a slimy, flabby, sadistic, parasitoid, 14-to-40-foot abomination as a pet!? God, people are so freaking weird.

EDIT (05/07/2021): My older brother reminded me that I forgot about one of the odder aspects of Khezu; when you enter a fight with a Main Monster, its battle theme plays (don’t know if every monster has a unique theme, but several do, to my knowledge), but Khezu has no theme to speak of. I don’t know if this is true in every game, or even if it was intentional at first, but it’s still both funny and eerie at the same time. There’s no background music until you get in a fight, so if you somehow tick off a Khezu without seeing it, then it can sneak up on you. “But Zaph, the moment a monster enters ‘fight mode,’ it roars! So the Khezu will give away its position!” See, you’d be right about that if it wasn’t for the fact that, according to TV Tropes at least, Khezu’s roar sounds just like wind--howling wind, yes, but wind all the same. I don’t know if there’s any howling wind SFX in the areas where Khezu live, so for all I know you’ll still be able to identify it in a hurry, but just imagine what that’s like in-universe! Imagine that you’re walking around in the Frost Islands or something and hear a chilling wind from out of nowhere. Unless you’re an experienced hunter, you’d likely have no idea if that was a Khezu or not, so you wouldn’t know if it’s too late to run or not, or even if you should run at all. Going back out of universe, the details I just described are very nice touches to a monster that was already horrifying in behavior, so I’m bumping the score here up from the 7 I initially gave it to 8/10.

Abilities: All of the “Flying Wyverns” I’ve talked about so far have had a lot of trouble with the whole “flying” part, and Khezu are no exception; they’re better at it than Diablos and Gravios, but they still need to flap really frantically to stay in the air. They’re great at jumping, though, and their gecko-like feet allow them to scale walls and stick to ceilings, something that their tails also allow them to do. Khezu are Thunder-element monsters capable of discharging electricity in a manner of ways, including shooting balls of it from their mouths and emitting it all around their bodies. Since Khezu like to spend time around water, their attacks are even more dangerous, as everything near them will likely be wet and therefore more conductive. This also applies to Khezu themselves, which may be why they stick their tails onto the ground before discharging electricity; they ground themselves so that they don’t shock themselves. Finally, Khezu saliva is very dangerous; we don’t know if it’s electric or acidic, but anything that gives off smoke when it touches something probably isn’t good for your health, which is why owning a pet Khezu is so dangerous; their drool can literally kill you. 7/10.

Equipment: Most Khezu weapons are as interesting as you’d expect them to be, considering the monster they’re made from. Most of them have a horror aesthetic, like this Great Sword called the Khezu Shock Sword:

I just noticed that the skin is actually stretched over the blade, rather than being what the blade’s attached to. Gross, but I never expected Khezu weapons to look pretty. There are also weapons which emphasize the monster’s electric aspect, like this Gunlance called the Full Voltage:

It still has Silent Hill vibes due to its “rusty hospital” aesthetic, and looking at it long enough reveals little details it inherited from Khezu. Speaking of hospitals, there are a couple of weapons based off of syringes, such as the Khezu Syringe, which is a Light Bowgun, and a Lance from MHFG that’s literally a giant hypodermic needle, but I didn’t want to show those off in case they triggered anyone with needle phobia. The last weapon I’m gonna show will be very familiar to those of us who’ve played the Rise demo a lot: the Insect Glaive known as the Bolt Chamber!

I like the green tube running from the sac between the blade and the shaft of the glaive; according to the Bolt Chamber’s in-game description, it uses that “pulsating device” to steal energy from its targets. If you mentioned that to me before I grabbed its image for this review, I probably would have asked how it did that. If you then pointed out the mouth at the glaive’s end, I would have thanked you for cursing me with the knowledge of its existence. Seriously, I’ve used this thing probably more than 20 times, and until I saw this render, I never noticed that. As for the armor, here’s the Blademaster Khezu Armor from MHGU:

The male armor here is almost identical to the one from Rise--which sadly doesn’t have any pictures on the wiki yet--and yes, it does look like the main character from Assassin’s Creed. The female armor, on the other hand, looks almost like a nurse’s outfit, especially with that metal thing on the woman’s head with the cross. The more I look at this equipment, the more I feel like they wanted people to think of Silent Hill, and if so, that’s pretty cool. I’ve got another armor set to show you; the Gunner version of the Khezu R Armor from MHGU:

Jesus, is this an armor set or a medical emergency? I can’t imagine bandages are very effective at protecting your body from physical damage, but thankfully it looks like most of them are just covering actual armor...meaning that the people who designed this stuff in-universe wanted the people wearing it to look like they were in an accident. Not sure I get why, but I’m not here to--actually, I am here to judge, so never mind; it’s gross. Also the female set has Khezu mouths as arm coverings, which is someone’s fetish, I’m sure. The equipment as a whole is macabrely interesting (TIL that macabrely is a real word) and calls to mind a fascinating horror game franchise, so 8/10.

Final Thoughts and Tally: I figured that Khezu was gonna be interesting, but I didn’t know how far the devs would take the horror theming. Everything about this monster is creepy; it looks disturbing, it acts even worse, and its equipment makes me feel like I need a tetanus shot just from looking at it. But that’s not at all a bad thing...unless you’re really squeamish, in which case you were likely cringing this whole review. I’d apologize, but you made the choice to stick through ‘till the end. 8/10.

#monster hunter #monster hunter rating #monster hunter rise #zaph1337

[jaxsteamblog]

Her Royal Majesty Our Queen

Click here to read the entire fic on AO3

During the two day trip to the Foggy Swamp, Katara had to disconnect from her role as Thuy’s Master and step back into her work as Queen. This visit had nothing to do with the Avatar as she needed to meet with the Matriarch of the Swamp Tribe, and Thuy was simply going home. Toph, as her current instructor, was always going to come along but was herself interested in seeing the swamp. 

For someone who invented metalbending, Toph was certainly very interested in mud. 

The layover was, amusingly, in Haru’s hometown. With their arrival publicly announced, Haru’s parents sent a short letter to her hotel room, but there wasn’t any attempt to meet. Katara was only there for the night, and Haru was happily married in Republic City. 

Still, it was nice to be thought of.

On the flight the next day, Thuy became more animated and even Mister Whiskers was showing more signs of life. The amphibious creature clearly missed her damp home. 

“Did you hear that, Sugar Queen?” Toph asked loudly, making Katara turn from her laptop. “Thuy says they eat bugs.”

Katara blinked and shut her laptop slowly.

“And?” She asked.

“Doesn’t that weird you out?” Toph questioned.

“No?” Katara put a hand on top of her computer. “Some of us didn’t live in a manor for the entirety of the war.” 

“Are you saying I’m soft?” Toph demanded, not sounding angry but leaning over the arm of her seat menacingly.

“Oh Toph, you’re as dense as a rock.” Katara replied sweetly. 

Toph cackled, slapping the seat arm and sitting back. 

“See Wet Wipe, you have to give as good as you get. Otherwise people will walk all over you.” She said to Thuy.

“I just don’t think it’s nice.” Thuy huffed, picking up her squirming catgator. Mister Whiskers had taken to chewing on the empty seats in front of them. 

Katara did not like how many sharp teeth were in that wide mouth. 

“Avatars don’t get anywhere by being nice.” Toph countered.

“Don’t I know it.” Thuy muttered. 

Due to the unpredictable nature of the swamp, the plane landed at a small, private airfield next to the looming entity of the banyan grove. 

As they disembarked, figures came out from the treeline and Thuy ran to meet them, Mister Whiskers loping cartoonishly after her. 

One figure Katara recognized as the matriarch. Dong-Lee broke away from the group and walked leisurely toward Katara as she and Toph made their way to the trees.

“Welcome, our queen.” Dong-Lee said. A chorus of shouts raised from the group behind her and Katara felt her face start to warm.

“Please, Matriarch, Katara is perfectly fine.” She said, waving the comment away. 

“You are bringing the other tribes back to our family, we are proud to call you our queen.” Dong-Lee replied.

Katara’s mouth twitched at the comment, but she ignored it. 

“I appreciate the welcome, Matriarch.” She said. 

“Is the Fire Lord still onboard?” Dong-Lee asked.

“Zuko?” Katara frowned in confusion. “He’s in Caldera.”

“He didn’t come?”

Dong-Lee sounded surprised and Katara did blush then.

“We’re not married yet, I wasn’t aware you were expecting him.” She explained. 

“I apologize, Thuy had told me you were handfasted already.” Dong-Lee said.

“They are!” Thuy shouted indignantly. “They announced their coupling ages ago and then she accepted his pledge on my birthday!” 

“That doesn’t mean we’re married!” Katara snapped anxiously.

“Sure it does.” Thuy said, sounding calm and unconcerned as she walked back over. “A wedding doesn’t make you married, a pledge does.”

“That’s not how it works in other places.” Katara said and sighed.

“That is how it works here, though.” Thuy said. “And we are your people too.” 

Katara sighed again and rubbed her face.

“I’m sorry, Matriarch, Zuko isn’t coming.” She said.

“Like dragon spit he isn’t.” Thuy said. She pulled out her cellphone and Katara lunged. Thuy avoided her easily, pushing herself away with her bending. 

“Zuko, Auntie said you’re not coming to the swamp even though I promised everyone.” Thuy started, continuing to move away as Katara made a strangled sound in exasperation. 

“So,” Toph interjected as she strolled over. “I was told there were bugs?”

By dinner, Zuko was already in Republic City making further travel plans. At Thuy’s invitation, Sokka and Suki decided to tag along and the three of them would be in the swamp by the next evening. 

Having her script so completely disrupted, Katara sulked and grumbled at her seat. 

Toph had gone hunting with some of the tribe members, returning completely drenched in swamp mud but clutching the still writhing bodies of leopard eels. Apparently having an Earthbender made it much easier to catch the fish by hand, and an unsettling sack proved it. 

The catch was gutted and cleaned at the docks, with Mister Whiskers getting her fill of offal. None of that bothered Katara, save for the blood that spilled onto their woven mats. 

There hadn’t been much in the way of technological advancement in the swamp. Whatever spiritual energy shielded Thuy’s home, it was complete and fickle. The tribe used peat and water to make steam engine generators, but they didn’t power much outside of the few telephones, radios, computers, and satellite for reception. And that was certainly spotty, often requiring a shaman or Thuy herself to go into the swamp and yell about it. 

Torches, bug nets, and rickety walkways were sprinkled over massive banyan roots and linked the various thatched huts or raised pavilions. Family groups lived in nodes and each node could communicate with the others via the root system and a shaman. So the technology they did have only came, Katara found, after Thuy was identified as the Avatar and her family knew she would need it. 

Other things, like books, weapons, and clothing, trickled in at random times when an outsider was allowed access to the interior. 

The swamp had protected Thuy and provided her with everything she needed. 

It reminded Katara very much of the South Pole.

Which oddly did not help her mood.

“Is her royal majesty being snooty?” Toph asked, sitting down hard next to Katara.

“No. I’m just mad I didn’t know they expected Zuko to be here.” She replied.

“I’m surprised too, to be honest.” Toph said, putting her hands down behind her and reclining. “What do they want with the Fire Lord?” 

“That’s a good question.” Katara replied. 

The answer came after dinner had been cleared away. 

A shaman, adorned with bright feathers and a carved wooden mask, stepped out onto the wide dock. Everyone quieted and turned; Katara looked expectantly at Thuy, but she was already focused on the shaman.

“We welcome the return of our kin, Thuy.” The shaman said and clapping filled the heavy air. Katara clapped slowly, still unsure of what was happening. 

“Before we understood our world, we told stories to explain what we saw. The Avatar represented all of our questions; where did we come from? Why do we have Benders? Why are there four elements? And how are we to live with the spirits?

“The ancient stories tell us that the sun and the moon fought over the ocean. That one day, when the moon triumphed, the sun fell into the ocean and from it’s boiling, the lands were made. The bubbles made the air we breathe and pushed the sun back into the sky. So the elements were made, but as they came from strife, only one would ever inhabit a human at a time.

“We know of space now, of gravity, but we also still live among the spirits. We see how they alter the world around us, how they bestow gifts, and how they take things away at a whim.

“After the great and terrible war, the rest of the world is turning away from the spirits. It is why the Avatar has been born here, in this sacred grove, to remind us of what we are all still connected to.” The shaman paused but no one spoke or made a noise. 

“The rest of the world is being reminded. Our spirits, not our adopted family of the Great Banyan Tree, but our spiritual parents Tui and La, have reconnected to our human world. The honorable princess Yue has ascended to the sky as the handmaiden of the moon. And here sits our awe-some protector, the Matriarch of All Waters, our queen!” The shaman continued and a roar went up around Katara. 

Toph, unable to find a snarky comment, only sat up straight. A shiver ran through Katara and she gripped uselessly at the mat under her. 

“The sun has fallen again into the ocean. We must prepare for what is to come.” The shaman said, raising his hands to quiet the people. 

“Tomorrow, the queen and her husband will go out into the swamp. When they return, we will abide by whatever message they bring.” The shaman said and then turned his carved mask toward Katara.

“Long live La!” He called and the shout was quickly picked up by the others.

“Looks like someone has a new, terrible destiny.” Toph whispered.

“Alright Huu, get down and let the fiddlers start!” Someone yelled and laughter replaced the solemn calling. 

The energy immediately shifted and Katara let out a breath, slumping onto the low table. 

“I am so sick of destiny.” She muttered.

That night, Katara sat awkwardly tucked in a knot of a banyan tree. She had to climb higher than she liked to get a decent signal on her phone.

“Divination at dinner?” Zuko asked. 

“It’s starting to feel like we never had a choice not to be together.” Katara grumbled.

“And that’s a bad thing?” He questioned haltingly.

“It makes it seem like it doesn’t matter what kind of person I am if you were fated to love me anyway.” 

“I don’t know. Even if people say we were meant to be together, we still had to be the people we are to make that happen. And I do love you because of who you are.”

“But I don’t want to be this. Whatever this person is that everyone is making me out to be.”

“And what’s that?”

“Liu called me Oma, everyone here thinks I’m La, and Rohan is trying to make me think I’m the embodiment of yin.”

“What do you want to be?”

“Me! I just want to be me. And your wife.” Katara added, lowering her voice and wrapping her free arm over her chest. “I just want to be me with you.” 

“The quiet, unassuming wife of the Fire Lord?” Zuko asked and she snorted. 

“I could never just be a wife.” She said dryly.

“Which is why I wanted to ask you…” Zuko started and Katara sat up.

“What now?” She asked.

“I want you to become the Fire Lady.” He said.

That stilled her and Katara stared off into the darkness. 

“You still there?” Zuko asked cautiously.

“Yeah, no, I’m still here.” Katara said. “Just, thinking.”

“I know it’s a big ask.”

“That’s two crowns, Zuko.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my queen too. You will be queen to my people. Our people.” 

Katara went quiet again, and Zuko waited. 

“You want children.” She said finally.

“Yes.” He was quick and honest. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know.” She said, just as honestly.

“I never wanted them before. But with you?” Zuko’s voice drifted and Katara felt her pulse quicken.

“If they’re really saying I’m the sun falling into the ocean-”

“Zuko.”

“-then maybe what they mean is how many little islands I can-”

“Zuko!”

“The allegory is right there Katara.” 

Katara laughed and her anxiety left her. 

“I’ll think about it.” She said finally.

“That’s all that I ask.” He replied.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said.

“I am so excited for our field trip, you have no idea.” Zuko joked and Katara laughed again.

It was certainly enough to think about for one night.

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#zutara #fanfiction #jax writes #zutara month #modern au #the fic that prompts built

[self-loving-vampire]

Ultima VII: The Black Gate (1992)

Ultima 7 was pretty much my introduction to RPGs, and I could not have asked for a better pair of games to ignite a lifelong passion into that genre. There is a real reason why this is still considered one of the best RPGs ever made.

While Ultima 7 is often discussed as a singular entity, it is actually two separate full-length games with one expansion each. For this post I will focus on the first one, Ultima VII: The Black Gate, as well as its expansion: Forge of Virtue.

I recommend playing the game using Exult, which adds some quality of life features (such as a feeding hotkey and a “use all keys” hotkey) as well as the option to use higher quality audio packs, implement bug fixes, and change the font into something easier on the eyes.

Summary

The protagonist of the Ultima series is “the Avatar”, a blank slate isekai protagonist from our world who has previously travelled to the world of Britannia several times and saved it from many threats, also becoming the shining paragon of the virtues meant to guide its people.

In this game, you once again cross the portal to Britannia to save it from a new and mysterious extradimensional threat. As soon as you arrive, you immediately discover two things:

1- A violent ritualistic murder has just taken place.

2- There is suspicious new organization called “The Fellowship” gaining adherents throughout the land.

It is up to you to investigate these developments.

Freedom

In terms of freedom, the Black Gate has plenty overall but there are areas where it is not quite there.

Once you can manage to get the password to get out of the locked-down town of Trinsic you are free to go nearly anywhere in the game right away and have multiple means of transportation to accomplish this, such as moongates or ships.

And there are some very real rewards to exploring like this as well, such as various treasure caches and other interesting findings. 

The world is actually very small by modern standards, especially when settlements occupy so much of it, but both the towns and the wilderness areas are dense with content.

Notably, the game also allows you to perform various activities. From stealing to making a honest living by baking bread (which is something you can do thanks to how interactive the environment is) or gathering eggs at a farm.

Where it falls short is in terms of having multiple possible solutions for quests. Generally there is only one correct option for how to complete them.

That said, there is a bad ending you might be able to find in addition to the canonical good ending.

Character Creation/Customization

This is one of the big minuses of the game. While you can select your name and gender (and with Exult also have a wider selection of portraits) that is about it for character creation.

All characters will start with the same stats and there are no character classes. You can develop your stats through training and specialize through your choice of equipment, but by the end of the Forge of Virtue expansion you will have maxed stats and the best weapon in the game (a sword) regardless, and you will definitely need to cast a few spells to progress the main quest as well.

This can make every playthrough feel much like the last, as there isn’t that much of a way to vary how your character develops or what abilities they’ll end up having. You will always be a master of absolutely everything in the end unless you go out of your way to avoid doing the Forge of Virtue expansion.

Story/Setting

While the game is a bit too obvious and heavy-handed about its villains, there are still many interesting storylines in the game that deal with mature subjects that remain relevant today, such as cults, drug abuse, workplace exploitation, and xenophobia.

However, the setting as a whole is greater than any individual storyline taking place within. With the exception of most guards and bandits, every single NPC in the game is an individual with a name, schedule, living space, and defined personality. This was not the norm in 1992 and even today there’s not many games that really implement this well. The world is also very detailed in terms of things like the services available to you, the general interactivity of the game world, and the sheer amount of things that populate every corner of it.

The initial murder is not only a strong hook for investigation but also a shocking scene in its own right. The Guardian also proves to have a significant presence as a villain, using a mental link to remotely taunt you based on the context of what is happening. For example, if your companions die he may offer you some exaggerated, mocking pity.

Immersion

There is something very interesting and comfortable about just watching the various inhabitants of a town just go about their daily lives. They work during the day, eat at certain times (either at home or at one of the many taverns in the land), and sleep at night. They don’t just strangely repeat one single action during the day either, they may do things like open windows when the weather is nice or turn candles and streetlamps on at night.

In terms of immersion, Ultima 7 is my primary example of a game that does an excellent job of it even if there’s some weirdness going on with the setting. Even after having played so many more games throughout my life, only a few are on the same level as either part of Ultima 7 when it comes to immersion.

Gameplay

There are three broad aspects to the gameplay here that I want to discuss.

The first is combat. It is actually simple enough that you can call it almost entirely automatic. You simply enable combat mode by pressing C and your party will automatically go and fight nearby hostile enemies based on whatever combat orders you have selected for them (by default, attacking the closest enemy).

This is certainly better than having an outright bad or annoying combat system as the whole process is simple and painless, but I still wish there was more depth to it. Your stats, and especially your equipment, still play a role but other than things like pausing to use items or cast spells the whole process is very uninvolved.

I kind of wish there was more depth to it, but at least the other two areas of the gameplay are reasonably good.

The next aspect of gameplay is dialogue, which uses dialogue trees for the first time in the series. Previously, it required typing in keywords, which are retained but as dialogue options you can just click on rather than remember and type.

While the keywords are not really written as natural language most of the time (requiring some imagination to determine the specifics of your dialogue), the system is very easy to use regardless. It definitely lacks depth compared to something like Fallout: New Vegas, but so do most games.

The third and most notable thing is the way you interact with the world in general. It is both extremely simple and very immersive at the same time.

Ultima 7 is a game that can be played entirely with the mouse (though keyboard hotkeys make everything much more comfortable). You can right click a space to walk there, you can left click something to identify what it is, and you can use double left click to interact.

For example, double left click over an NPC to talk to them (or attack them, if combat mode is enabled), double left click a door to open it, double left click a loaf of bread to feed it to someone, and so on.

But there is more. By holding your click over an item and dragging it, you can move it. This has various applications beyond just being how you pick things up and add them to your inventory. For example, sometimes objects may be hidden beneath other objects, or objects may need to be placed in a specific location.

There are some downsides to this system. Particularly, the issue that keeping your inventory organized can be time-consuming when it has to be done by manually dragging objects around, and this can also make looting relatively slow.

Despite this, I think this kind of interaction system has a lot of potential. It just has some clunky aspects to be ironed out.

Aesthetics

Ultima 7 was very good-looking for its time, and although modern players will not be very impressed by how it looks or sounds, it still remains easily legible in a way that some other old games are not. That, and the ability to identify anything with just a left click, makes this a very easy game to make out at the very least.

Some of the music of this game is very distinctive too, and will likely stay with you after a full playthrough.

In terms of style, the Black Gate does have a bit of an identity while still having a very familiar medieval fantasy setting with things like trolls, animated skeletons, dragons, and liches. While there are aspects that help the setting distinguish itself a bit, they are relatively subtle.

If I had to describe the feeling of playing this, I’d call it “open and laid back”. While the main quest deals with a looming threat to the entire world, the game does not follow this overly closely at first, letting you deal with it at your own pace and without having your exploration options limited by the story.

In fact, when I was young I often just ignored that and went to live in a creepy ruin in the swamp.

(Don’t expect many pictures in these reviews, but have one of my “childhood home.”)

I’d say that Ultima 7′s second part (Serpent Isle) has a much stronger and also darker and more isolating atmosphere overall and that has a lot of appeal to me in particular, but the Black Gate is definitely more open and less linear, and I also appreciate that.

Accessibility

It pleases me to say that Ultima 7 remains extremely easy to pick up and play. Even setting up Exult is not complicated in the least.

The gameplay is intuitive and simple, the UI is minimal, stats are basic (and not even that important), and the combat is automatic. I expect that this is not only the easiest point of entry into the Ultima series as a whole but also likely even easier to get into than many modern RPGs!

It does have some aspects that may be a bit clunky, like all the inventory-related dragging, but it’s definitely not obscure or complicated even to someone who has not read the manual (though I’d still recommend doing that). I literally played this game as a tiny child who could barely read or understand English and still got really into it.

The one thing I’d like to point out is that the game uses a type of copy protection where at a couple of story points (including an extremely early one to leave the first town) you will be asked some questions that require using the manual and external map to answer. You can just google the answers for these.

Conclusion

As I write more of these reviews there will be many games that are interesting, but deeply flawed. Games that are worth trying out but maybe not finishing, as well as games that had interesting ideas but that I can’t entirely recommend due to serious problems that will easily put people off.

But I do not think the Black Gate is such a game. I can easily recommend it with no qualifiers despite the fact that it is almost 30 years old. This is really a game that all RPG fans should at the very least try for a few hours, and not only for its historical significance. It is genuinely a good game worthy of its praise.

I will review its sequel, Ultima VII Part 2: Serpent Isle, next.

#vampire reviews rpgs #ultima 7 #the black gate

[darkest-fluid]

Fic ask game: 1,2, 6, 8, 18, 23

You always pick such great questions!

1: Is writing cathartic or stressful for you?

I would say it's about equal parts of both. Often the process of writing can be very stressful for me, but that isn't because I don't enjoy it. It's more to do with my mental health difficulties. Anxiety, adhd, executive dysfunction, maladaptive perfectionism and imposter syndrome amount to a fairly potent mix of obstacles when it comes to creative projects. That said, when I actually do get things written, getting to look back over it and see that I've made something is a very cool feeling, especially if I manage to write anything that accurately captures the mood or message that I wanted to convey. So it's difficult, but the end result is always worth it.

2: Do you focus on attention to detail when you read fics? Are you more or less attention to detail focused when you write fics?

I'm a very detail oriented person. So much so, in fact, that I corrected a spelling error in this question after I pasted it, because looking at it was bugging me. 😅 I do pay a lot of attention to detail when I read, and I always appreciate when an author puts thought into things like subtext and realism and character motivation, but I'm not hunting for mistakes or trying to be judgmental or anything. I think I'm probably more detail-focused as a writer than as a reader, given my writing habits. Perhaps a little too detail focused, at times.

6: What are some topics you will never write about?

Oh, that's a tough one. I honestly feel like there isn't much that I would avoid, if the circumstances were right. There are topics that I would not write in certain ways, but if I had free reign to handle it my own way, then I could be open to almost anything. Incest would be extremely hard, I think, because I used to be in a relationship with someone who was an incest survivor and so that topic is very touchy for me. But I could still write about it if it was important to the story and I was able to treat it delicately. I think really the boundaries for me are more in the portrayal than in the subject itself. I would never fetishize anything that I find traumatic or upsetting, which is one of the reasons I tend to avoid unbalanced or abusive power dynamics in erotic fiction.

8: How do you develop your OCs?

It isn't always exactly the same every time, but I generally start with a broad concept and then flesh out the details. Often that concept will have some kind of symbolism tied to it. For Lyr, I started with my actual BG3 OC, who was a rogue (because I love to play rogues.) And then I thought about what kind of story I wanted to tell, and the symbolism of water and the ocean really appealed to me. Emotions, depth, freedom, hidden things, forces of nature, etc. Blood also contains water, and water has symbolic ties to telepathy. I think about those kinds of things in the early stages, and then I start to form an actual person out of it. Usually I try to give that person some qualities that go against stereotype. I also invariably give them at least a few qualities that I can identify with, as that makes it easier for me as an author to inhabit the character. Understanding their emotional temperament is important for me, since I tend to write from a more emotional/impressionist POV. So I spend a lot of time fine-tuning that. Figuring out their motivation is an important step, also. What does this character want, both in the short term and more broadly? What do they believe in? As for backstory, I will usually figure that out as I am building their personality. I don't do one and then the other. I'll start with a rough idea for character traits, then I'll write some basic backstory notes, then I'll use that to expand and refine the personality, then I'll write some more backstory, and so on. Each informs the other.

18: Do you feel like your work gets enough recognition? What kind of feedback do you like to receive?

What I hope for, with my writing, is that it will resonate with the people who read it. I think that's really what recognition means to me: knowing that someone read my work and was able to get something from it. It makes me feel like I'm connecting with people, even if very distantly. I feel very grateful and lucky that there are people out there who read and enjoy my work. Even if that number was very small, it would still make me happy. So in that sense, yes. I am happy with the recognition I receive. I love getting feedback about specific things within the story that a reader enjoyed or derived meaning from, and I love getting to see what kinds of details people pick up on.

If I'm being 100% truthful, I do feel a bit sad sometimes that the people who know me in person don't have any interest in reading my work. (I probably would not show them my fanfic, but I have plenty of original writing as well.) I always really enjoy getting to see the things my friends, family and partners create, so the lack of interest from them is hard for me sometimes. Though it's less about recognition, and more about the lack of connection. Writing is such a personal thing. Sharing it with people is like sharing a part of yourself, and I wish I could share more with them.

23: What's one piece of advice you would give to anyone who wants to start writing or posting their writing online?

Writing is like any other skill: the more you do it, the better you will get. It took me around 15 years before I hit a point where I started to really be happy with my writing ability. If you find that you're struggling to get in enough writing practice, collaborative writing (including text-based roleplaying) can be an awesome way to motivate yourself. And if you're looking for tips and feedback, writing workshops, writing groups and beta readers can be incredibly valuable tools.

Another bit of advice: don't apologize for your writing. If a reader likes your story, they will focus on the bits they enjoy. Drawing attention to the flaws will only serve to make them more obvious. Let the work stand on its own.

#asks #writing #df writes #personal

[stone-man-warrior]

September 17, 2020: 3:40 pm:

Day ten.

The enchiladas are not going to be eaten. There are no forest animals in the creek area that are interested in eating a plate of enchiladas. In the past, that plate would have been cleaned within a few hours.

There should have been interest from some skunks, some raccoons, and some possums. There should have been a mouse or bird that would have eaten some of the food.

I don’t see any reason to continue the experiment, as the food has decomposed beyond to what a possum will eat.

Other things to report today include that the odor of rotting flesh that has been wafting through the woods from the Monroe terror cell, has been reduced to just an occasional faint hint that something died, and rotted away over there. Seriously, the odor was so thick a week ago, that the taste of the odor accompanied the smell as I walked on my driveway past the Monroe terror cell. As I said before, I am convinced that there was dead bodies, either animal or human, or both, contained inside of small boxes, ice chests, or some other containers with lids on them, inside of a shed that is nearby the Offensive Monroe Surveillance Travel Trailer they have parked in the back yard there under a pole barn. When I saw Sandy Monroe go into that shed near the trailer, she opened the lids to some kind of box, I could only see the lid as it was hinged open, then, she appeared to be stirring, turning, or otherwise managing the contents of the containers. That is when the extreme death odor filled the air all around. The odor was thick and unbearable, from my driveway area, to the mailboxes, and into my yard all the way to the opposite side of my yard, farthest away from Monroe’s. I searched all over the place for the source of the dead odor, but there was so much of it, it’s source was not easy to find, until about 10-15 days into the experience of the odor, that is when it became obvious that Sandy Monroe was stirring up the odor from that shed.

No help has come.

There are no signs of helpful people anywhere to be found.

The conditions I encountered in Grants Pass and Medford yesterday are such that the terror army has become more aggressive than ever before. They still remain stealth in their ways, and are not easy to detect, but for me, knowing of their ways, I am inclined to say that the terror army has become complacent to their own ways, and are doing their terror in what I would say, is a sloppy, non-careful sort of way. For twenty years, they have been so careful not to expose themselves or what they do, that I could not easily see what I already knew was happening, mass murder in public places, invisibly, but now, yesterday was revealing, that they are far less concerned about being seen, and their terror ways, their character acting, and their repeated scenarios are becoming obvious, they are so obvious now, that I think even the US National Security personnel could see and identify the activity as terror activity. That, has never happened before, but I think it could happen now. The ability to see the terror actors, acting, playing their roles as citizens, while actually being terror army soldiers, is available now in Grants Pass, on the Interstate 5, in Medford. You can see the character acting happening in front of you like never before.

Also, my phone: A LG Brand, “Wine” model, flip phone connected to a US Cellular network, is totally highjacked, as I report here often. Something that is explainable about that, is the menu system and the way it behaved yesterday. The menu system changed it’s behavior for a few hours yesterday, as follows. At about 12:15 pm, I wanted to delete some of the photos from the camera memory of the phone, it’s full, and won’t save anymore pictures, so, I have to delete some, to take new ones. Usually, I can select photos individually and delete what is not important to me. The menu asks me if I am sure that I want to delete the selected photo before I push the “OK” button. But yesterday, there were no options available to select an individual photo. The only option was to “Erase all photos from internal and external memory?” as I selected just one picture for deletion. Had I not payed close attention to what the menu was saying, all of the photos on my phone would have been erased when I pushed the “OK” button. For national security people, if there are such people, you could find the terror orders for that terror command on Twitter, coded into a few news stories from about three or four days ago, where the subject of the Tweets was that of “Cleaning a phone” and reference to Hillary Clinton and her “Hard Drive Wipe“ was made in the tweeted stories. That was about me and my phone, where there are photos that the terror bastards want erased. They want me to “wipe” my phone, and changed the way the phone menu works. That cannot be done by just anyone, the changing of the menu on a cellular phone seems as though it would require some advanced access to the entire network to me, the US Cellular Network. Had I in inadvertently erases all of the photos because of that menu bug, then, there would be people saying that I am a terrorist, and erased the photos to cover something up.

I don’t cover anything,., I expose everything. If I see or know about terrorism, I say so. If I can get a photo, I will get one, they are very difficult to get. If I had some other people with me when I go places, it would be much easier to take a photo where people are being killed. But by myself, at those times, I must keep my hands free, ready to defend. If I try to use a camera phone, especially that one on the LG Wine, where you have to push too many buttons to use it, I would be dead a long time ago. When the murders happen, they happen fast. Three seconds, and five people are dead. Ten more seconds, and they are all carted away, and there is no signs that anything happened, only innocent looking terror soldiers dressed as church goers, all doing innocent looking activities, and driving around in modern, sensible cars and trucks, is all there is to see, fifteen seconds after many people are murdered. The terror army kills the way a machine operates, and the machine almost never skips a tooth on the gears.

That is all I have for now, even though I was there when at least three terror soldiers were killed in defense yesterday. Like I said the other day, the events were largely unremarkable, but the reason is that there is no one to make any remarks to, so, the events are uneventful, because there are no people who are interested in knowing about the events. Had those three not been killed or neutralized some other way, I would be dead today. Hand to hand combat, with swords, in a Medford medical provider office, and at a Grants Pass hamburger stand happened yesterday. Poison gas was used to support the attacks, and was released into the ambient air by other terror soldiers, who are still out there, targeting any and all people who are not part of their SAG/Canadian/British/Vatican terror army.

Please send help.

Please send medical services.

Please send US Military to Oregon, Josephine County.

I am getting too old and broken to continue to be the only person defending USA.

End terror report: 4:43 pm.

[justheretobreakthings]

Keith’s Scaly Secret

Written for @gentronlegendaryfriendships

Day Two: Wings AU | Adopting a Pet Together

Word Count: 2,933 Characters: Keith & Shiro Read on AO3 My house, my rules, my ko-fi

Story Summary:

Due to an upcoming dorm inspection at the Galaxy Garrison, Shiro learns that Keith has been hiding some unexpected contraband.

There was a lot about his time as a young cadet at the Galaxy Garrison that Shiro often found himself nostalgic for, but dorm life wasn’t one of them. There were times nowadays when he spent the afternoon studying with Keith and the library was too crowded, so it was usually easier to just hang out in his dorm than go all the way to Shiro’s apartment, but those times were also good reminders of Shiro’s distaste for the academy’s dorms. They were dim and cramped, the mattress on the bed was thin and the desk chairs were stiff and had terrible back support. And, although of course Shiro would never mention it out loud to him, over the last few weeks Keith’s dorm had started to take on a faint smell that Shiro couldn’t quite identify, but that didn’t seem to be from dirty laundry or old food the way most other smelly dorms were.

All in all, not Shiro’s preferred place to spend a Saturday afternoon, but with the amount of stress that upcoming linear algebra test was giving Keith, it was something he was more than willing to endure for the sake of helping his protégé get some studying done. It still was a bit of a relief, though, when they finally finished covering all the practice problems they could get and deemed the study session complete, and Keith announced that he was ready for dinner.

“Sounds good to me,” Shiro said, moving to stand from where he had been seated cross-legged on Keith’s bed and then stretching out his back. “You wanna go to the cafeteria, or would you be up for going out to eat tonight?”

“Either,” Keith said with a shrug. He shook out his hand, no doubt cramped from all the writing he’d been doing in the past couple of hours, and stood too as he closed his books. “I could go out.”

“Great,” Shiro said. He glanced at his watch before continuing, “We should probably be heading out soon anyway. Less awkward to not be in the dorm when they do the inspection, so it's definitely a good night to go out to eat. You know what, I’ve been craving onion rings, wanna go to that place across from - ” He paused as he noticed that Keith had frozen in place, eyes going wide. “Keith? What’s up?”

“What - what do you mean, the inspection?” Keith stammered.

Shiro frowned, taking a moment to realize what he meant, then he sucked in a breath through his teeth and stopped just short of slapping himself in the forehead. “Crap. Forgot we’re not supposed to say anything to you ahead of time. It’s nothing to worry about, they just go through and check each dorm to make sure there’s nothing dangerous, no contraband, and nothing’s been broken. They’re not going to get onto little things like laundry or bed not being made, so you’ll be fine.”

Keith, however, did not look reassured. “They can’t do that! That’s an invasion of privacy! It’s - they can’t - why didn’t they warn us?!”

Shiro’s frown deepened. “They said in the registration paperwork that living in the academy includes dorm checks. And it’s in the student handbook.”

Keith bit at his lip, eyes darting around the room as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I, um, I don’t - I don’t think I can go out to eat tonight.”

“Keith…” Shiro said slowly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

At the best of times, Keith was an awful liar, and this time his ‘nothing’ answer was even less believable than usual. Immediately Shiro’s thoughts started casting about, trying to take a guess as to what Keith could possibly be hiding. He had that knife of his, but he’d entrusted Shiro to keep it in his apartment for him. Had he stolen it back? It wasn’t as if Keith hadn’t stolen before. After all, the very day they had met…

Shiro quickly shook that thought out of his head. Keith had grown a lot in the time Shiro had known him, he hadn’t lashed out that way in ages, and it wasn’t fair for Shiro to assume Keith had reverted to old habits like that. Still, he needed an answer. “Keith,” he said, trying his best to make his voice stern without sounding angry or threatening. “I’m not going to judge you for whatever you’ve got here. I promise. But you have to abide by the academy rules while you’re here the Garrison, and the staff is going to enforce those rules. I can’t do anything about that, but I can help you with whatever you need right now. Okay? So what’s going on, Keith?”

For several seconds more Keith chewed silently at his lip. Then, after a deep breath, he walked to his bed and lifted up the blanket that hung over the side of the mattress and down to the floor.

Shiro’s eyes widened.

The area under the bed was hollow, meant for students to use as storage space. Most cadets would fill the space with folded stacks of clothes, crates of books, extra bedding, and the like. When Shiro had helped Keith move into his dorm, he’d had very few personal possessions to speak of. Shiro was pretty sure that space beneath the bed had been left empty.

It wasn’t empty anymore.

Instead, a large, clear, rectangular tank stood below the bed, a little landscape inside, dirt and rocks and shrubs and water. A lamp, currently turned off, stood aimed into the tank past the chickenwire mesh that covered the top, its cord plugged into the outlet in the wall near the pillow.

And dozing on a rock in the middle of the tank... was a lizard. No more than half a foot long, speckled with scales in shades of brown up to the tail, where the brown stopped and turned to black and white stripes. The lizard turned to face Shiro when the blanket was lifted, fixing him with tiny beady eyes and darting out its tongue.

It took Shiro a while to find his voice. “Keith,” he finally said. “Why do you have a lizard?”

“I’m sorry!” Keith cried, and when Shiro looked back up at him, he was surprised to see the agitation on his face, and the tremor in his hands as he wrung them together. “I found her in the student garage and I took her outside and set her loose but then when I went back there again later she was back and I didn’t want to just leave her there because she might have gotten run over or one of the other students might have found her and hurt her so I took her back to my dorm and she seemed to like it here so - ”

“Hey, hey,” Shiro said, lifting his hands and making a calming gesture toward Keith. “You need to breathe, okay? I’m not mad at you, I’m not. I just - I’m - I’m a little shocked. I didn’t expect that.”

“Please don’t turn me in,” Keith said. He moved his hands to start wringing them in the fabric of his shirt. “I was just trying to help her, I wasn’t doing anything bad, I swear.”

“Her?” Shiro repeated.

Keith nodded. “Um, the, uh - for zebra-tailed lizards, the males have these black markings on the side and blue ones on their stomach. The females don’t.”

“Ah,” Shiro said. “You really did your homework for this thing, didn’t you?”

Keith nodded again, and Shiro got down on his knees to get a closer look at the tank. The lizard stuck her tongue out at him again as his face neared her, and she darted off the rock to hide among some grass instead. “Where did you get all this?”

“Just brought the dirt and plants and stuff in from outside. And I’ve been catching bugs for food.”

“What about the tank and the lamp?”

Keith didn’t answer, and Shiro squinted closely at the lamp. “Hang on, are these from the student bio lab?”

“They weren’t using them!” Keith snapped. “The tank was empty when I found it and the lamp wasn’t even working right, I had to fix it myself! It’s not like anyone even noticed the stuff was gone!”

“Did you get permission to take the tank and the lamp, Keith?”

“I - ” He hesitated, and Shiro turned back toward him to see his arms crossed again, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “If I’d asked someone, they would have said no.”

“Well…” Shiro sighed. “Well, yeah, they definitely would have. You know you’re not allowed to keep a pet in your dorm.”

“But I - ” Keith’s chin trembled. “I was doing good, I swear. I did all the research and I’ve been feeding her well and - and I wasn’t gonna do anything to her. I wasn’t gonna hurt her or use her for a prank or anything, I swear. I promise, I was being good. I was being responsible. I promise. I just - I just wanted to help her.”

Shiro frowned as he straightened up, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Keith? Hey, look at me.” It took a moment, but Keith complied, turning dewy eyes up toward Shiro. “This has nothing to do with that. Okay? I don’t think that you were going to hurt her, and I’m sure you’re a very responsible pet owner. I know you meant well, Keith, I know you did. But there are other reasons it’s not allowed. The lizard could escape the tank and get lost in the Garrison, or make a mess. Or that lamp could have overheated when you had it on and burned your bed. And you’re supposed to be focusing on your classes and your flying, not on taking care of an animal. There’s also the small matter of you taking things out of the lab without permission…”

Keith chewed at his lip silently for a long moment before he spoke. “Am I gonna get kicked out?” he asked, voice cracking on the words.

Shiro shushed him lightly, squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. Tell you what, I can get this taken care of, okay? We can save going out to eat for tomorrow, and tonight I’ll sort out the whole, uh, lizard situation. It’s gonna be fine. But we have to get the lizard out of your dorm, and we have to get the tank and the lamp back to the lab where it belongs. You understand that, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith said quietly. “I guess.”

“Okay.” He gave Keith’s shoulder one more pat before moving to slide the tank out from under the bed. He unplugged the lamp and laid it on top, then hauled the tank into his arms and got to his feet with a grunt. “You got any extra blanket or anything in here? Something we can cover this up with?”

Keith went to his closet, pulled out an oversized towel, and helped drape it over the tank, blocking its contents from view. “Thanks,” Keith said. “I’m, um - I’m sorry. About all of this.”

“I know, it’s okay,” Shiro said, giving him a soft smile. “I’m not mad, Keith. You’re not in trouble. But no more stealing from the labs, okay? And no more secret pets. Can you promise me that?”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled. “Promise.”

“Good. Take it easy, Keith. I’ll see you tomorrow for that dinner, okay?”

Keith nodded, and Shiro gave him one last smile before opening the door and stepping into the hall and out of sight.

True to his word, Shiro was right on time the following day to pick Keith up for their promised meal. Keith was quiet as he climbed into the passenger seat of Shiro’s car, forlorn as he stared out the window at the buildings they passed.

“Everything go okay for you last night?” Shiro asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Mm-hm,” Keith said.

“You pass your dorm inspection?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. You know, I still need to give that towel of yours back to you, don’t I?” Keith replied with a non-committal grunt. “Tell you what, we can swing by my apartment before we eat and I can grab it for you.”

Keith raised a brow at him. “Or you could wait until next time you’re at the dorms.”

“Eh, I’d rather do it now. Don’t want to risk forgetting it. It’s fine, it’s on the way, it’ll only take a couple of minutes.”

“... Okay,” Keith said. He frowned at Shiro for a moment longer, but when Shiro didn’t say anything else or take his eyes off the road, he slowly turned back to gazing out the window.

A few minutes later they were parked in the lot outside of Shiro’s building, and Shiro turned the car off, unbuckled, and stepped out. He didn’t close the door behind him, though, and instead peeked back into the car. “You coming?” he asked.

“You’re just getting the towel, right?” said Keith. “Why do I need to come up?”

“Well, don’t want you overheating in the car. Come on. For my peace of mind.”

Keith sighed, but he unbuckled and climbed out of the car too with no further argument, and Shiro smiled as he led them up the stairs to the apartment he and Adam shared. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, stepping in first and then standing aside so Keith could see. Halfway past the threshold, Keith froze.

“Shiro?” he said. “Is that…?”

“Yep,” Shiro said, his grin broadening as Keith stepped slowly into the apartment. The faded loveseat that used to be up against the far wall had been moved further out into the den, and in its place stood a solid black table topped by a glass terrarium, fifty gallons at least if not bigger. It had the works: a substrate heater along the bottom frame, UVB lamp at the top, ventilated windows, a full biome inside bursting with cacti and succulents and various colors of dirt and rock surrounding a crystal-clear oasis in the center.

And resting atop a decorative cow skull, poking her head up from between the fronds of a ponytail palm that was giving her shade, was a very familiar zebra-tailed lizard.

“How did you - why did you - ?” Keith stammered.

“Well, see, Adam and I have been thinking about getting a pet for a while,” Shiro said, strolling toward the terrarium as Keith trailed behind in awe. “Initially, I actually had wanted to adopt a cat, but Adam’s allergic. And he grew up with mynah birds so we thought maybe we could get one of those, but it turns out this building doesn’t allow birds since they tend to cause noise problems. A lizard, though - they don’t make any noise, they don’t have any fur to set off allergies. It just made sense.”

“When did you get all this stuff?”

“Bought it last night, finished setting it all up this morning. Then I moved the lizard into the new tank, cleaned out the one you’d been using, and dropped that off back at the bio lab before I picked you up. She likes it, I think. She seemed to be really getting into exploring.”

Keith peered down into the terrarium with wide eyes. “So - so she’s officially yours now? Yours and Adam’s?”

“And yours,” Shiro said. When Keith turned curious eyes on him, he shrugged. “Well, you were the one who started taking care of her first, right? So I’m definitely going to need your help with her, especially when I’m not around. Besides, I think she missed you.”

“Can I?” Keith asked, gesturing to the latch on the screen top.

“Go ahead,” Shiro said.

Keith opened up the latch and set his hand down into the dirt next to the cow skull decoration. The lizard took a moment to gaze at it before scampering onto his palm, and Keith grinned as he pulled his arm out and she began skittering along his arm.

“By the way,” Shiro added as he watched, “Now that we’re official pet owners, you should really come up with a name for her. Got any suggestions?”

“Lizard,” Keith answered without hesitation.

“Are… are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Keith looked away from the lizard long enough to give Shiro an exasperated glance, as if this was something obvious that Shiro had no business being confused by. “Because she’s a lizard.”

“I, uh, I guess I can’t argue with that. Okay, Lizard it is.”

For a few moments more he contented himself simply watching as Keith let Lizard clamber around him, crawling up and down his arm and at one point slipping into his shirt collar and then reemerging in the cuff of his sleeve. Finally, though, his stomach gave a little rumble of impatience, and Shiro tapped Keith’s shoulder for his attention. “We’ve still got that dinner ahead of us,” he said. “You cool with taking a break for now, coming back later?”

“All right,” Keith said. He guided Lizard back into his hand and placed her back in the terrarium, letting his hand hover inside the tank for a few seconds as though reluctant to part with her before latching it shut again and turning around.

Shiro grinned and thumped him on the back. “No worries, kiddo. She’ll be right here waiting for us when we get back.”

“I know,” Keith said with a nod. He paused a moment, then with a hastily muttered, “Thanks,” he gave Shiro a quick one-armed hug before darting out to lead the way back down to the car. Shiro followed him with a smile.

#gentronweek #vldgen #keith #shiro #this one's just fluff #my writing #fic: keith's scaly secret

[ziracona]

please bless me with all of your dbd headcanons even just a crumb would satisfy me,,,,, lmao. Fr tho ur hcs are godly pls give me all of them especially for og 4 and wraif

Thank you!! I’m glad you like my hot takes!

Let’s see, og4.

Jake grows facial hair pretty easy (that part is just canon). Usually he either lets it grow and ignores it till it gets long, or stays cleanshaven, but the in-between stage is physically painful for everyone else at the campfire bc you wake up and see rugged 2day scruffy woodsman stretch and he sees you staring and goes, “What?” Looking thoroughly unimpressed and Meg sheds a tear and Claudette pretends to not be looking and stares at her journal and Dwight gets heart palpitations it’s just bad for the whole group. When he shaves he’s an edgy dumbass and does it with a sharpened hunk of metal he made into a knife for himself and Dwight saw him shaving once and had to go sit down.

Jake has a soft spot for many of the survivors he’s known longer (honestly at this point, he’s pretty attached to the lot of them though), but especially the ones who work really hard at protecting other survivors. Double points if you’re younger than him. He would kill for Claudette, and take a bullet meant for Quentin, but would not convey this to them at all. Jake puts almost zero effort into making sure people knows he likes them. The people he has a soft spot for especially are also not always the ones he prefers to spend time with. While they’re survivors he spends less time with personally, Jake respects Feng Min for being the snarky little gremlin she is, and Tapp’s dedication to his job even here. Weirdly, while the people he likes often aren’t aware of affection, the ones he respects but isn’t as close to usually are aware of the respect. Jake also thinks he doesn’t like having friends and spending time not alone, but he does.

If asked point blank his thoughts on a survivor he likes, he’d probably just shrug or say, “They contribute to the team,” or “She works hard,” or “He’s fine,” because Jake just be like that. He had a hard time getting close to anyone initially because of how he grew up. Jake’s very guarded. He’s used to people manipulating and using each other, which makes keeping anything vulnerable close to his chest just necessary as he sees it. Boy doesn’t trust easy. Or open up. Ya need a can opener. Boy also does not like getting pushed around. Least favorite killers (aside from Nightmare) are probably Doctor and Ghostface, because he cannot stand being forced to do things or used. He’d rather take a chainsaw to the back than have someone lord power over him. He’s also got a looong memory, so if you fuck him over, he is not the kind to forget and forgive. He is the kind to resent and remember. Not that he never forgives people, but boy would have to really believe whatever happened was regretted and the person wasn’t like that anymore to let something that made him very angry go. He’s quiet angry though. Bide your time and get vengeance kinda angry. Would never let someone push him around. If a killer tried to fuck with him, he’d do everything in his power to kill them.

While Jake is tough and likes to hike just to be out and moving, and enjoys toughing it out, Meg enjoys being outside more as a fun thing than a wildnerness lifestyle thing. She has a lot of energy, and even in the realm, all that adhd can be a bitch. It would be easy to focus on the shitty stuff happening and drown in that, so she likes to keep moving, like she has since she was a kid and started running. Meg loves hard, and if she cares about you, she’ll make sure you know it. Not good at shutting up or realizing if she’s been going on for too long, girl has passion for everything.

Meg talks a big game, but does not have as much confidence as she pretends to have. She has abandonment issues, but they’re less, ‘my dad abandoned me’ and more ‘everyone but my mom, from him to grade school friends, hasn’t stuck around,’ so she does worry about that and coming on too strong, which she is aware she often does, but she can’t get herself to turn down the power settings on herself even when she tries. She’s never been good at making friends, so all of this in the realm is kinda new to her, since no one can leave. Meg would tell almost no one those things about herself. She cares hard though, and will try to distract other people from realm despair any way she can, because it’s what she needs and she assumes what they must need too. And to be fair, she ain’t wrong. Good at cultivating activities and drinks loving her friends juice.

Big goofball. BIG goofball. Also big gay. Well, bi af, but w a pretty strong preference for the ladies. She is simple of heart. Sees a girl, loses ability to think. Bonded with Nea over this problem. High int, low wisdom, big dumbass. Her weaknesses include girls’ eyes, voices, accents, freckles, scars, stomachs, legs, ass, titties, hair, hair dye, laughs, hands, eye contact, and cute accessories. Not great at expressing her feelings when she catches them, but tries hard. Actually pretty good at romancing once she gets into the groove. It’s just getting there she sucks at. Loyal as hell. Will go to bat for her friends and would rather die than betray them.

Meg has a real temper, especially when she feels like something being done to her or someone else is unjust/unfair, and will always try to fix those things even when it’s hopeless. Can and will weaponize her anger extremely effectively. Ridiculous memory for pop culture, shit memory for homework and things she was supposed to be doing. Memelord, but with some class.

Idk if this is because I identified with Claudette really strongly when I first started playing dbd or not, but I have always seen her as Asexual & Panromantic. Attracted to kindness. 

She gets overwhelmed fairly easily, but has been improving that by necessity since arriving in the realm, and can tap into the mom-friend override to fix problems for people who aren’t her. Has a hard time telling when people are teasing her/joking, but everyone knows this so they take it easier on her than each other.

Like Meg, had no friends before this, so it’s exciting and new, and a little scary, but mostly really good. She worries about other people a lot, and doesn’t always know how to help, but she tries. Very relieved Dwight volunteered to be team leader.

Enjoys recording things and studying. Would be fascinated by the Entity’s world if she wasn’t always being killed. Seems small and weak and easy to take down, but she has the strength of will to kill God herself if backed into a corner, especially when fighting for someone she loves. Sweet does not mean she will not fight back, and since being in the realm, and getting over her initial freezing up at the sight of horrifying murderers, she has worked extremely hard to be brave and take an active roll protecting people whenever she can. She is still terrified a lot, but has learned to push through that to help her friends and herself.

Loves animals, including ones a lot of people don’t like (bugs, snakes, rats, etc) and would and has definitely tried to snag a scorpion and a cockroach from trials to study before, and tried to befriend the realm rats now that they exist. Tries to get Jake to show her how to get birds to like you but does know how to ask him right.

Nervous about interpersonal relationships and unsure of herself. Really likes everyone but horrible at telling how other people feel. Feels like she always comes off wrong and can’t put words to things well even when she understands them super well. Does her best 24/7. Incredibly smart and talented. Knowledgeable about her passions. Is always thinking 4th dimensionally and has saved the team many a time by pulling off wild bullshit that makes sense kind of just barely but no one else would have thought of.

Dwight was a loser and kind of a douche growing up, kind of selfish and entitled and weak, but is no longer that person after a few years in the realm. He works hard to make good on his promises to look out for everyone, and cares about them very genuinely. Great at thinking on his feet and sounding like he knows more than he does, wonderful at regulating tasks to people efficiently, and not a bad strategist. 

Being the kind of person now who would not have liked the person he was a few years ago causes a little cognitive dissonance and self-doubt, but he’s trying. Genuinely enjoys hearing about people’s days and interests even when he’s completely lost. 

Not a fan of heights. If the fear of heights was not vastly overpowered by fear of sharp object, he would actively avoid the old ironworks in trials, but alas.

Used to play video games a lot. Thought he was good at them. Was not. Was definitely not.

Self-improvement king. Works hard and is a really decent dude. A very good sport. Used to be an asshole, so now that he’s nice he’s pretty damn forgiving if other people put in the work to improve too (my boy’s no hypocrite). Has mellowed out a lot and is pretty chill and nice but the damn fool will break his own heart by taking things people say the wrong way, or things they mean as a joke literally, if it’s something he thinks is true about himself, and will totally miss context and vocal inflection and just be like, “I know but I’m trying TuT.”

Big gay but in denial and confused

Just at this point really does want people to get to go home and be ok. Loves hearing stories and listening to his friends talk at the campfire because it makes him feel like things might be okay. Get the same result just by being near his friends, especially the other og3 who have been with him forever. If they’re all still there, things have to turn out okay someday. :’ ) Has never really told them that, because he’s supposed to be the leader, and thinks they’d feel less secure if they knew he depends on being able to sleep close to them at night to feel like he’ll be okay himself. Not in a they’d judge me way, but in a I really don’t want to let them down way. He wants them to think he’s got a handle on things even when he really doesn’t.

I was gonna do Philip too but I got this this morning and this post is already ridiculously long TuT, so here you go. Plus one mini Philip one.

Philip feels responsible for the young man he saw his boss kill the day the Entity got him. He knows that he killed scores of people unknowingly for Azarov, and those weigh, but he thinks sometimes late at night that if he could have just saved that one, it might have been enough to make him feel absolved someday for all the other deaths on his head. He remembers his face very well, and how terrified he was, and the moment of confusion and relief, and almost gratefulness when Philip let him go. He thinks over and over that if he’d just talked to him–assumed something was up, and gotten him to be quiet. Seen Azarov in time and stopped him. So many little things, and the young man would have lived. Even if the others were things he was completely blind to, he feels like that one is especially his fault, and that he could have stopped it. That one really haunts him.

#long post #dead by daylight #dbd #Philip Ojomo #Dwight Fairfield #Jake Park #Claudette Morel #Meg Thomas #I love doing these but I have like 6000 headcanons and I'm not good at picking one TuT I'm happy to do more but please help me give me an #area to focus on I'm dyin' scoob I'm boo boo the fool #Too many thoughts head full #the wraith #ask #anonymous #In Living Memory #In Living Memory (fic)