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mandareeboo · 3 years

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Unfinished Work #43: “Run Girl Run” (Completed)

Title: Run Girl Run

Summary: Anne has a mental breakdown

I stayed up until two in the morning to start this bad boy, months ago! I wrote it directly after True Colors aired. I’m thinking of breaking down my patreon and rebooting it as something else, and this was one of the ones I originally posted there. It just didn’t feel big enough for it’s own posting.

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The hard part is, shockingly enough, not picking her way across a highway and towards the nearest map, then home. It's not even reuniting with her mother, though the bitter tears soak her sweater and drip down her breast plate. It's not even explaining where she's been- a feat, were it not for the trio of frogs and currently damaged robot frog with her.

It's being gently led to her room, lined with dust and very much Not Who Anne Is Anymore, getting handed some towels, and being told, "Wash up, คนดี. You smell like a sewer." Hop Pop smiles and nods like he understands the problem with that, hovering behind her mother, and then it's just her, Polly, and Frobo's head.

Alone.

Anne fiddles with the collar of her chestplate, perched precariously on her bed. It's too soft, after months of basement mattresses and traveling caravans. The idea of sleeping on it feels almost alien. It didn't help that her armor, of Newtopian make and model, isn't exactly designed to come off by hand. It's more of a two-newts-one-screwdriver maneuver. She liked that. Liked it couldn't be ripped from her.

Not like Marcy.

Or Sasha.

Or Frobo.

Or Sprig.

She watches out of the corner of her eye as Sprig shuffles closer, reaching out to touch the edge of her skirt. That's too much touch for now, she decides, standing abruptly. "You guys wanna see a shower?"

Sprig's hand pauses. He tilts his head. "Those... weird waterfalls?" he asks tentatively. "I thought you were making those up."

"Dude, you saw one in Suspicion Island."

"You said that I shouldn't trust the moving pictures."

"Oh. Right." Anne flings the towel across her shoulder and confidently leads them into the bathroom. Once, she'd considered the place pretty banal. Sink, shower, toilet, small window to air out steam. It looks like heaven compared to hurried dunks in streams. She pulls back the curtain, gesturing to the metal sprocket. "Here it is. You twist the knobs on the bottom to make water come out. It can be as hot or as cold as you want."

"Oooh, weird water magic." Polly scrunched up, wiggling her rear. "I'm gonna jump in! Like a grown up frog!"

Anne felt something hot and shameful lick her insides as she noticed the pollywog's little legs tremble. She didn't think getting your legs was something the average frog related to almost dying. "Here, Polly." She took the girl and held her up close to the nozzle. "I'm gonna need someone to make sure my water magic is just right."

It's not a hot shower. Anne would be pressed to call it lukewarm. She pulls down dusty bottles and shows them off one at a time. "This is shampoo. It cleans hair. Conditioner can help make your hair softer and shiny. And this bad boy is body wash- you just scrub everywhere else with it."

Polly wrangles the shampoo open and sniffs, recoiling instantly. "It's like your bath bomb thingy."

"It's oatmeal and vanilla. It's to make my hair smell nice."

"Why would you want your hair to smell nice?" she replies. "That'll just make you more enticing to predators."

"We... don't really get a lot of those here." Anne flicks it shut and sets it on the lip of the tub. "You should get first wash. To celebrate your legs."

Polly perks up a little bit, proud, before her mood dips. She tugs her bow nervously. "Can we give Frobo a shower?"

Anne felt her fingers start to clench and forced them to stop. She didn't want to risk hurting the poor pollywog. "I don't think the stuff I use will be good for him."

"Oh."

"But I can go down the street and get some good robot shampoo and body wash after! How's that sound?"

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Sprig is waiting for her in her main bedroom, legs swinging restlessly off her bed. He looks around with a surprising amount of keenness, considering how rough a day they've all had. "Wow," he says. "You live here, huh?"

Anne plopped down beside him with a tired sigh. "Yeah."

"I mean, I knew you lived here. But it's different to see your home and know you live here, you know? You've got a bunch of junk, just like me! And toys!" Sprig twiddled his thumbs. "I got so used to you living in our basement, I forgot you must have important stuff too."

"Can't exactly stuff nostalgia in a backpack for school, buddy." Anne reached around, so used to the weight on her back, before pausing. "Oh. Right. I left it behind."

He winced and nodded. He rustled around his jacket and pulled out a screwdriver, also Newtopian in design. "You want me to get that?"

Anne twisted so her back was to him in lieu of a reply. The familiar squeaking of screws coming loose made her shoulders relax a little. Like prying a particularly revolting ooze from her foot after a long day in the fields.

"That was nice of you," Sprig says finally, scooping up and pocketing a screw, "Letting Polly have the first shower."

Anne shrugged. "She's earned it."

The lengthy pause only seems to confirm it, before Sprig slowly wraps his arms around her midsection. "You did too," he says, soft. "I- I think you did, anyway."

Anne thinks of Marcy, of Sasha, of Frobo, and even of Sprig, and shakes her head. "No, I haven't."

And she cries.

Because nothing will ever be okay again.

#Unfinished Work #Writing #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Amphibia #Amphibia Fanfic #Amphibia Fanfiction #Anne Boonchuy #Sprig Plantar #Polly Plantar

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dershloop · 3 years

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Breakfast In Bed

“Snowball! Happy Valentine’s day!” Cole yelled, kicking open Zane’s bedroom door, “I made you breakfast like the amazing, loving and caring boyfriend I am!” He said, walking over to his bed and standing over him.

“Cole, it’s 8 am,” Zane said plainly, rubbing his eyes with a yawn, looking up at his boyfriend and back at the clock next to his bed, that clearly stated it was too early to be awake, especially when it was a Sunday.

“Z, man, bro, dude, I’m begging you. Please eat the breakfast I made you,” Cole said, trying his best to mimic the expression of a kicked puppy.

“I never said I wouldn’t eat it, it’s just that it’s 8 am and you look like you’ve barely slept,” Zane said, sitting up and stretching out his arms out, rolling his shoulders back, listening as the sprockets and joints in his shoulders pop satisfyingly.

“So you will eat it?” Cole said excitedly, looking down nervously at the very full looking tray in his arms. Zane laughed endearingly and moved over in bed, patting the space he’d just been lay in as in indicator that Cole could get in with him and he’d eat breakfast. His eyes lit up and he dashed over, careful not to spill any of the food or coffee onto his white sheets. He lifted the tray off his own lap and placed it on Zane’s carefully. His eyes scanned over the tray, a proud smile growing on his face.

“You never answered the second part of the statement Cole. How much did you sleep last night?” Zane said, looking from the plate of very thick pancakes to the cup of jet black tea. The bowl of strawberries, blueberries and other assorted berries was overflowing, a few toppling out onto the tray itself. He had a feeling there wouldn’t be much fruit left in the monastery until the next big shop from the looks of things. There was however a pot of Zane’s favourite yoghurt. It was a thick greek style yoghurt in the flavour strawberry, with a spoon next to it. That was a nice touch, he thought.

“Not really, I couldn’t sleep,” Cole answered plainly with a shrug.

“Why not?”

“I didn’t have my teddy bear with me,” Cole said, smiling sweetly, resting his head on Zane’s shoulder. Zane laughed, heat beginning to rise to his face. He knew full well Cole was referring to him.

“Why didn’t you just get in bed with me?” Zane said, confused. The nindroid wouldn’t lie, he had had trouble getting to sleep too. He was so used to Cole coming and climbing in bed with him and filling half of his bed, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close that the lack of that last night almost made him sad. Needless to say, his bed had been very, undeniably cold.

“I didn’t want to get out of bed early tomorrow and disturb you! This was supposed to be a complete surprise and an alarm going off at 7 wouldn’t exactly help me.” “Fair, fair. What do you want me to try first then? Tea or the pancakes?” Zane asked, his hand hovering over the fork and knife on the side of the tray.

“Pancakes! You’d be surprised how long it takes to make them, the fuckers never cook evenly it’s so annoying. I only made 3 because they were pretty big so I didn’t want to make you puke or something. Wouldn’t be the best valentines day gift ever if you did,” Cole said with a yawn, pulling the covers up a bit to keep himself warm, not moving his head from Zane’s shoulder.

“Ok, pancakes it is,” Zane said enthusiastically, picking up the fork and pushing them through the small but thick stack, then grabbing some strawberry pieces and eating them with the pancakes. Nice… wasn’t exactly the word he’d use to describe them. Somewhere along the line, he’d forgotten an ingredient or a step but Zane couldn’t pinpoint where. How exactly did one mess up pancakes? However, Zane loved Cole a hell of a lot more than he disliked the taste of them, so powered on.

“And? What do you think?” Cole said, practically beaming that Zane had gone in so quickly for another bight.

“Delicious C,” Zane said, quickly swallowing down his third mouthful, “They’re amazing, so fluffy and uh… tasty!” Zane ate some more fruit with his next forkful, not wanting to subject himself to the taste for any longer than necessary.

“Are you sure? You don’t look as if you’re enjoying them that much,” Cole said hesitantly, raising his head to look at the nindroids face suspiciously.

“I promise you, Cole, they’re delicious. I’m just tired is all. I’ll have some of the tea, that might help wash it down and wake me up,” Zane said quickly, putting down the fork onto his plate and lifting up the tea, hesitantly bringing the cup to his mouth and drinking some. It wasn’t scolding hot, much to Zane’s surprise, and it didn’t taste too bad. A little sweet for his liking but he didn’t mind. Cole had a habit of zoning out and forgetting what he was doing halfway through a task, so he assumed that’s just what happened.

“How do you like the tea?” Cole asked, still not buying into the facade that his pancakes were any good.

“It’s lovely, rocky, I promise. All of this is. I really appreciate it,” Zane said with a smile, leaning towards Cole and pressing a small kiss onto his lips in an attempt to reassure him. Naturally, because this was Cole, it worked and he lay back happily, resting his head back on his shoulder.

Zane ate a few more mouthfuls, packed with fruit of course, before he decided to stop. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the facade of ‘Don’t worry, Love, they’re amazing’, so he ultimately decided to quit while he was ahead. He picked up the spoon and begun eating his yoghurt, savouring the taste of something that wasn’t whatever was in those pancakes. “Did I make too much? You didn’t finish them,” Cole said, looking at the plate with now significantly less pancake than there was a few minutes ago.

“Maybe. But that’s ok gumdrop, I still loved them,” Zane said, putting the now-empty pot down and finishing his tea.

“Popsicle? Snowball? Snowflake?” Cole said with pleading puppy dog eyes, looking at Zane as if he’d never eaten anything in his life.

“Yes, you can eat my leftovers,” Zane said with a laugh, handing him the tray. Cole’s eyes lit up and he picked up the fork, digging into the remained of the pancakes. Zane couldn’t help but think it was a bold move to go without any fruit, but he had to find out they were borderline uneatable somehow, and Zane knew for a fact it wouldn’t be from him breaking the unfortunate news.

Cole put the forkful of pancakes into his mouth, chewing them slowly, pulling a disgusted face before quickly swallowing and grabbing a few strawberries and raspberries to cleanse his mouth.

“That was genuinely disgusting, Z, what the fuck,” Cole said in disdain, looking at the half-empty plate, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Zane gulped and picked up the tray, moving it to the floor next to his bed so it wouldn’t get knocked over and spill over his white sheets.

“You were so excited and you barely slept because of it? I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Zane said with a sigh, looking at Cole in his peripheral vision.

“Oh Snowball you, dummy,” Cole said with a laugh, wrapping his arms around Zane’s neck and throwing himself at him, causing Zane to fall so he was now lying horizontally across his bed. He laughed and wrapped his arms around Cole’s waist. “Move around Z, I want to hug you properly this isn’t comfortable,” He complained. Zane laughed.

“You sir, are a little shit. You threw yourself at me!”

“Silence! I won’t listen to this hearsay!” Cole declared.

“What would you do if I, for instance, didn’t shut up and just kept on talking?” Zane said, pushing himself up and spinning them both around so his back was now to his wall. He smirked, absentmindedly rubbing his hands up and down Cole’s back, merely anticipating what was about to happen.

“I would… do this!” Cole said, pulling himself up and beginning to plant kisses all over Zane’s face and neck. Zane laughed, more and more heat rising to his face.

“Cole you little shit, stop it!” Zane laughed, grabbing Cole’s face between his hands and holding it in front of his own, glaring playfully at him. Cole smiled sweetly as if he didn’t know exactly what he’d just done. “Come here you,” Zane muttered, pulling Cole’s face towards his own and pushed their lips together kissing him softly. Cole quickly sunk into the kiss, smiling and resting his hands on Zane’s waist softly as if he were holding some kind of priceless artefact. Which, in fairness, he was.

Zane pulled away with a smile, running his hands through Cole’s long, messy hair, bringing them to rest over his shoulders.

“Get back in bed, you feel cold and you look exhausted,” Zane said, raising his eyebrows at Cole.

“Wow, thank you for noticing,” Cole said with a yawn, climbing off of Zane’s lap and crawling under the covers. Zane lay back down too, pulling the covers up as to cover his own torso. Cole quickly snuggled up to his boyfriend, resting his head on his chest and listening to the mechanisms Wizz and whurr beneath his skin. Cole wrapped his arms around Zane’s torso and closed his eyes, already falling asleep. Zane rested a hand on his head, gently playing with his hair.

“Good night Snowflake,” Cole muttered wearily, melting under Zane’s fingers as they twirled and fiddled with his hair.

“Goodnight gumball,” Zane said with a small laugh, eventually even falling back to sleep himself.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago zane #ninjago zane julien #ninjago cole #ninjago cole brookstone #cole brookstone #zane julien #glacier #glaciershipping #glacier shipping #ninjago fanfiction #valentines day fic

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askaceattorney · 4 years

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Dear askrikkaiandhyotei,

The...entire cast!?

Well, Turnabout Time Traveler happens to be favorite case anyway, so why not?

Our first guest is the crooked head servant, Mr. Dumas Gloomsbury. (Might as well get him out of the way first.)

Of course he isn’t. He’s just a disgruntled servant of the Sprocket family who secretly hates them all for what they’ve done to his reputation, even to the point of being willing to murder someone who would become the newest addition to the family, as well as destroying a prized possession designed by her groom-to-be.

So..........yeah. Very likable guy. Thankfully, he’s only on the scene for a brief moment before the titular “time travel” occurs.

That brings us to our next guest, Ms. Ellen Wyatt, soon to be Mrs. Ellen Sprocket, except for the fact that she’s been accused of murder. Like most defendants, she doesn’t seem like the type to kill someone -- she’s calm, mild-mannered, and well put together. Well...usually.

You didn’t expect 100% normalcy in a new character, did you? Heck, we’re lucky to get 50% in this series. Thankfully, the emotional Ms. Wyatt knows how to pull herself together in an instant.

Quite the enviable skill to have, isn’t it?

This beautiful bride-to-be wants nothing more than to be proven innocent so that she can be married to the one and only Sorin Sprocket of Sprocket Aviation. Instead of seeking help from the Wright Anything Agency on her own, however, she’s brought to them by someone else.

That brings us to an unexpected guest from yesteryear (and an uninvited one):

Before getting to know Ellen, we’re abruptly introduced to a brand new Larry Butz with a brand new look! ...And the same old smell, unfortunately.

He introduces “Elly” as his brand new fiance, much to Phoenix’s surprise (and everyone in the known universe’s), but it turns out to be another one of his usual romantic escapades. What is true is that he helped his beloved Elly escape the room she was confined in, and even shook off the police for her. Some might call this heroic...if they don’t know the Butz. As someone who does know him, Phoenix delivers a line from his former mentor:

On the plus side, Larry’s been doing more than chasing women since we last saw him -- he held onto the name he borrowed from his late mentor and became a picture book author.

Not exactly what I’d expect someone in that field to look like, but progress is progress, I guess.

Moving back to “Elly,” she claims to be as clean and pure as her pure-white dress, as well as something else -- something that’s a bit harder to believe.

Like I said, normalcy doesn’t seem to come naturally to new Ace Attorney characters, but her explanation of how she was almost killed, traveled back in time, and saw history rewritten takes the abnormal cake, especially coming from someone as sound-minded as Ellen. Or is she really as sound-minded as she looks?

We can only hope.

I love how she keeps everything she needs for housekeeping in one place, by the way, almost Mary Poppins-style.

Fast forwarding (no pun intended) through some re-introductions to Maya as our co-council and Edgeworth as the case’s prosecutor (something us long-time Ace Attorney fans can’t help but love), we’re eventually introduced to the master himself, Mr. Sorin Sprocket, who has his own personality quirks...or rather, a severe lack of personality.

Like many genius inventors, he isn’t very social (his preferred method of communication being the paper airplane message), and always seems to be lost in his thoughts until someone pulls him back into reality. Even stranger than that, he doesn’t seem the least bit worried about his fiance’s trial. In Phoenix’s his words, he isn’t the easiest guy to wrap your head around.

On top of that, he has his own thing to say about time travel:

He and Ellen apparently both believe in time travel, but apart from that, they don’t seem to have much in common. In fact, having met the two of them, one might think they’re polar opposites of each other, and...well, they’d be right, but as we learn later on, there’s more to Sorin’s silence than just an obsession with his work.

And speaking of obsession...

Our next guest, while also quite abnormal, is a bit more level-headed than the previous new characters. He’s well-mannered, detail-oriented, shrewd, and takes the utmost care of Sorin. Not to mention he's tech-savvy enough to fix a broken radio in a matter of seconds.

I’m surprised Phoenix and Maya didn’t consider the possibility of him being a machine himself, like they did with Lisa Basil.

He happens to have one of my favorite pun names, by the way. Besides being clever and describing him perfectly, it almost sounds like it could be a real person’s name.

While Mr. Nichody does a good job of being the least interesting character thus far, it turns out that he and his “expensive good luck charm” play one of the most important roles in this case. Not to mention he gives the biggest piece of foreshadowing in the episode:

Funny he should say that when there’s a spirit medium right in front of him, but I guess he doesn’t have time for unimportant details like that.

As the story goes on and the revelations start pouring in, we learn about Sorin’s older sister Selena, who was originally going to be the next president of Sprocket Aviation. This, unfortunately, was not to be...

The sudden loss of his sister provides an explanation for his closed-off attitude and interest in time machines, but the mysteries surrounding that tragic day are only beginning.

We also learn that Mr. Nichody believes Ellen is guilty of her alleged crime, and for that reason, he’s strongly opposed to letting her marry Sorin. Could he be right in doubting her, or is there something else behind is disapproval? Ellen doesn’t seem that bad, after all. Just a little...what’s the term?

There you go.

Then comes one of the bigger twists -- it turns out Sorin and his in-laws were responsible for Ellen’s supposed trip through time, which turned out to be an elaborate scheme to make her believe her near-death experience with Gloomsbury was only a dream. Or so says Nichody, at least.

But once again, this is only the beginning.

Even with the possibility of time travel ruled out, Ellen’s guilt hasn’t been disproved just yet. The only hope Phoenix has is the person she claims she saw attacking Gloombury before losing consciousness. Unfortunately, the only suspect he can come up with so far is her fiance, thus introducing the possibility of him having to take her place in prison.

Considering every case up until now has had some form of happy ending, it’d be quite the unusual turn of events for this happy couple to have to be separated whether we win or lose the case...but is it impossible?

As tragic as that possibility might be, it sets up a scene that happens to be one of my favorite kinds -- one where someone is compelled to give up something, even if it’s his or her own life, purely out of love for someone else.

Her words are touching, but soon after saying them, she’s forced to prove just how steadfast her love is for Sorin, even in a cruel twist of fate -- namely, his pointing the blame for Gloomsbury’s death in her direction.

That face alone is enough to break anyone’s heart, but thankfully, that’s where the plot twists just begin. The first one reveals that Sorin went to rescue his bride-to-be in the most bizarre way possible.

Then it turns out he really didn’t, or so he says. Then it turns out he was attacked by Gloomsbury along with Ellen. Then comes one that turns everything he’s said so far upside-down:

It turns out time travel is possible, but not in the way everyone was hoping, or in a way anyone would want -- due to his anterograde amnesia, Sorin “goes back in time” whenever he goes to sleep. This revelation sheds a lot of light on his personality, his compulsive note-taking, and his feelings toward Ellen. Not to mention, it turns out (sheesh, I keep saying that) he was responsible for the car crash that took his sister’s life. But luckily, that's not all his condition reveals.

Someone decided to take advantage of Sorin’s memory being dependent on what he writes in his notebook in order to paint him as Gloomsbury’s murder. Who might that someone be? Well, for anyone who’s read the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (or enough murder mysteries involving rich families), it should be pretty obvious -- the butler did it!

But what motive could a close friend and servant have for manipulating Sorin’s memories? Well, like many an Ace Attorney culprit, he’s not as level-headed as he appears to be.

The rogue butler in this case turns out to be the once-fiance of Sorin’s sister, as well as the one who operated on her after the car accident occurred...or, rather, who almost did.

After some impromptu x-rays and the testimony that wasn’t there, we finally learn the whole truth about Nichody, Gloomsbury, and the plot to exact their revenge on Sorin and his bride. It turns out Sorin wasn’t the only one stuck in the past.

In a beautiful yet tragic symbolism, Selena’s pocket watch stopped ticking on the same day her heart stopped beating, which, for Nichody, was the day time stopped.

This brings us to our final guest, one who could only be here in spirit -- Ms. Selena Sprocket. In Ellen’s words, Selena would’ve said, “Leave this ill will behind. Your time is yours to live.” To an inconsolable time traveler, these words hold no meaning, but just then...

Whether it’s a coincidence or a message from Selena from beyond (which might actually be believable in the Ace Attorney universe), Pierce is reminded that, sooner or later, time moves on.

And on that note, Ellen and Sorin are finally able to move on from this rough patch in their lives and experience their “First Startup of Love.”

Speaking of the happy couple, the one thing that stuck with me about this episode more than Nichody’s epiphany is how devoted Ellen is to Sorin from beginning to end.

With the knowledge that he might forget everything about her, himself, their wedding, and any other experiences they might share together, her devotion to him is ultimately proven to be the real deal. His willingness to risk his life for her also proves that this devotion goes both ways. In the end, there’s nothing, past, present, or future, that can keep them apart. Why, you ask?

And hey, even Larry found it in himself to move on! How about that?

Thus ends a beautiful story, a beautiful reunion of the original characters, and a beautiful finale(?) to the Ace Attorney series. Sure, there was tragedy along the way, but after an ending like that, I’d like to see each of these characters, new and old, take a bow.

Just...don’t throw them any flowers.

-The Co-Mod

#askrikkaiandhyotei #Mod Post #Co Mod #Character Essay #Dumas Gloomsbury #Ellen Wyatt #Sorin Sprocket #Pierce Nichody #Selena Sprocket #Mod Commentary #Been a while hasn't it?

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charlezarrd · 4 years

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Tagged by @simplyghosting! Wow, thanks!

Name: Charles

Nicknames: I went by Charle for a while, but i’ve also been known by Hummusman300, thanks to some of my youtube days. Roundy isn’t a nickname, it’s more of an in-joke from the discord server I run.

Zodiac: I think I’m a Capricorn, but when I tried to look it up, I found that I’m ALSO a Pisces and ALSO a Sagittarius. But I think I’m a Capricorn.

Height: it fluxuates between 5′10″ and 5′11″

Languages: English. Bits of broken Italian, Irish, and Japanese as well, but I’m not sure those count any more than highschool Spanish.

Nationality: USA

Favorite season: Fall. I like pretty colors, and not too hot, and no snow yet.

Favorite flower: You know, I don’t think about flowers all that much. But in the spirit of The Little Prince, I’m gonna have to say a rose.

Favorite scent: citruses, freshly brewed coffee, the smell of literally anything baking, Garlic/Shallots/Onions being cooked

Dogs or cats?: Cats. I’ve got nothing against dogs, except that I’ve been terrified of larger dogs my entire life due to a childhood incident that I don’t remember. Small dogs are ok though, but lots of yipping can sometimes trigger my hypersensitivity.

Number of blankets: All of them. A fuzzy one on the bottom, one above that to match the fitted sheet, two comforters, and a weighted blanket.

Dream trip: Trips are meaningless unless they’re done with people you’re close to. I’ve been around lots of places, like Italy, Ireland, England, Puerto Rico, and Hawaii, on vacations with my family, so travel is a thing I’m sort of used to, even though I hate doing it. I think it might be worth it to go to Japan, or back to Italy or Ireland, as long as I get to bring @the-backspin-alchemist and/or @katoreikakei

Blog established: March 2014, but I dropped off the face of the earth for a while after dropping out of cool leg. I’m back now, and BETTER THAN EVER.

Wish i could delete all my old whiny-ass posts, though.

Random fact: Back when I posted some of my writing to deviantart, (I don’t do that anymore, please don’t look for me), I think I stopped someone from hurting themselves real bad. I don’t know the person, I’ve never spoken to them again. But I told them they were loved and that life is worth living. ...I hope, whoever they are, that they’re safe and happy.

Gender: Male

Current time: It is 10:46 AM.

Favorite fictional character: Oh, god. Don’t make me choose. So many. This is literally gonna change every time you ask me. Although, I think, if I absolutely had to pick one, right now presently? I’d have to say Paula from Earthbound. She gets kidnapped, and her response is “Well, I definitely could break out on my own, but I really want to meet this Ness guy, so I’ll just telepathically ask him to come rescue me.”

Coffee, hot tea, or hot chocolate?: I like them all! But if you made me pick one, it depends on the time of day! Coffee in the mornings, tea in the daytime, afternoon, and night, and hot chocolate as a treat after shoveling snow.

Average hours of sleep: 6-8. It varies depending on my mental state. I’m usually fine with about 7 though.

Favorite artists: Train, Counting Crows, Barenaked Ladies, Toad The Wet Sprocket, Dido, Carlos Santana,

Stuck in my head: The Forest Kingdom theme from Nier: Automata. I just played that part of the game last night.

Last movie I saw: Onwards, i think it was called? That pixar one about the elves and the magic. It was honestly way better than I would have

Last thing I Googled: ‘Homestuck Array Modus’. I had forgotten the specifics of how it works, and even though I’m conducting research onto how I should write Skaia Hates You, (by reading homestuck itself, which is more of a chore from this angle, and not actually fun.) I remember John getting Array modus way later than I am currently, whereas I needed the info now for writing purposes.

I’m trying to clean up some of the obnoxiousness of Homestuck early on, for SHY, just so I can focus more on the characters and their stories, rather than bullsh*t inventory management. So everyone gets Array Modus.

Other blogs: I run @rustedwhitechocolate for an RP with my characters, but I don’t use it much, I dunno what’s happened with it. I run @metalangelsuzu as another RP blog, attached to this one, but I’m thinking of deleting it. And finally there’s @thegreybard for an interactive idea that Backspin and I planned called Cantor’s Quest, (Made in the style of like, Ruby Quest or Problem Sleuth), but never properly got off the ground, because neither of us got off our asses to art, and we didn’t think it would get enough traction. They’re out here cluttering up cyberspace, and we really should think about deleting them.

Do I get asks?: Sometimes, but not as many as I’d like. I liked it when I got a bunch of asks for the Skaia Hates You AMA, that was fun.

Reason for URL: So, I have a youtube channel, where I used to do gaming stuff in highschool, because my best friend at the time got me into LetsPlays. Eventually, I joined a minecraft server for small LPers, run by a cool dude going by IAmTheFusedShadows, i dunno if he has a tumblr, I haven’t heard from him since that server closed down. Anyway, I told the people there that I was named Charles, and earned the nickname Charlezard, since I was doing, I think my Mystery Dungeon series at the time, and was playing as a Charmander. Anyway, that’s why I’m Charlezarrd! (The version with one R was taken).

Followers/following: 97 followers, following 40 people, many of whom are inactive former mutuals or alt accounts. I’m scared of following more people because I want to actually keep up with what I see on my dash, and not lose updates from the peeps i like.

Lucky number: 3 and 14.

Currently wearing: Dark blue-grey cargo pants, a white oktoberfest tee that my dad gave to me when it stopped fitting him, two hoodies, one light grey, and the other blue with dragons all over it, and finally yellow socks with Wario on them, which my sister got me for christmas.

Dream job: I’d love to run an independant digital media studio one day, with the help of @the-backspin-alchemist. So far, so crushing it!

Favorite foods: Prime Rib, Steak, Omelettes. ...Sorry, that’s a MOTHER, joke. It really depends on what I’m in the mood for, but I’m a big fan of authentic ramen, or a really good burger. I could go for a baked potato right now, too...

Instruments: I played piano in middle school. Pretty sure I’ve forgotten everything. Does it still count?

Favorite song (That Isn’t a VGM): Feels Like Fire by Dido & Carlos Santana. Ooh, or Odds Are by Barenaked Ladies. Ahhh, this one is tough, there are so many good choices!

Tagging, some old friends, some new friends: @scribbleflow @azavezel @chie-arale @ultipoter @claudev0nregan @katoreikakei @over-and-underhill @barakoodra @louceph

I don’t even know if some of these people are still active, or if you even want to do this. To those tagged: Absolutely no pressure, I don’t expect anyone will follow-up to this, I just tagged people I think are cool. You can politely just ask me to not tag you again, and I will respect that. As... Any decent person should.

#Tag Game #I was tagged!#But also TAG YOU'RE IT

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pearlsartblog2019 · 5 years

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Monster Verse AU: Part four

SPG Monster Verse AU: Part 4

Notes: Notes: Don’t own SPG… all of those lovelies belong to the bennetts and co. I just do strange things in stories with the characters for fun.

Don’t own Sprocket Or Dex they be long to the very awesome: https://spg-fanbot-cousins.tumblr.com/

Pearl is my own character and is used in this and several other stories. Time period note : this is set in about 2009, I have here in.. used some of the old mythology about kitsune being shapeshifters to help move the story along. Rabbit HAS transitioned in this one. No it does not match up with the actual time after all this is an au, so i changed that a wee bit. Now Enjoy the show..

It was the time of night when they should be getting ready to go to sleep. Sunrise only an hour or so away.

Before they left on this insane trip they had made sure that all of the kids were in bed and soundly sleeping in case anything did happen and wanted no panic when they returned.

Upgrade and Jon were watching them tonight as usual. Rabbit had offered to stay, the kitsune having just recently gotten her ninth tail and transitioned to a new form. She was still slightly unsure of her new powers. So she had informed them that she would help watch after the kids and remained with the two usual caretakers Until she was more sure of herself.

So that left Spine, Hatch worth, and Zero, heading out into the predawn hours to investigate what might have been a garbled call for help from human friends of the family.

The message on the phone was garbled, and hard to understand. One thing that came through very clearly were screams for help of some kind. It was his city and these were the friends of his family. So Spine was determined to find out what was going on and if in any way possible help these people or put a stop to it. The only problem was he feared it was too late.

They had acted as quickly as possible, organizing into the two parties.

But it had still been a good half an hour since the call and in that time many terrible things could have happened.

by the time they appeared at the cold silent house, it was clear that indeed terrible things had happened.

The front door to the house had been kicked in or knocked in by some kind of force. it hung from its hinges like some dead thing, reminding the world of the life that had fled this house.

The living room was a stark mess, upon investigation. It had been ransacked and ripped to shreds. Furniture upturned, pillows gutted, papers flung to the far corners of the place in a futile search for something.

The rest of the house was in the same kind of shape. Whom ever had done this had been seeking something but due to the seeming chaos and destruction had not found what they sought.

Further into the house the mess continued. More rooms ransacked. More destruction. Even the bathroom had not been spared.

The worst was the master bedroom, where the most horrifying of sights waited for them. The mangled bodies of their friends, spilled onto the floor and left to rot. The message on the wall scrawled in the blood of the innocents that lay before them.

"This is what your fate will be if you hide the monsters..."

Spine stood there gritting his fangs trying to NOT punch a hole straight through the wall at this. That made it clear what the murders had been looking for.

Information him, Information on his family, his baby girls. Information that they could use to come to his house and do this very thing to everyone he had ever loved. To this day he never understood why.

He had been trying to make peace. The love his life had been a former monster "slayer." He had the most precious lil proof in the universe that humans and "monsters" did not have to be enemies. Living breathing proof that all of this hatred was utter nonsense. Yet still it persisted. Still these people hated Him and those like him, simply for not being human.

Spine was so angry that he missed the sound that Hatchworth heard instantly.

"SHHH..." The drider told them, "Did either of you hear that?"

The Silver Lord and Giant Zero stopped, held perfectly still and listened again. This time they heard it. A small soft sound of discomfort, coming from one of the other rooms in the house.

"someone's still alive," zero said.

Moments later all of them were heading in the direction of the sounds. It was even further into the back of the house and had been spared some of the destruction of the rest of it. Indeed the people that committed this crime must have believed there was nothing to see here. in what must have been, from the size of the tiny bed in the corner, a child's room or nursery.

All of them were looking around when they heard it. The soft sad sound from the corner of the room. All of them headed cautiously over and found something.

Bunched into the corner of the room was a large silk shawl. Spine remembered it. It had been a gift to this family from Hatchworth himself, made of his own refined silk. ( there are people that make things from refined spider silk.. hatchworths is a beautiful golden color) A wedding present when the couple married years ago. Now it concealed something precious.

Hatchworth pulled the shawl away and saw the blue eyes and golden curls, the same color as the silk, of a beautiful baby boy. The child couldn't have been more than a year old and sniffed softly, so scared, and so alone. Looked up and held out his arms to Hatchworth.

"oh my god," Hatchworth curled his legs under him and pulled the lil boy into his arms, "The baby. He's ok!"

Spine's mouth dropped open, the parents had given their lives and used their last phone call to get a message to him and his family. So they could come and save this little boy.

Spine's face fell, "Hatchworth we can't...."

That earned him a glare from his younger brother, "I'm sorry which one of us married a vampire slayer?"

Spine looked away for a second and swallowed, "That's not what i mean Hatchworth. If you take him to the manor with us it might frighten him. I have no compunctions about you helping or keeping him. I just don't want the lil guy harmed. "

Hatchworth looked embarrassed, "Sorry Bro. That was mean. I do follow tho. But he has no one else Spine, We'll have to just teach him that there isn't anything to be afraid of. Maybe his parents have already been trying. They were family friends."

Spine nodded, "That's all we can do."

He stopped and looked out the door, "Let's get back, It's going to be light soon and we have a lot of things to do."

Zero nodded, "Do you think the girls and Dex will be ok with this?"

Hatchworth shook his head, "I don't know. "

Spine sighed, "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But we have to get this lil specter home before we know anything."

Hatchworth blinked, "Specter?"

Spine smiled, "He was so good at staying hidden... it reminded me of one."

Hatchworth finally smiled back, "I think that will work Spine. I think that will work just fine. "

Spine had Hatchworth get into the car with the child to keep him as safe as possible. Between him and zero they dumped gas onto the house and watched, saying a prayer for the family, as the house was consumed by flames. All of the brutality wiped clean by fire.

In the car the sleeping lil boy opened his eyes and looked up into hatchworths face.

"pappa?" He said softly.

As spine and zero got into the car to head back to the manor, The drider hugged his new lil son close.

"Now and forever lil one."

#SPG #Monster Verse AU #Spine #Hatchworth #zero #rabbit #jon #upgrade #spg-fanbot-cousins #Specter #dex #sprocket #Pearl #Everyone is a monster in this

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articlesbyjimmycruze · 5 years

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Tips for a Safe and Trouble Free Motorcycle Camping Trip

Nothing beats motorcycle riding and camping, they’re simply the best match together. Motorcycle riding is utterly fun and camping takes this fun into the next level! When hotels and motels are becoming too crowded and costly, nowadays, motorcycle camping is the best way to escape from the hustle and bustle of the city life quickly. The outdoor adventure, breath of fresh air and the thrill of traversing an unfamiliar place are just few things that makes it such an exciting endeavor. But, before you go ahead and jump on your motorcycle for an adventure this weekend, here are some practical tips so you can make the most out of your motorcycle camping adventure:

1. Make sure your motorcycle is properly maintained and in good condition. Before you hit the road, make sure that your motorbike is ready and in good condition. Check the tire pressures and tread depth, brake and clutch fluids, oil, ignition system and make sure the sprockets and chains are properly lubricated. This helps ensure your safety on the road and you’ll have a trouble-free ride to your destination. The last thing you would want to happen is to find yourself in an unfamiliar place, because your ride gave up on you.

2. Invest in quality motorcycle camping gear. To make the most out of your outdoor camping adventure, don’t skimp on quality camping gear. Invest in top caliber tent that’s comfortable and will provide you protection from the elements and at the same time isn’t bulky to carry around. Don’t forget a good sleeping bag too. Even when you are outdoors communing with nature, remember that comfort is still king.

3. Pack as light as you can. When going on a motorcycle camping trip, it is important to pack as light as you can and only bring the essential stuff. Choose lightweight motorcycle camping gear and tools and gadgets that won’t take up much space to make your ride as comfortable as possible. Create a list of the essential things you need to bring such as your clothing, basic toiletries, torches, pocket knife, first-aid kit, cooking utensils among others.

4. Make sure your load is secure and keep it as low as possible. This will greatly aid in safety and handling of your motorcycle while you are riding. It can also reduce braking distance and increase fuel mileage by reducing weight transfer and wind resistance. Use cam buckle tie downs instead of bungee cords to secure your load. They are stronger and don't stretch under the load of braking or turning so they won't come loose or fail. Just be sure to cut off the extra strap length or secure it tightly to avoid a safety hazard.

5. Don’t forget the bug spray. Don’t let the bugs ruin your moment as you enjoy stargazing in the tranquil night from your tent, bring mosquito repellent with you.

6. Pack the appropriate clothing for the climate and weather. Most importantly, you need to wear the right clothing and safety gear as you hit the road – helmet, long pants, gloves and motorcycle jacket and shoes. When packing your clothing consider the temperature and the weather. Ideally, you should check the weather forecast ahead of time so you can choose the appropriate clothing to pack.

7. Choose your campsite carefully. See to it that you choose a good campsite on a higher ground which is flat, free from ant hills and creepy grasses and overall the most comfortable ground you can find.

8. Know the basics of camping and outdoor cooking. Nothing makes a motorcycle camping experience more trouble-free than making sure you are always prepared. Knowing the basics of outdoor cooking is a good start for your outdoor adventure survival. Plan recipes you can cook outdoor that only require minimal preparation and least amount of cookware.

Whether you are an experienced motorcycle camper or if it's your first time, following these simple rules will go a long way to helping you achieve a fun and trouble-free motorcycle camping adventure!

Jimmy Cruze is a Motorcycle Camping enthusiast and hobby mechanic who loves sharing his passion for the great outdoors and helps to operate a website specializing in Motorcycle Camping Gear. Browse their fantastic selection now!

#motorcycle camping gear #motorcycle camping tips motorcycle camping

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michaelmalloryfanfic-blog · 5 years

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fic update: o thou, destroyer named - chapter v

they are like two wounded animals, circling one another, waiting to see who will strike first

. millory au .

post links:

chapter i // chapter ii // chapter iii // chapter iv // chapter v // chapter vi // chapter vii // chapter viii // chapter ix //

ao3 links:

chapter i // chapter ii // chapter iii // chapter iv // chapter v // chapter vi // chapter vii // chapter viii // chapter ix //

chapter summary:

Time to call Zaddy Zatan! Also I know I said Mead would be in this chapter but it was taking too long to get through this part. Next time. It's short but I promise, it felt like fucking dying trying to write this part.

a/n:

guess which bitch knows how to use google translate! fun times. anyway latin is fucked. this ain't beta'd and super short but I had to finish grad school apps. I'll get around to beta-ing this chapter eventually. Aaaaaaallllsooooooooo. So I know that in the show, Michael calls his zaddy on the phone like...right after his interview with Mallory but just pretend that its happening now. You know I’m a dumbass who can’t remember shit right? You think I give a fuck????Also. I’ve finally got an end to this fic and lemme tell you, I can’t wait to emotionally ruin someone’s day.

With a soft tug of the hand he has in his grasp, Mallory rises to her feet. Even in her black, sensible heels she barely reaches his shoulders when standing. Her hand in his own is completely encompassed. She is such a tiny thing. He tucks her hand into the crook of his arm with a careful tenderness that she thought him incapable of. It is as though he was handling a porcelain doll.

Michael had always been fascinated with dolls. Once, when he was still small and able to be manhandled, Constance had taken him to a toy store and he had instantly gravitated towards the brightly colored figures. Their tiny smiling faces matched with their impassive, lifeless eyes, they felt somehow familiar. But it was their smallness that had enraptured him, how easily they fit in his hand. He wanted to touch every part of them, run his fingers over their smooth, blushed cheeks, feel the sleekness of their artificial hair. Something that would hold still and let him pour over it, let him devour it.

But Constance would have none of that. She had shaken the precious thing from his greedy hands. When he resisted she had delivered a swift, teeth-clattering slap to his face. It had shocked him so thoroughly that he did not even cry out. Constance espoused something about him being “goddamned queer” then she had yanked him out of the store.

They enter the darkness of Outpost 3 and Michael takes the lead. The ink blackness of the hallways are an ocean and Michael is a shark. He moves without hesitation, Mallory tries to keep up. Once or twice, she trips over her feet. Ever the part-time gentleman, Michael pauses whens he stumbles and waits patiently for her to gather herself. Everytime, she glances up at his apologetically but he never returns her glance. He is focused on the journey forward.

It takes them five more minutes of walking before a faint glow comes into view illuminating the end of the hall where it turns both left and right. The light comes from the right and when they turn the corner a door comes into view. The door they come to is like many of the doors in Outpost 3, tall, pitch black, with shiny golden door knobs. On both sides, a candle with in a simple glass fixture around it had been lit. Mallory has passed doors like these many times in the past year without much notice but this door, she is certain she’s never seen this particular door for above it there are words, carved ominously into the stone wall and painted in black.

Homo homini lupus

Mallory reads over the words over and over. The Boundary in her head burns and grows brittle at the sight so she turns away from the words above the door. It is Michael who disentangles their arms. He takes her hand in his own, again so gentle it turns her stomach and places it at her side. Then he opens the door.

The first thing that Mallory notices when they enter the room is the heat. The door leads into a short, narrow anteroom and from there it opens into a blazing circular chamber. The room is crowded with candles. They line the walls, are placed here and there on the floor along the perimeter. Besides that, the room was empty. It is so bright and warm beyond the door that it is almost unbearable at first. Mallory has only known darkness and cold for over a year now and all this heat and light makes her feel feverish. Her skin crawls and she hesitates to enter. Langdon enters at once with ease. He has no fear of the light. Michael glances back only once to smile that secret smile at her.

“So skittish of the light, Mallory darling,” he says over his shoulder. “Come here, you fickle creature. Come to me.”

And she goes to him. Not just because he calls her a creature or darling but also because she is suddenly aware of how cold she is. She feels so utterly cold and not just now or during the year she’s spent in Outpost 3. She’s been cold her entire life. Mallory isn’t stupid she knows that there is something missing in her. She thinks that something must have been taken from her and left her a Mallory is like a wind-up toy that was built missing a sprocket and though she can still walk around, sing her tune, the bulbs all light up but something just doesn’t click.

Harmatia, whispers the thing in her mind and Mallory pushes it down.

She passes through the doorway, the Latin words passing overhead. She makes quick work of the antechamber and to her surprise, she finds Langdon undressing. He stands in the center of the room with his back to her. First is his long, black coat. As he works the fine dark buttons, he speaks.

“Did you know that years before the initial bombfall, this place used to be a boy’s boarding school,” he says still facing away from her.

He observes the room as he finishes with his buttons. The chamber is about ten feet in diameter and it has a ceiling so high that it is lost in darkness even with all the light down below.

“The rooms you’ve been sleeping in, the kitchen, the lounges, they all used to be part of the school.”

“Is it normal to have a school underground?” Mallory drones, years of working for the young, rich, and vapid has made her adept at meaningless small-talk.

“Don’t ask stupid questions. You know it isn’t.”

He shrugs off his coat and it falls to the floor.

“What kind of school was it?” she replies, unperturbed by his admonishment.

She stares at his coat on the floor, crumpled and dejected. Years working as a personal assistant to wealthy socialites has given her a discerning eye. It’s obviously an expensive piece, well-made, expensive cotton but he tosses it off as though it is nothing. Mallory considers picking it up, folding it neatly over her arm and waiting patiently aside for him to continue. It’s a compulsion. Coco had been a thoughtless, messy individual but she also hated mess. She’d undress in a hurry, tossing designer and couture pieces about only to turn around and vehemently ask Mallory why her John Galliano gown was on the floor. However, Langdon gives no indication that he expects to pick up his coat or anything else.

“A finishing school of sorts,” he says as he starts on his shirt, the cuffs, which is as fine and dark as his coat. “It was very exclusive, clandestine .”

“A big, black cylinder sticking out of the ground in bumbfuck California reads as clandestine to you?”

That causes him pause and he twists his upper body just a bit to look at her fully. His mouth is a pressed, straight line and he arches one eyebrow. For a second, she thinks he’s going to admonish her again maybe even hit her. Towards the end, the Purples had become less squeamish about physical displays of displeasure. She had seen, more than once, a Grey laid out on the floor by a Purple. End of the world will do that to people. But, he is impassive only for a second then a wicked grin splits his mouth and he laughs.

“It isn’t exactly subtle is it?” he says once he done laughing at her. “But then again, I wasn’t consulted when they were drawing up the blueprints.”

Mallory is a little taken aback. For some reason, laughing just didn’t seem to be something he was even capable of doing. Her surprise must show on her face because he laughs a little harder after seeing her. He seems younger than the gruesome figure who had first arrived in Outpost 3 a few days ago. When he had first arrived, he had been singular. A grim emissary, Death riding in on his horse. But now she is watching as his eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles at her. He looks like a boy. How old is he really? Early twenties, maybe mid. They could be the same age.

“Do you know what this particular room was used for?” He doesn’t wait for her answer. “Disciplinary action.”

He shoulders his left sleeve off and then the right. This too is dropped to the floor besides the coat.

“You saw the plaque above the door? Do you know what it means? I don’t imagine they offer high school level Latin in Nowhere. Homo homini lupus, Man is a wolf to man.”

From his pocket, he produces a knife. It fits perfectly in his hand and he opens it slowly. The blade is strange, rounded and black. Its finish is matte, like charcoal in the candlelight.

“Man is a wolf to man,” he repeats and turns to face her, knife in his right hand.

This is the point that anyone with an ounce of self preservation should know to make a run for it.

“A fancy way to say, ‘dog eat dog’.”

He’s still smiling when he plunges the knife into his left wrist and Mallory’s jaw drops. He drags the blade up until a red line splits his arm all the way up his bicep. Then the blood begins the pour from the gash. It’s so red and bright against his golden skin. It falls like water, so quickly that she thinks that this cannot be real, this cannot be right. He hardly seems to notice and gives the other arm the same treatment.

This fucked up. Mallory knows this. This. Is. Fucked. And she should be horrified. She should scream or run, do something other than gape at the sight of him, arm bathed almost entirely in red and dripping, his eyes like alight with a kind of frantic energy. And yet, she doesn’t feel or do any of these things. Her breathing is labored and her heart rate has picked up and yet, she feels somewhat at east. Something about all that blood, she’s drowning in it. She’s not anywhere near afraid. No, she's fascinated.

He begins to speak.

“O pater foedus impius, Et meas, quas fudi sanguinem meum, in gloriam.”

The air thickens as he falls to his knees.

“Corpus iacentis ad pedes.”

Spreading his arms out wide, palms to the floor, he begins to bow. His head dipping low.

“Mea est anima tua.”

With that, he is completely folded in on himself. His arms are stretched out in front of him, bloody palms laying flat against the stone floor. Though not especially muscular, Langdon is certainly on the taller side. His shoulders are wide. He cuts an imposing figure but now he is laid out before her. It is strange to see such a large man made to seem so small and humbled.

Silence falls and Mallory is vaguely aware that perhaps Langdon may be in trouble. His body is still, blood still seeping out of him. It drips onto the floor. The human body can only lose so much blood before it’s K.O. She knows she should do something. Pressure on the wound. Elevate the limbs. But then, something rumbles through the room, not a sound, not even a physical feeling. It is something in the soul and growls. Her stomach drops. He begins to speak again but this time is different. His voice is harsh, nearly cracking. He is impassioned.

“Audi me, Pater. Audi fili tuorum fidelium. Quaerite me sapientia tua et ductu peregit opus in hac hora mea. Invoco te. Invoco te.”

The air seems to go still. What was once a room crackling with energy, is suddenly drained.

“Invoco te,” he demands.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, all the flames of the candles flare. They climb up to nearly a foot tall then roll back down. His head snaps up, eyes completely dark. She gasps. His mouth drops open as if he is stunned as well. He is seeing something beyond her.

“Father?” he says like a child.

The flames flare once more, higher than before and Mallory shields her face from the heat. A gust of wind rushes past her and then she is floating in darkness.

“Langdon?”

Nothing. Every candle has been extinguished and she had been plunged into pitch darkness. Her first instinct is to turn back towards the antechamber. If she can make it to the door, there should still be light outside. She turns and reaches out, trying to find a wall, the door, anything but her hands find nothing. She steps forward and slips. She hits the floor hard and cries out. A warm, metallic taste blooms in her mouth. Her tongue teeth ache. The floor is wet, sticky beneath her hand. She knows what it is. The smell hits her and the taste is in her mouth. Mallory closes her eyes and tries to concentrate. She remembers the candles on the wall, the candles on the floor. In her mind, she reaches out.

Please. Please.

Invoco te, whispers the thing in her head and she feels warmth seep into her.

Not from the blood. The blood has gone cold at this point, congealing beneath her hands and knees. It’s something else. Like the sun, like a fire. It is blooming in her chest like someone has breathed hotly between her breasts.

“Invoco te,” she whispers and opens her eyes to light.

Not blazing and bright like before, only a few candles have been lit but it’s enough to see the outline of the door in front of her. It is enough to see the blood on the floor. She crawls forward a little ways, she’s halfway through the antechamber when she looks back.

She could leave him. He is laid out on his side, facing away from her, completely still. There’s not much hope left for him. He’s close to being, if not already, bled out. He’s a lost cause. There’s no point.

Leave him. Let him die. Homo homini lupus.

But Mallory is no wolf. She is thinking of his eyes and how they crinkle at the sides. She is thinking of his mouth and how it smiles crooked. Of his laugh. Of his perfect face that is so boyish when unburdened by whatever grand role he is playing. She thinks of the way he said father.

Mallory slips and stumbles to her knees. She tries to stand but she quickly Her hands are covered in dark blood. Her knees and shins are even worse but she crawls forward.

“Langdon,” she hisses at him. “You have to get up.”

From where she’s standing, Mallory can’t tell if he’s still breathing.

“Michael?”

Her arms and legs wobble as she crawls forward. The potential that he’s dead is becoming more and more likely. The floor is slick beneath her but she continues forward. He’s less than a foot in front and she can see him clearly even in the dim light. His chest rises and falls and Mallory’s breath catches in her throat. Then it happens again and she bursts forward.

“Michael, can you hear me,” she takes his shoulders in her hand and after some effort turns him over into her lap. “We have to put pressu-”

The wounds are gone. There’s no trace of the long gashes he’d inflicted on himself other than the blood. The blood, it’s everywhere. On her dress, across his chest. His head is in her lap, somehow his hair, even coated in blood, is beautiful. The gold in it still shines true. They are a dark red pieta.

“Did you see?” he whispers.

Mallory is still dumbfounded that she missed his question. His hand on her arm is what shakes her out of her stupor. He is gazing up at her now. His eyes are back to their normal blue, so clear. He lifts his hand from her arm to ghost his fingers over her face streaking her red. Mallory balks. The bitter smell of blood fills her nose and turns her stomach.

“Did you see him, Mallory? My father?”

He sounds like a fevered child and even more so when he laughs at the sight of her face.

“It looks like you’re crying, tears of blood,” he murmurs as his eyes begin to flutter. “Don’t cry, Mallory.”

He sighs and his eyes roll back into his head.

“Help,” she whispers though her voice barely carries.

“Someone please help us.”

Aaaaaaand. yarp. It's fanfic writing month! so I'm gonna try to bust out as many chapters as possible for you guys. My goal is an update a week (not including this chapter). So drop me a line. I know I seem glib but honestly, your comments are the only thing keeping me going so lemme know yall are out there, yeah?

Next time:

Mead gets her say.

#mallory x michael #michael x mallory #michael langdon #millory fanfic #otdn

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redrockbluerock · 6 years

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More Skylanders doodles! Im using the Colour Scheme the Golden Queen has after doing her Villain quest- I like the idea of her having silvery hair.

as per usual i’m going to type out some headcanons i have with the characters bc i have too many.

Barbella-

1. She’s some sort of Traptanium golem. She’s capable of damaging Traps and the Trap Master’s weapons, but conversely isn’t damaged by them.

2. Very little is known about her past besides her gym ownership. She won’t give any information about herself easily.

3. While she isn’t openly hostile towards the Gulper, she tends to get eerily... cheerful around him. Don’t leave them alone together.

4. She’s the least impulsive earth skylander. Which doesn’t say much.

5. Barbella is capable of some of the ‘Feats of Strength’ that the giants are capable of.

Sprocket-

1. She has adhd/autism and her special interest is (obviously) tech! I kinda got these vibes from reading the books and since i have adhd, I kinda just went like I DO THAT!

2. Does not sleep much. is mostly running on coffee and whatever someone forces her to eat.

3. she can sort of see/manipulate the levels of minerals in objects, and uses this to get the metal for her inventions.

4. Her hands just sort of generate gunpowder. it started happening after an accident in her childhood. She wears gloves all the time to not have it trail everywhere.

Golden Queen

1. She’s the same species as Sprocket, therefore having similar mineral manipulation abilities. She just prefers to specialize in Gold.

2. She has a rose gold stripe on her chin. its not just makeup

3. im not fully sure if this counts as a HC but i use Austrine as a legal name for her

4. She dyes her hair gold. With straight up gold. you know.

a lot of my GQ/ Sprocket headcanons are species ones and therefore somewhat mutual so i might just do an overview of what i think goldings are like in the future?

#skylanders

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fireandgloryrpg · 7 years

Photo

Name: Albert Eccles

Age: 22

Faceclaim: Timothee Chalamet

Heritage: Son of Vulcan

Affiliation: Citizen of New Rome

Status: Retired (previously played by Ari)

Headcanons:

Has a tendency to write notes to himself up and down his arms. These can be anything from weapon specifications, to reminders of what to buy at the store, to homework assignments. It isn’t uncommon to see him with an arm covered in his tiny scrawl

Is the worst possible person when it comes to sleeping through his alarms. Now that he’s living alone instead of in the barracks he doesn’t have the benefit of other people waking up around him and so has to set five or six alarms in the morning just to be sure he makes it to class on time.

Biography:

Some people are hard pressed to remember the first thing the ever smelled, but if you asked Albie Eclles the answer would come to him almost immediately; white hot metal. His mother, keeping with the eclectic style of Portland, had a blacksmith forge that specialized in bespoke wrought iron work for people who felt that their fences or houses needed an extra sort of oomph and as a single mother, brought the newborn Albert to work with her frequently. Of course as soon as he was old enough to see that his family wasn’t exactly like everyone else’s he asked his mother what had happened to his father.

“Well darling… it’s just his way. He came, he taught me a lot about being a blacksmith and a little about being a mom, and then he moved on. We never thought we’d have forever, but he gave me you and that’s enough for me.”

For the first twelve years of his life, that answer had served him well enough. His mother taught him how to work the forge as soon as he could stand on a milk crate and he ran home from school every day to do his homework and then stand by her side, absorbing as much as he could and quickly proving deft at his own small projects. (The neighbors were curious as to why the family dog had a breastplate of intricately wrought chainmail but they all quickly laughed it off as childhood fancy)

Life was disrupted somewhat shortly before his twelfth birthday when he rode his bike home from school to see his mother and a strange, almost-disfigured man sitting somberly at the kitchen table. It didn’t take him long to figure out exactly who the new stranger was.

“He’s got your eyes, Ana, but all that black hair… oof… you get that from me, boy.”

Family history had come home to roost, and over several cups of tea and a hastily thrown together dinner of macaroni and cheese his patrimony, and the power that lurked inside of him was piece by piece revealed, along with the strange new direction his life was going to take. His father, who he was still coming to terms with thinking of as a god, told him of a camp and a city where people like him trained and lived in peace.

“It’ll be a grand adventure, Sprocket.” His mother had whispered, ruffling his shaggy hair as she’d helped him pack a bag for the bus ride down to California. “You have talents you’ve yet to tap into and the Legion will help you with that. You’ll be a warrior, and an artisan, and you’ll finally be both your father and me combined.” She tucked her favorite hammer into his bag, kissed him on the top of his head, and packed him off to meet the wolf who would either usher him to safety in New Rome or devour him if he failed her challenges.

Years past and Albie found his place at Camp Jupiter, rising through the ranks of popularity to be made Centurion of the 3rd Cohort. But now that his ten years of service are up and he’s moved to the realm of private citizen he’s struggling somewhat to find his footing. Full time school and work in the Forges still keep him busy; but in this time of political instability in New Rome it makes the fact that he doesn’t quite know who he is all the more apparent.

#albert eccles #retired

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agwitow · 7 years

Text

Writing Prompt: Fantasy, a famous musician, fearless to the point of stupidity

Petla was always small. People sometimes mistook him for a halfling, rather than a gnome because of it. Even then, there were halflings who were bigger than him. He never wondered why he was so small (though he often heard his father lament that they must have done something wrong), nor did he particularly care.

Sure, it was a bit more work to use the machines at the foundry. And true, even the specially bred riding dogs were too big for him to ride. And yes, it was hard to keep up when everyone’s legs were longer. But Petla never let any of that slow him down.

Like any good member of the Skiflaugd family, Petla learned how to be an inventor. It wasn’t his passion, but he was a clever young boy. It was simple enough to make the pedals and levers longer, and not that much more complicated to build a small chariot for the dogs to pull.

The one thing that Petla was never able to do on his own, was play an instrument. Oh, he loved music, and he tried to learn, but there were no instruments small enough for him. He was no luthier. And though he was able to make automatons that could play the instruments, he was never quite able to create a device that would allow him to play.

“You could commission a lute made just for you,” Ravak, his wife suggested one night, after his latest attempt to be able to play had snapped the neck of the lute.

“I would have to travel all the way to Ulah. That’s a ten-day journey!”

“We can spare you for the twenty days,” Ravak assured him.

Petla shook his head. “It wouldn’t just be twenty days, my love. I would have to stay for at least a few so the luthier could make measurements. And then would I make the journey again when the lute is finished? Or should I wait in the city for however long it takes?”

“But music is your passion...”

“Passion doesn’t put food on the table.”

And so Petla gave up hope of ever playing an instrument himself. But Ravak knew how much it meant to her husband. So she sent letters to Ulah, inquiring of several luthiers if they might tell her what sort of measurements they might need to make a lute for Petla.

After two months, three letters came back.

One declared that it would be impossible to make a lute any smaller without horribly distorting the sound. Another said that they could not do it without seeing Petla. The third said they were unsure if written measurements would work--could they send a model of some sort?

Ravak scrimped and saved, and never mentioned her plan to Petla. She would work all day at the foundry, then work on mending until it was time to sleep. Petla encouraged her to cut back on something--she was wearing herself out. They had made enough money at the foundry--they didn’t need her to work extra jobs.

Ravak just shrugged and said there could be something they’d need the money for.

Petla thought it strange, but he started making small machines and selling them so that whatever it was Ravak was saving for, she’d have enough money sooner.

The little devices were quite popular. Music boxes with dancing figures, counter-top clocks that could be set to chime a reminder, mailboxes that would carry the mail from the front of the house to somewhere inside, and even dolls that could say a phrase or two.

Soon Petla wasn’t just making the devices and selling them to whomever was interested; he was getting orders for specific things.

In three months, Petla had enough orders, and was making enough money that he didn’t have to work at the foundry any more. Two months after that, it was more profitable for Ravak to stay home and help.

Petla became so caught up in his little devices that Ravak wondered if she should still get a model made of him to send to the luthier in Ulah.

“Are you happy, my dear?” she asked him one night. They were both exhausted from a long day spent hunched over tiny gears and sprockets and springs. Petla had missed a spot of grease on his cheek, but Ravak was too tired to bother mentioning it.

“Of course I am; why do you ask?”

“I know this isn’t what you’d envisioned your life being like.”

“Ah, my love, it is every Skiflaugd’s dream to be a tinkerer...a craftsmen that people clamour to posses the devices of. I never imagined I might be one, but then I never thought about making things for other people when I was younger.”

Ravak smiled and wished him sweet dreams and thought that perhaps she didn’t need to worry about the model for the luthier. At least until she saw him working on one of his abandoned instrument playing devices.

She firmed her resolve and gathered the money she needed, and paid a seamstress to make a model of Petla. It was difficult to do without him knowing what they were up to, and took several months of secretive work to complete.

Ravak had just shipped the model off to Ulah when Petla announced they would be going to the city themselves.

“What? Why?” Ravak demanded.

Petla grinned and waved a letter in the air. “I have been commissioned by Krisora Lightguard to create a quartet of musical automatons. We are to present them at the opening of the new temple, where they will give their debut performance before being permanently placed adjacent to the altar.”

“That is a grand undertaking--how soon is the new temple opening?” Ravak asked.

“If we leave for Ulah in three months, we will make it to the city with a few days to spare.”

So Petla and Ravak went to work. They restricted how many other orders they would take--just enough so they could keep their home and eat every day. Though Petla had made many automatons before, he wanted these ones to be special.

It was hard work, but they were able to build the automatons. The four metal humanoids perched on stools, their limbs made of delicate-looking lacework metal, and their bodies swathed in silk robes. Their bald heads were polished to a rich shine, and glittering gems served as their eyes.

“They are beautiful,” Ravak said.

“Yes, but now the truly hard part begins--we must teach them the songs they are to play.”

Each automaton could have a wax cylinder with bumps and grooves on it placed into a slot in their backs. The pattern on the cylinders determined how each one would move. And carving the cylinders so that each automaton not only played correctly, but in time with each other, was a time-consuming process of trial and error.

They had gotten three of the four to play together by the time they had to leave. The automatons were carefully loaded into a covered wagon, and they set out with a six-wagon caravan for the city of Ulah. Every day, Petla would carve a cylinder and every night he would test the automatons. It wasn’t until the final night that he was able to have them play in sync.

“I will be remembered as the greatest inventor for this,” he said with a tired smile as he placed the cylinders into a velvet-lined box.

“It is an impressive accomplishment,” Ravak agreed. “And I’m very proud of you.”

“Ah, my love, I could not have done it without you!”

Ravak laughed. “You could have, you just would have been slower. But I have arranged for a gift for you in Ulah--to give to you the morning of the temple opening.”

“A gift? You didn’t need to get me anything,” Petla exclaimed.

“You deserve it, after all your hard work.”

Petla and Ravak rested easily that night. In the morning, they finished the journey to the city and took the automatons to the new temple. Krisora Lightguard herself met them in the plaza outside the temple. She was instantly recognizable by the burn scar covering half her face and neck. Rumour said a full half of her body was covered by that scar, but the gold and black armour she always wore kept such speculation as mere gossip.

“Welcome to Ulah, Master Tinkerer. I trust you had no difficulties in your journey?”

“None at all, Lady Lightguard,” Petla replied. “Where would you like them set up?”

“Is there anything special about setting them up?” Krisora asked.

“Not particularly. They are delicate, but they need only be placed where you want them,” he explained.

“Then my page and the temple acolytes can set it up. Go, explore the city. You still have a few hours before the ceremony and unveiling.”

Petla and Ravak didn’t need to be told twice. Ulah was a massive city full of people from all over the world. They saw more races than they could name, and were tempted by foods from places they had never heard of. It was enough to make Petla truly feel small.

Ravak quietly asked a food vendor for directions and then guided their wanderings to the luthier.

“We should go in,” Ravak suggested, pointing to the sign of a lute and hammer swinging over the door.

Petla’s childish glee at sights of the city faded and he shook his head. “Why?”

“You always wanted to come to Ulah and get an instrument made for you,” she replied. “Well, we’re in Ulah.”

“That was a silly dream. Besides, we could only afford this trip because of how much Lady Lightguard is paying for those automatons.”

“Please? Let’s go inside,” Ravak begged.

“Fine, but just for a moment.”

Ravak beamed and took his hand. They entered the simple store front of the luthier’s shop. It was only ten feet wide and five feet deep, though a larger workroom could be glimpsed behind a polished counter. Ravak strained on her tiptoes to tap the bell atop the counter.

“Why would you do that?” Petla hissed.

“So we can speak to the luthier--there are no instruments on display, so if we want to see something, I’m sure we must ask.”

Before Petla could say anything in response to her reasoning, a lanky man with oversized ears and wild hair arrived. His eyes widened and a huge smile split his face. “Petla!” he cried with delight.

“Do...do I know you?” Petla stared at him in shock.

“Ah, what poor manners I have! I am Lamin, and I have wondered when you would come to my shop,” the man said, still smiling. “And this must be your wife, Ravak. You are as lovely as I imagined.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you know?” Lamin asked, his smile slipping.

“It’s a surprise,” Ravak cut in quickly. “Could you bring it out?”

“Ah! Of course.” Lamin hurried back into the workroom. They could hear him moving things around and he called to them, “It was a delight to work on, though I had to use a different wood than normal to preserve the sound. Here it is!”

Lamin returned with a tiny lute cradled in his hands. He handed it over to a wide-eyed Petla and smiled with satisfaction.

Petla stared at the beautiful instrument in his hands. It was made of a dark wood and had been polished until it shone. A careful lacework pattern was carved into the wood, as delicate as the automatons he’d created.

“Ravak...Mr. Lamin...this is beautiful, it’s...” Petla had to stop and rub at his eyes. He’d never imagined he’d actually hold an instrument small enough for him.

“Go on, try it,” Ravak encouraged.

Petla tentatively strummed the strings. His fingers fumbled and he winced at the sour notes, but neither Ravak nor Lamin said anything. They both smiled and he continued to pluck out a tune, becoming more sure of himself with every note.

“You are very good, for having never had a proper instrument before,” Lamin said. “I hope you will think of me if you should ever need another instrument!”

Ravak assured him they would, they bid him farewell, and returned to the temple.

Petla was still in such a daze at receiving the instrument that he didn’t notice the large crowd gathered in the plaza, or the small cluster of young men standing next to the sheet-covered automatons.

“Something is wrong, my dear,” Ravak whispered.

“Hm?”

She pointed to the huddle of men. “They are dressed in temple robes, and seem to be worried about something.”

Petla tsked. “I hope they didn’t break one of my automatons.”

Petla and Ravak pushed through the crowd and approached the men. One spotted them and nudged the others so they all fell silent.

“The ceremony will start soon, you should wait over there,” one of them said, gesturing back toward the crowd.

“I’m Petla, I made the automatons. Is something wrong with them?”

The men exchanged glances and then the one who had spoken before said, “Not with your automatons. It is Lady Lightguard...”

“What’s wrong? We spoke with her only a short time ago and everything seemed fine,” Ravak sadi.

“She...has episodes, from time to time. We try to keep it from the public, but people are going to realize something is wrong if she doesn’t come out soon.”

“Perhaps we can help?” Ravak offered.

“That is kind of you, but Lady Lightguard is dangerous in this state. She cannot recognize friend or enemy, and is bathed in living flames. Anyone who gets too close is burned--and the unlucky ones are burned so badly they do not survive.”

“Let us try anyway,” Petla replied.

“Petla, if they say it isn’t safe, then it isn’t safe,” Ravak whispered.

“I can go myself, if you’d like to stay out here, but I’m going to see if I can help.”

Nothing Ravak or the men said could change his mind, so Petla entered the new temple with only his lute.

“Lady Lightguard?” he called out softly. There was no response, but he saw a flickering light from behind a half-closed door.

Petla walked to the door and pushed it open. Inside, Krisora Lightguard hovered two feet off the ground, a fiery nimbus surrounding her. Her eyes were smoldering coals and the scar on her face pulsed with each flicker of the flame surrounding her. The heat in the room was so intense it stole Petla’s breath away.

Krisora turned toward him, her face utterly blank of emotion. The flames roiled faster and she reached an arm toward him. A spear of fire shot forward and he stumbled back. The flame hit the door and consumed it in a matter of seconds--though the frist didn’t spread, there was nothing but a small pile of ash left behind.

“Lady Lightguard, I do not know what living nightmare you are trapped in, but the people need you,” Petla said, peeking around the corner into the room.

Krisora stared blankly at him. He couldn’t tell if she had heard him, or if she didn’t care.

Petla clutched his lyre and stepped back into the room, strumming the strings. The heat beat at him, but he plucked out the start of a simple song. It was soft and sweet, and one of the prayer-songs of the temple.

Krisora cocked her head to the side and continued to stare at him. But she didn’t fire any more flames toward him. So Petla continued to play.

He played through the song, and then another, and then a third. His fingers were bruised and bloody--he had no callouses from practicing to protect them--but he kept playing.

Krisora’s nimbus of fire shrank and she lowered to the ground. By the end of the fourth song, her flames had gone out entirely. Only her smoldering coals for eyes remained.

Petla tried to play a fifth song, but could only make it a few bars in before having to give up. He wouldn’t be able to even look at a pencil for at least a week.

“Master Tinkerer?”

“Yes! Are you well, Lady Lightguard?”

Krisora pressed a hand to her head and her coal-eyes faded into a normal dark brown. “I believe I had another episode, but how are you unhurt?”

Petla held up his lute. “I played for you. It seemed to calm you.”

“How did you know that would work?”

“I didn’t, I just hoped.”

Krisora laughed in surprise. “You are either a fool, or the bravest man I have ever met.”

Petla grinned. “You have to be fearless when you’re smaller than everyone else.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she agreed with a smile. “Though I don’t think we can call you a master tinkerer any longer. You are a master musician instead.”

And so Krisora introduced Petla as a Master Musician instead of Master Tinkerer when she unveiled the automatons. He placed the cylinders in their places and stood back as the four metal people played the first song he had used to calm Krisora.

Rumours spread about the mysterious little man. How could a musician create such complex automatons? Maybe he hired a wizard to capture his skill and put it into the beings. Perhaps he travelled to another world, where metal beings are alive, and he brought them back to pretend to be automatons. Or maybe he is simply such a talented musician that he was able to teach the constructs how to play music.

The rumours spread and grew with each telling, until they took on a life of their own. Petla, the gnome musician, became Petla, the greatest musician, became Petla, the amazing. Though the stories grew, they always contained that kernel of truth, that he had made the automatons--however he had done so.

And did you hear that he also faced down a dragon with nothing but his lute? Didn’t even get a single burn.

He really is the bravest, most foolish gnome to ever live.

#writing #prompt #short story #original story #fantasy #music #bravery vs stupidity #courage vs recklessness #tumblr-canon #agwitow

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deathbyvalentine · 7 years

Text

Regenesis Drabbles. While containing no major plot spoilers, there may be things within considered FOIP.

First Sight As if struck by thunder, he stopped still. The room had surely been robbed of air, otherwise, why else couldn’t he breathe? He stared at the man in front of him, too far to touch, and found himself unable to move.

He would recognise him anywhere, he knew him by heart. He was a little taller, a lot thinner, more grubby than he remembered him being. He could recall his face as perfectly as the last time he had saw him and there was no uncertainty in his mind that this was his Petrol.

Something within him broke. He was surging forward, not thinking of how this was impossible, of how something was clearly very wrong, simply thinking of the fact Petrol was here in this strange place, with him -

And then there were arms in front of him, Cam blocking his movements, Axle hurrying Petrol out, and something really was wrong because he was screaming Petrol’s name and Petrol wasn’t moving. He wasn’t even glancing in his direction. And there had never been a single time when he had said Petrol’s name and he had not come running. He had never seen him panic, never seen him in pain without trying to fix it. He had never left him with tears on his face without wiping them away first. He had never hurt him.

Valve was taking to him, low and concerned, but the words were nothing but white noise to him. Fresh grief washed over him, hot and poisonous. Every wound he had had, not quite healed, had been ripped open again, and he was bleeding.

This was an acute loneliness, being in a room with the lost part of your soul, and them not even realising they were lost.

Home Territory

Soldier’s Rest was everything he had hoped it to be and more. The sun sparkled in a sky that was brilliantly blue, making the back of his neck hot. Everything was quiet except for the humming that came from the soft wind making the rusted metal sound, kicking up sand coloured dirt and dust AD it went. A thing that was like a cat, but not a cat, entwined itself around his ankles, and rubbed a striped face against his overalls.

He had a limited amount of time here by himself and he intended to make the most of it. He enjoyed being alone, as subversive as that was. It was a chance for him to breathe, to let his smile drop, a chance to be something like himself. Even if he wasn’t quite sure what that was. He slung his gun onto his back, and decided to explore.

He wandered through the towering, broken ships, passing through their shadows intermittently. He waved a hand to some of the people - there weren’t many, and they seemed as absorbed and contemplative as he felt. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel suffocated.

He came to a ship he decided he would call home. It wasn’t the biggest, or the cleanest, but it felt right. He wandered the creaking, mostly powered down decks until he found a room - or was it a closet? With a bed shoved inside it, and a red light illuminating the place. And he curled up on it, as small as he could go, and reached for his whiskey. Here, nobody could make him do anything. He would lie here, and sleep, and drink, until he had to move. He could have that, at least.

Confrontation

The outrage he felt was definitely irrational. Even the implication that he could hurt Petrol had filled him with an anger he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. He was sizing up to Axle, shoulders square, legs set. And perhaps that was because, in some small, frightened corner of his mind, he feared she was right. That he was hurting him. Damaging him just by virtue of the fact he existed around him.

It was that thought that made him reel backwards, made him turn on his heel and leave the tightly packed corridor. He would risk everything for Petrol, but he would not risk hurting him.

“Because fuck you, that’s why!” The cry echoed joyously across the battlefield. The camera crew were ready with the lights, and switched them on behind them. Bit of a bullet magnet admittedly, but damn did it look good on the reels. They stood, Petrol and Diesel. Damn heroes, guns blazing, smiles in place perfectly. Diesel laughed so easily as he slipped from the ruins they were posing on, joining the melee with barely a cautious glance. Petrol followed with an eye roll, but even he couldn’t hide the small smile that played on his lips. They worked best like this, weaving together, coming apart, going back to back to cover more ground with a spray of bullets. It felt like Petrol was an extension of himself, so intuitively they moved.

****************** The affront ground was smaller than a battlefield, but damn, the energy was the same. That first catchphrase, shouted out, the clicking and rumble of the guns. But they were a little out of step, Vector just a moment out of time, not as decisive as he used to be. Or perhaps he was, and he was just even more calculating now. Each small change was jarring, throwing him off his game. He had learnt to fight solo damn it, denied every offer of a new partner, and now, well, it seemed he had gotten one anyway.

Favourites

They weren’t supposed to have favourites. He knew that. But man did he have a protective streak in his heart for Axle. The same as if he had grown up on the same ship as her or something. He had never really considered VolCorp much before meeting her. They were important, sure, as they all were, but they were usually just scattered on a battlefield. They were the workers he never spoke to.

And here she was, fearless but plagued with those screaming memories that he hadn’t been able to talk away. That had shaken him to his core, the mess she had been. Apparently Valve was in the process of keeping her steady, fixing her, but was it really helping? A little part of him decided right there he would fuck up anyone messing with her recovery.

Members of the Combine looked out for each other. And perhaps apparitions could be members too - he wasn’t sure if you were allowed to have favourites outside of the Combine. He should ask Valve. Because Sprocket, well, they had the ability to make a good comrade yet. And saving them wasn’t fucking with them. Technically.

My Heart He’s visiting me, and it’s complicated. It’s a mystery if he even wants to, or if he’s been ordered to. Soon, there would be others here, or I’ll be told to move or some other such bullshit, but right now, for a few blessed hours,

we’re alone.

You’re not meant to want to be alone in the Combine. Strength comes from those around you, the numbers you live within. If you’re solitary, you’re suspect. But sometimes I just wanted the noise to stop, to be able to think my own thoughts, to hear nothing but my own breath and blood.

The music filters through the old radio, warm and familiar. All the broadcasts were recycled One World Radio shows. I suppose they all will be, for now, until we make more in this new world of ours. In the half-light of my room in the belly of a wrecked sky-ship, he looks almost like he used to. His stance is tense, his eyes flickering up to my face every few moments like he’s checking I’m still there, still watching, but never lingering.

I’m not sure if it’s hurting me, I’m not sure if it’s healing me. I’m filled with an indescribable nostalgia for when we used to dance together, me laughing into his shoulder, his smile luminous. I hold out my hand to him, expecting to be rejected. It hands there for a moment, in the air, before he takes it (my heart jumping) and pulls me close to his chest.

We don’t ask who will lead. We fall into old routines so easily, even if he doesn’t remember it. I rest my heart on his chest, our height difference more stark when we’re so close. I can hear his heart, hammering. I squeeze his fingers, and we begin to move slowly to the music. We’re a little clumsy. We’re relearning each other. He’s not quite as bold or easy in his movements, I can’t quite relax my defensive stance.

I want to say so much, the words hot and bitter on my tongue. He isn’t looking at me. So I keep quiet, savour the moment, commit it to memory so I’ll still have it when it all falls apart. I wish it could be like this, always. Us alone, music playing, the calm stillness. This song will soon end though, and we’ll move apart.

Dying He caught a bullet in the ribs, lodging into his lung, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He tumbled into the ankle deep mud, wheezing, struggling furiously to catch his breath, to sit up. Slowly a circle of blood soaked through his jacket, blooming like a poisonous flower. He finally lay back, closing his eyes against the pain that jumped within him like erratic lightening. A tiredness seeped through him, making moving seem vastly unappealing. He imagined, idly, what a good poster this would make.

But then suddenly, hands on him. Familiar ones. Someone cursing at him, calling him an idiot, ripping his jacket off to give a medic access to the wound. Petrol pulled him up to lean against his chest, groaning as Diesel coughed up blood. “Dickhead. That’s what you get for running off without me.” ********************************** The grenade exploded with a brutality he had not experienced in a long while. His ears rang, all else blocked out by the high pitched whine. He staggered a little, and looked down. Huh. A piece of metal stuck out of him at an odd angle, sending sharp, shooting pains up his side. Huh. He went to his knees easily enough. And before he even had time to fall forward, hands caught him. Anonymous medics fussed over him while nearby a radio crew buzzed. There was no comfort, no touch, just the steady, consistent work of the well trained. He didn’t recognise a single one of their voices. He closed his eyes, steady breathing letting him ease the pain, just a little. A small, traitorous part of him wondered would it not be better if he couldn’t be fixed. A glorious martyr, an end to constant war, finally a little peace.

He was hauled to his feet.

Interviews

*Bzzzzz.* *Bzzzzzzzzzz* “You’ve tuned into.... ONE WORLD RADIO. And joining us on this glorious, united day is the man of the hour, Diesel of the End Of The Line! How are you today comrade?” “I’m - I’m fine I guess - “ “That’s the spirit! Of course, the front lines are simply buzzing with the news of your partner’s tragic death. But you see listeners? Diesel has decided to keep fighting in his name! Isn’t that right?” “It’s... Important to remember... What he died for. What he fought for. And... And keep. Keep doing it. Otherwise, um, it’s pointless?” “Strong words! There of course has been rumours of a new team up for you.” “There has?”

“With none other than the ravishing Comrade Belt!” “Fuck me.” “I’m sure most of our listeners would love to! But back to partners - “ “Uh, I’m not quite ready yet. I don’t want to talk about this -” “The listeners want to know -”

“I don’t want another one, alright? I’m done.” *END MUSIC.* *Bzzzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.*

#regenesis #larp #drabbles #prompts #prose

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ntrending · 5 years

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The best Prime Day deals for photographers

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/the-best-prime-day-deals-for-photographers/

The best Prime Day deals for photographers

Amazon Prime Day savings on camera gear and other items you probably want (Adrian via Unsplash/)

Photographers are notorious for lusting after gear and gadgets, which makes an event like Amazon’s annual Prime Day festivities extremely attractive. While there isn’t a ton of hardcore camera gear lurking in the lists of sale items, there are some very useful accessories and on which you can save some cash. Here’s a list of some relevant items you can buy today while leaving some cash in your new lens fund.

Other worthwhile deals

<a href=”https://amzn.to/2lhlyN2″>Datacolor SpyderX Pro – Monitor Calibration Designed for Serious Photographers and Designers SXP100</a>—$136 (was $170)

<a href=”https://www.amazon.com/Kodak-Portable-Instant-Printer-Premium/dp/B06XS1D62L/ref=as_li_ss_tl?keywords=photo&psr=PDAY&qid=1563289869&s=prime-day&sr=1-5&linkCode=ll1&tag=popularscience-20&linkId=8c370a0ed104fe4fcd356f5edf3a2428&language=en_US”>Kodak Dock & Wi-Fi Portable 4×6″ Instant Photo Printer</a>—$100 (was $150)

<a href=”https://www.amazon.com/HP-Sprocket-Portable-X7N07A-Sticky-Backed/dp/B01LBWEMP4/ref=as_li_ss_tl?keywords=photo&psr=PDAY&qid=1563291456&s=prime-day&sr=1-7&linkCode=sl1&tag=popularscience-20&linkId=004aba60d1369e1500d42818de01a6bb&language=en_US”>HP Sprocket Portable Photo Printer</a>—$60 (was $100)

HP 21.5-inch IPS LED monitor (Amazon/)

Ideally, we could all have fancy, reference-grade monitors for editing photos. But, you don’t have to spend a ton of money to get something relatively reliable. This 21.5-inch monitor is just $89 and has IPS tech in the display, which helps maintain more accurate and consistent color than the clapped out screen you’ve been using since college.

120 pack of Fujifilm Instax Mini Instant Film (Amazon/)

Instant film photography is undeniably fun, but buying endless refill packs to feed your camera is not. This monster lot of Instax Mini film is enough for 120 pictures for $79, but you’ll get another 10 percent off during Prime Day. It’s great for a wedding, event, or taking 120 photos of your cat while it’s sleeping, then pinning them all onto your wall in a makeshift shrine to scare people who come over to your house.

SanDisk Extreme memory cards (Amazon/)

You can never have too many memory cards and, during Prime Day, Sandisk’s Extreme cards are as cheap as we’ve seen them. The 128 GB cards are just $24, and the 64 GB cards (my favorite capacity) are only $14. Buy some extras and stick them in every bag you own so you’ll never be stuck in the embarrassing situation of bringing your camera but forgetting your card.

SanDisk 1TB Extreme Portable External SSD (Amazon/)

If you’re constantly shuffling photo files onto and off of your hard drive, a portable SSD like this one from Sandisk will make your life a lot easier. The solid-state drive inside is fast enough that you can edit right off the device itself. Then, when you’re done working on a session, transfer it over to your main backup drives. The Extreme SSD weighs just 1.44 ounces and can easily fit in a pocket. It connects via USB-C to your computer and its rugged enough to withstand water, dust, and even drops to concrete. The 1 TB version is seriously on sale for just $135 (down from $349), but you can step down to the 500 GB model for $89.

Sous Vide machines (Amazon/)

Right now is a fantastic time to shoot film, with new stocks popping up and a growing community of analog shooters sharing work online. Getting film processed, however, can be time-consuming and really expensive. Fortunately, it’s easy to do it yourself. The biggest challenge is controlling the temperature of your chemicals during the process, but a sous vide machine simplifies that, too. This immersion heater is meant to perfectly cook steaks, but you can use it to create a warm water bath to keep your developer and fix just the right temp. The sleek Anova is just $99 and Instant Pot model is even cheaper (though less powerful) at $54.

Backup hard drives (Amazon/)

Hard drives aren’t exciting to buy, but they’re essential if you don’t want your digital photo archive to vanish into the aether after a crash. There are a couple of hard drive options on sale during Prime Day that makes sense for a heavy shooter. Seagate has an 8 TB hard drive that’s just $119. If your collection isn’t quite that big, you can opt for something smaller and even cheaper like the WD 6TB Elements desktop drive, which gets you 6 TB for $89. Neither option is screaming fast, but they’re great for regular backups. Get a pair of them and have a backup to the backup.

Written By By Pop Photo Staff

#Animals

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mealha · 5 years

Text

The best Prime Day deals for photographers

Amazon Prime Day savings on camera gear and other items you probably want (Adrian via Unsplash/)

Photographers are notorious for lusting after gear and gadgets, which makes an event like Amazon’s annual Prime Day festivities extremely attractive. While there isn’t a ton of hardcore camera gear lurking in the lists of sale items, there are some very useful photography accessories on which you can save some cash. Here’s a list of some relevant items you can buy today while leaving some cash in your new lens fund.

Other worthwhile deals

<a href="https://amzn.to/2lJydIL">Datacolor SpyderX Pro – Monitor Calibration Designed for Serious Photographers and Designers SXP100</a>—$136 (was $170)

<a href="https://amzn.to/2kbeLEl">Kodak Dock & Wi-Fi Portable 4x6" Instant Photo Printer</a>—$100 (was $150)

<a href="https://ift.tt/2k6l10g Sprocket Portable Photo Printer</a>—$60 (was $100)

HP 21.5-inch IPS LED monitor (Amazon/)

120 pack of Fujifilm Instax Mini Instant Film (Amazon/)

SanDisk Extreme memory cards (Amazon/)

You can never have too many memory cards and, during Prime Day, Sandisk's Extreme cards are as cheap as we've seen them. The 128 GB cards are just $24, and the 64 GB cards (my favorite capacity) are only $14. Buy some extras and stick them in every bag you own so you'll never be stuck in the embarrassing situation of bringing your camera but forgetting your card.

SanDisk 1TB Extreme Portable External SSD (Amazon/)

Sous Vide machines (Amazon/)

Sous Vide machines Right now is a fantastic time to shoot film, with new stocks popping up and a growing community of analog shooters sharing work online. Getting film processed, however, can be time-consuming and really expensive. Fortunately, it's easy to do it yourself. The biggest challenge is controlling the temperature of your chemicals during the process, but a sous vide machine simplifies that, too. This immersion heater is meant to perfectly cook steaks, but you can use it to create a warm water bath to keep your developer and fix just the right temp. The sleek Anova is just $99 and Instant Pot model is even cheaper (though less powerful) at $54.

Backup hard drives (Amazon/)

Hard drives aren't exciting to buy, but they're essential if you don't want your digital photo archive to vanish into the aether after a crash. There are a couple of hard drive options on sale during Prime Day that makes sense for a heavy shooter. Seagate has an 8 TB hard drive that's just $119. If your collection isn't quite that big, you can opt for something smaller and even cheaper like the WD 6TB Elements desktop drive, which gets you 6 TB for $89. Neither option is screaming fast, but they're great for regular backups. Get a pair of them and have a backup to the backup.

from Popular Photography | RSS https://ift.tt/2k3zs5b

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aaronsniderus · 5 years

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2018 Holiday Gift Guide for Men

Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links, which means we receive a commission if you click a link and purchase something that we have recommended. Please check out our disclosure policy for more details.

I don’t know if this is true for men in general or just the men in my life, but guys are hard to shop for. I can’t just buy them something cute. Sure, they’d be gracious and say thank you, but in reality, they have specific interests and hobbies and want specific things.

Plus, if the men I know really want something, they won’t wait for Christmas to get it. What do you buy for the guy who seemingly has everything?

We found gifts for seven different kinds of men, at different price points, to fit any budget.

The Outdoorsman

If you know a guy who would rather be outdoors hiking, camping or running the trails than spending time indoors, these gifts are perfect! We’ve got practical gifts – like a solar-charged battery pack – as well as surprises like an adventure experience, including skydiving, snorkeling or kayaking. These gifts will make his adventures that much better.

Adventure Experience $40 – $400

Radiate Portable Campfire $28 – $100

Kelty Cosmic Down 20 Sleeping Bag $150 – $170

BioLite SolarHome $150

Brushcraft 101: A Field Guide to the Art of Wilderness Survival $13

The Tech-Savvy Gentleman

Technology is constantly changing, which means there are always new gadgets out on the market. This makes gifting easy, unless it’s something way out of budget or your tech-savvy guy has already bought it. (Or is that just my luck?) We pulled some of the newest tech gadgets, like the Ring video doorbell and a temperature control mug, as well as some practical gifts, like a wireless charging pad, to keep the tech-savvy guy in your life updated and stylish.

Video Doorbell $100

Ember Temperature Control Ceramic Mug $80

Nomad Wireless Charing Pad $70

CamKix Wireless Camera Shutter Remote Control for Smartphones $9

Super NES Classic $80

The Style Icon

Do you know a man who looks like he walked off the pages of GQ? Get this fashionista (fashionisto?) something sleek, modern and fashion forward. If you’re looking for a gift that is particularly modern and stylish, opt for the Withings Nokia Smartwatch. If a fashion-forward smart watch is a little outside of your budget, give him the gift that keeps on giving: a subscription to BirchboxMan, a monthly subscription service that will send him the latest in skin care, grooming and fashion.

The Cotton Bomber $88

BirchboxMan Best-Sellers Gift Set (with 3-Month Subscription) $38

Withings Nokia Smartwatch $220

Accessory Boxes $20 – $40

Burberry Men’s 4-pc. Coffret Gift Set $45

The Foodie

Are you shopping for someone who can’t watch enough MasterChef and loves trying the newest restaurants? He may be a foodie. Get him a gift that will feed his heart and stomach, like a pasta making kit or a book of crazy burger and shake recipes from Black Tap (if he’s into burgers and shakes, he’ll know what this place is).

Mangia – Pasta Making Kit $55

Click and Grow Smart Garden 3 Indoor Gardening Kit $82

Craft Burgers and Crazy Shakes from Black Tap $17

Stainless Steel Bar Tools $49

Press and Measure Herb Infuser $13

The Athlete

Whether he’s an actual athlete or he’s just killing it at the gym, get him something that’ll help with his training. From a post-workout muscle gel to something he can wear, like an Under Armour half zip, these fitness gifts are sure to please any athlete.

Packable MLB American League Duffel Bag $35

Baseball Park Map Glasses – Set of 2 $35

TriggerPoint GRID X Foam Roller $50

Aromatherapy Associates De-Stress Muscle Gel $39

Under Armour Storm Daytona 1/2 Zip $90

The Creative

Sure, you could buy a creative guy something that isn’t related to his skills, but if you want to feed into his art, these are sure to be a hit. To get the most bang for your buck, get him a MasterClass package. He’ll get video tutorials from individuals who are the best at their craft, sharing best practices and insights with your creative guy.

MasterClass All-Access Pass $180

1000 Record Covers $17

Lomography Sprocket Rocket Panoramic 35mm Camera $89

Bullet Journal $10

365 Studio Hinrichs Typography Calendar $49

The Handyman

Last but not least are gifts for the handyman. Whether he’s renovating a house, working on the car or doing some yard work, these gifts will make any work more enjoyable. To help him relax after a long day of work, there’s “Capital Gaines,” a book from everyone’s favorite demo specialist, Chip Gaines. For a more practical gift, opt for something like the extreme riggers bag. If you want to take it over the top, you can even fill it with tools they may need.

Lutron Caseta Wireless Smart Lighting Dimmer Switch Starter Kit $100

DEWALT 2-Tool 20-Volt Max Power Tool Combo Kit $199

Capital Gaines $19

Extreme Riggers Bag $45

Milwaukee Electric Tool Job Radio/Charger $220

From the outdoorsman to the tech-savvy gentleman and everyone in between, these gifts are sure to please. And when all else fails? There’s always an Amazon gift card.

The post 2018 Holiday Gift Guide for Men appeared first on ZING Blog by Quicken Loans.

from Updates About Loans https://www.quickenloans.com/blog/holiday-gift-guide-men

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