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jostepherjoestar · 3 years

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Maybe Jotaro, Risotto, Prosciutto, Bruno and Leone friendship HCs with a fem friend thats llike your generic dumbass but they are just like a soft dumbass, she is just too cute to get mad at no matter how stupid she is. So basically a smol sweet dumbass that just radiate baby energy. Like she just runs up to them saying she want to show them something cool and its just a pretty rock but she looks so happy xjsbkss 💖

Pure of heart, dumb of ass fem!friend with Jotaro, Risotto, Prosciutto, Bruno and Abbacchio HC’s

sfw // fem reader

lemme just say, reader is baby and that’s valid 🥰this is so adorably pure ugh ya done killed me anon 🥺💖✨(can very much relate tho, glad my friends put up with my dumb antics)

Jotaro:

“Why am I friends with you again? Yare yare...” A phrase you’ll hear every time you’re hanging out with this tall bastard. He’ll tease you for being a bit of a dumbass but is incredibly drawn to how kind, sweet and absolutely thoughtful you are.

You remind him of Josuke and Okuyasu which only makes him like you even more. And the added cuteness-factor made him admit to himself he does indeed love cute things, no matter how adamantly he denies it to you.

His favourite thing to do is bring you along to the beach for field research, knowing just how wide eyed and giddy you get when you’re allowed to collect shells and rocks or even poke a jellyfish. You seem very good at spotting irregularities in your surroundings, making quite the good assistant to Dr. Kujo.

You’re even allowed to help with lab research, studying petri dishes filled with algae as you excitedly point out a very important detail he hadn’t noticed yet, too tired from working such long hours. Sometimes you’re quite the genius without even trying.

More than anything he loves the amount of lightness you bring to his life, his studies and general headspace take a large toll on him. Any relief is a welcome one.

He’ll often find himself smiling at the thought of hanging out again, staring at the collection of trinkets he keeps in a cute little Hello Kitty box you once gave him, which rests on his nightstand as a reminder that it can’t hurt to adapt your lifestyle of mindless giddy; even just the tiniest bit.

Risotto:

Being close friends with Risotto seems a bit impossible without being in his squad, he’s very insistent at keeping outsiders of Passione more than an arm-length away. Good thing that the stoic man is your capo, phew!

He’s apprehensive at first, not really sure why the soft round pebble you brought him reminded you of the man as he studied the mineral, admiring its softness. “It’s like you! Soft and worn down, but very sturdy and unbreakable.” smiling sweetly at him, excitedly awaiting a response.

What was this new feeling of being appreciated and cared for? Risotto’s never really experienced a friendship so pure. He’ll quietly thank you for the pebble and keeps it on his desk, staring in awe as he’s reminded of your kind words every time he spots it.

He knows the others like to tease you for not always being aware of general human knowledge, shooting them an intense glare as a warning to keep any rude comments or jokes to themselves.

Your friendship consists of him mostly listening to you, quietly taking in all the stories you divulge- so full of excitement, telling him facts you picked up somewhere; the source of these often containing varying levels of credibility. He won’t correct you though. (unless it’s something that might actually endanger you)

He values your friendship so.much. He’s not used to being treated so kindly, receiving random gifts, being praised for a job well done, having someone who doesn’t judge him in the slightest. He’ll do whatever he needs to keep you safe, from others and yourself, along with trying to return your kindness and care. (he tries his best and it’s so cute)

(you guys hold hands for safety when you’re out in the city... just saying, it’s adorable)

Prosciutto:

Prosciutto has a chronic case of “caring older brother disease”. Will need to hold himself back from tying your shoelaces for you, the man knows you can do it it yourself but it’s just taking sooo long.

Just like Risotto, you’d have to be a team member to get close to him in any way. Good thing he recruited you ;)

It’s a bit hard to make him open up about anything personal. You feel like he knows everything about you, while you barely know a thing. When he sees your pouty lip and begging gaze that is way too cute to deny, he’ll cave. Perhaps finally realising it’s alright to lean on others.

He’ll still struggle with continuing the openness, but find relief in your loyalty and understanding. The way you intently listen to his troubles, there to hold his hand if he ever needs it, it makes his heart hurt to know how sweet and gentle you are.

Will keep you and Pesci separate during missions, he’s already getting a migraine from imaging everything that could go wrong without his guidance.

For someone who’s a little more on the dense side, you make up for it in emotional intelligence. Whenever you see how stressed he tends to get, eye twitching without even realising while his shoulders hunch together in discomfort, you come over to hug him. It’s something he had to get used to, the small gesture always calming him down enough to keep going.

Does not appreciate you slipping cute trinkets in his suit pocket. Especially not after finding a snail that one time. You’ve been forbidden from leaving pocket gifts since the incident.

Bruno:

It concerns Bruno just how clueless you can be from time to time. That one time they almost left you behind on a busy station with no cellphone because you found a coin on the ground made him realise you need some extra supervision.

He’s not the type to hold you back from doing things that are guaranteed to result in disaster (unless it’s literally deadly), he wants you to experience the consequences of your own actions.

You do make him hold back his laughter when you try out a stupid idea you know has failed in the past, but change your methods slightly to hope for better results. And you know what? Now he’s curious too.

The man has a weird sense of humour that sometimes even surprises you. He’ll copy your habit of picking up strange trinkets or rocks and asks you to compare findings with him. Like trading marbles, he’ll barter with a smirk.

“Mhh, if you give me that cute shell and that pointy rock... I’ll give you this keychain.” His alluring offer making you question if you’re getting swindled or not. “Hey! That shell is at least worth two stickers!” He’ll heartily laugh at your reply, a mischievous smile while thinking over the trade. “Ok, two stickers and a pebble then.”

With a firm handshake the deal goes through. The rest of the gang never knows how to respond, staring in amazement as their grown-ass capo barters with their grown-ass teammate. He loves being silly with you and forgetting all the pressures of life for just a moment.

Bruno takes his time opening up to you, but finds your presence so comforting it becomes very easy to trust you. As a vital part of his team he finds it important to be able to lean on each other for support and is glad you offer him just as much trust and loyalty.

Abbacchio:

Will never admit he can’t live without you anymore. You’ve become the shining beacon of assumed happiness the man never thought existed. He knows you won’t always be go-lucky and have your own troubles and struggles but admires how you handle them.

Don’t get me wrong, he’ll still gladly tease you for your occasional (well, more like frequent) stupidity. He’ll let you know with a big huff you should smarten up; “Read a book that doesn’t have pictures in it for once.”

He’ll be the first to correct any wrong info you’ve been given, unless he thinks it’s funny. Like when Mista made you believe you needed to order dessert at Libeccio or they’ll kick you out for breaking their beloved rule. It’s only when he saw the panic in your eyes when you finished your main course one day -too full for any sweets to come- that he assured you it was a dumb joke. (he’ll put all the blame on Mista)

Abbacchio seems to tether to people who have a positive influence on him without even realising, it won’t be obvious to him, but just like with his loyalty and admiration for Bruno, he’ll make sure you know it once he finds out.

Not that it’s a bad thing, his need to cling to anything that might help him stay afloat just needs to stay healthy. You didn’t even realise your effect on him, you were too busy trying to figure out a way to turn that scowl into that smirk.

After gifting him a handmade friendship bracelet that had the shortened versions of your names spelled on it, he hugged you. So tightly it was suffocating, you were shocked since he’s never been the touchy type. “Leone! I can’t breathe...” He’ll let go after the complaint but that look on his face will never leave your memory. The face of being loved unconditionally by choice, no matter how unworthy he might think himself of it.

#cozy request #physical affection from friends? it's more likely than u think #jjba x reader #jotaro x reader #risotto x reader #prosciutto x reader #bruno x reader #abbacchio x reader #jjba headcanons #jjba imagines #jotaro kujo #risotto nero #prosciutto #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio

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kjack89 · 4 years

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AITA

My bestie’s latest quarantine hobby is trolling through AITA on reddit and sending me ones she thinks will make me mad, so. I got inspired.

E/R, modern AU.

The sun was bright and the mood, all things considered, was high, as the crowd gathered by the river in preparation for the march downtown to call for defunding the police. Black Lives Matter was leading the protest, and Enjolras had volunteered Les Amis to serve as support and allies in whatever way they could, which mostly meant making sure folks were wearing masks and that no one decided to try something stupid with the cops.

“Good crowd,” Courfeyrac remarked, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet as he glanced around before looking back at Enjolras. “As much as I’m sure it’s killing you that they’re only calling for defunding and not abolition.”

“Yeah, well, not even a year ago, no one was talking about defunding the police,” Enjolras pointed out, a little sourly, adjusting his mask, which was emblazoned with WHITE SILENCE IS VIOLENCE. “I’ll take what progress I can get.”

Courfeyrac smirked. “You sound practically moderate.”

Enjolras scowled. “Take that back, or—”

His threat was cut off by the arrival of Joly, Bossuet and Grantaire. It was hard to tell by the masks all three wore, but Enjolras was pretty sure that all three were grinning, and judging by the way Bossuet was swaying, just slightly, it wasn’t just because they were in a good mood.

“I’ll take it you three decided to hit up a brunch spot on your way here?” Enjolras asked, even more sourly than before.

“A man has to eat,” Joly said innocently, which would have gone over much more believably had he not giggled at the end.

“Besides, we only ordered one drink,” Bossuet assured him.

Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess,” he said dryly, “you each ordered a bottomless mimosa.” He didn’t wait for any of them to confirm it. “And how many refills of said drink did you also order?”

Joly and Bossuet looked at each other and laughed, and Grantaire pulled his mask down to grin lazily at Enjolras. “Let me put it this way,” he said, “more than one and less than ten.” He paused. “Probably. I did lose track after about seven.”

Snickering, Joly and Bossuet headed over to join the rest of Les Amis, but when Grantaire made to follow, Enjolras blocked him, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “You’re drunk,” he said accusingly, and Grantaire’s grinned widened.

“Well, I’m sure as shit not sober.”

“Put your mask back on,” Enjolras ordered, less concerned for himself, as Grantaire was part of his quarantine bubble, and more for everyone else milling around before the march started. Especially any journalists who might love to get a shot of BLM protesters breaking the mask mandate. “And go home, Grantaire.”

Grantaire slowly pulled his mask back up over his mouth and nose, smoothing it into place before looking at Enjolras plaintively, all trace of humor vanishing from his expression. “Let me stay here,” he said, his voice soft, and not just from the cotton that covered his mouth.

Enjolras shook his head, well aware that even if Grantaire might suddenly sound sober, he wasn’t. “Go home,” he repeated. “The last thing we need is your drunk ass picking a fight with the cops or something worse and turning this whole thing into a riot instead of the peaceful protest its organizers intended.”

“What, you think I’m incapable of going two or three hours without starting a brawl?” Grantaire asked, incredulous.

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “I think you’re incapable of a great many things.”

Grantaire’s lip curled. “Like believing, thinking, willing, living and dying?”

“Only you seem to think you’re incapable of dying,” Enjolras said quietly, before repeating, one more time, “Go home.”

But Grantaire shook his head, taking a step toward him. “If you’re so worried about it, then send Bahorel home, too!” he insisted. “Send home Joly and Bossuet who are just as drunk as I am. Or else let me stay.”

“No.”

Enjolras said the word calmly, but Grantaire recoiled as if he had shorted. “And why not?”

“Because I trust them!” Enjolras burst, his temper getting the better of him, and he scrubbed a hand across his face before adding, what he hoped was a calmer way, “I trust them to actually listen to my instructions and keep themselves out of trouble.”

But something in Grantaire’s face clouded as soon as Enjolras had said that he trusted them, and Enjolras had a bad feeling that he hadn’t really listened to the last part. “Right,” Grantaire said, a little dully, already turning away. “Well. I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras sighed, reaching out to catch his arm, but Grantaire shrugged him off, wandering towards the river, the hunch of his shoulders the only indication that he had any care in the world. Enjolras stared after him for a long moment, his expression troubled.

----------

Four days later, Grantaire rolled over in bed when his phone buzzed. He picked it up off his nightstand, saw that it was a text from Enjolras, and immediately tossed it down again, groaning.

He hadn’t talked to Enjolras since that morning of the BLM protest, and at this rate, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to. Not when he knew that Enjolras didn’t trust him.

Joly would tell him he was being dramatic, and Bossuet would tell him to just text Enjolras and apologize and move on, and since Grantaire wanted to hear neither of those things, he also wasn’t talking to Joly or Bossuet.

Instead, he rolled over onto his stomach, grabbing his phone and stubbornly ignoring the text message from Enjolras still sitting, unread, in his messages. Instead, he clicked on twitter, figuring if he was going to sulk, he might as well sulk while reading about someone else’s misery.

A half hour later, Grantaire had scrolled through what felt like half of twitter before he stumbled upon a random tweet that linked to an ‘Am I the Asshole?’ post on the subreddit of the same name, and he glanced at the clock before deciding he had enough time to waste a couple of hours on a whole new level of misery.

He might’ve kept scrolling for hours, when he stumbled upon an AITA post that was surprisingly familiar.

Suspiciously familiar.

Like he had lived it.

He hesitated for only a moment before clicking on the post.

Posted by u/RadianceoftheFuture 8 hours ago AITA for kicking my friend out of a protest?

So I (25M) was attending a BLM protest the other day with the social justice organization I run. One of my friends, who we’ll call ‘R” (28M), showed up drunk and, IMO, looking to start a fight. This was the last thing I wanted, since we were there to be good allies, and starting fights or inciting a riot as white folks who will get away with it ain’t it. So naturally, I told him to go home.

Now here’s where I may be the asshole. R started arguing with me, and pointed out that some our other friends who were also there were also drunk, and one of our other friends who was there has a history of starting fights, so he asked me why I wasn’t making them leave. I told him it was because I trusted them.

Which is true, but not exactly how I wanted to word it, and I could tell that he was hurt by the implication that I didn’t trust him. And I do trust him, but I also didn’t want to spend the entire time worried about him. Anyway, he left, and he hasn’t talked to me since. If I’m the asshole, I want to apologize so that we can go back to being friends, and even if I wasn’t, I still want to figure out a way for us to talk again. I miss him. So tell me, AITA?

Grantaire stared at his phone, torn between something warm spreading in his chest at the fact that Enjolras cared enough to ask anonymous strangers on the internet about this, and freaking out because Enjolras had posted about their disagreement on the internet.

The man had only two speeds, it seemed, and somehow, Grantaire always ended up dealing with Enjolras on the highest speed.

Numbly, and mostly in an attempt to gather his thoughts, Grantaire scrolled through the comments on the post, unsurprised to see a decent mix of judgements from the redditors. More than expected YTAs (you’re the asshole), plus a number of NTAs (not the asshole), and, predominantly, a smattering of NAH (no assholes here).

Halfway down the page, he paused, realizing that the person who had written the post had responded to a question.

u/oldcoats_oldfriends - 7 hours ago INFO: why do you trust your other friends and not R?

u/RadianceoftheFuture - 6 hours ago Because R has a history of getting himself in trouble, whether by running his mouth off when he shouldn’t or picking fights with guys twice his side, and the trouble he gets into tends to happen after he’s been drinking. So when you put the two together, I was worried he’d do something stupid and get himself locked up or worse. And since keeping an eye on the rest of the protest was important, I knew I couldn’t afford to be distracted by also keeping an eye on him.

And for the record, I trust R with a lot. He’s not as ideological as a lot of us, doesn’t even have a lot of the same beliefs, but I know he would never do anything to hurt the cause, or me. Of course, he might not HELP the Cause, or me, but still. I’ve never once doubted that R would take a bullet for me, if it came to that. I would just never in a million years want him to.

Grantaire swallowed, hard. Of course he would take a bullet for Enjolras, or more, but it had never occurred to him that knowing that might make Enjolras worried. Worried that Grantaire would do something stupid.

If only the man knew that Grantaire worried about Enjolras in exactly the same way.

Hesitating for only a moment, he decided to leave a comment of his own.

u/MyFullGlass1832 - 1 minute ago NAH. Sure your friend shouldn’t have been drunk and you were right to kick him out, but drinking doesn’t make him an asshole (though not talking to you might). I am curious why you would have been worried about him. He’s a grown man and not your responsibility.

He quickly closed out of reddit, not wanting to do something stupid and refresh until Enjolras responded, but he only half-paid attention to the tweets he scrolled past, glancing at the clock to see if it was still pathetic for him to check for a response.

But to his shock, when he finally gave in and checked forty-five minutes later, Enjolras had answered, and something in Grantaire’s stomach twisted to know that he was still checking the thread, still seeking a resolution.

u/RadianceoftheFuture - 39 minutes ago Maybe ‘worried about’ is the wrong term, but he’s my friend. I didn’t want him to get hurt, or worse, because he was drunk. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten hurt on my watch, and everytime it happens, it’s awful. And not just because he won’t shut up about it for the next six months - I always feel so guilty, like I should’ve been protecting him. I know that’s not realistic, so the very least I can do is send him home when I think he’s liable to hurt himself. That way I can sleep at night knowing I did what I could.

The breath caught in Grantaire’s throat, and his chest felt tight, especially as he read the follow up comments.

u/valiant.artisan - 34 minutes ago INFO: Are you and R gay?

u/tremble_b4apoppy - 26 minutes ago Dude you may be in love with R.

u/timidinrepose - 21 minutes ago OMG this is the sweetest thing I’ve read all day.

u/Lymantria_dispar - 12 minutes ago. Pretty sure this might go a little beyond just friendship. Either way, I’m glad you care about your friend, and even though you weren’t TA, you should call him and explain why you told him to go home.

Grantaire couldn’t seem to stop his stupid smile as he stared at the computer, and this time, he didn’t hesitate, opening his text chain with Enjolras without reading any of Enjolras’s previous texts. He didn’t need to read them know.

NTA.

He sent the text and held his breath, wondering if Enjolras would acknowledge it, immediately, or try to play it cool. His one word answer indicate the former: Sorry?

But Grantaire wasn’t nearly as willing to play it coy. Not anymore. Your AITA post. I’m giving you my judgment. NTA.

In his mind, he could see Enjolras blush, that same way he did when he was frustrated, two spots of color rising high in his cheek as he stared at Grantaire. You saw that?

Even in his mind, it was a beautiful sight. Yeah

Then you should know, I agree with the majority opinion.

The image of Enjolras blushing disappeared, leaving Grantaire blinking at his phone, his brow furrowed as he tried to think of what the majority option would have been. Oh?

NAH.

Grantaire grinned, but before he could respond, Enjolras texted, Want to come over? I think I owe you an explanation in person.

I thought you’d never ask.

----------

u/ RadianceoftheFuture - 45 minutes ago UPDATE: AITA for kicking my friend out of a protest?

(Original.)

Thank you all very much for your feedback in the original post. There were a variety of perspectives on this, but some of the comments on the original post made me realize that I may in fact feel something more than friendship towards R, and it’s a good thing I figured it out, because he found the post, and even commented on it without me knowing! Anyway, we talked, I explained how I felt, and it turns out R’s had a thing for me pretty much since he’s known me. Anyway, we’re dating now, and while this isn’t exactly going to solve my problem of worrying about him, I also think he’ll be on somewhat better behavior now. For my sake at least.

We still have a lot to work on together, but we’re moving in the right direction. And to think, I probably never would’ve figured it out if it weren’t for reddit, of all the websites.

u/MyFullGlass1832 - 3 minutes ago WIBTA for hijacking my boyfriend’s reddit post to tell him that I love him?

u/ RadianceoftheFuture - 2 minutes ago YTA for sitting literally two feet away from me and responding to a reddit post when we could be doing something far more exciting.

u/MyFullGlass1832 - 1 minute ago ...good point.

#enjolras x grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #reddit au #that pained me to type #anyway #developing relationship

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captainsourwolf · 3 years

Text

I had an email about a new Netflix movie:

And my brain immediately went the rhinky route.

Like, Rhett would be the wealthy charmer that’s been eyeballing the Neal farm (maybe a vineyard??) farther up north, around San Fran, and all its potential to make him even wealthier.

Link would be the hardworking farmer (vineyard grape picking person?? wine maker?? idk) that’s trying his best to keep the place afloat after his grandpa passes and his nana moves back to NC to live with his mom. So he’s the one running things and struggling with the upkeep and holding onto employees but he’s making it work.

Rhett first heard about the Neal vineyard after one of his potential clients brought him a bottle of their finest for dinner. He hears all about the eldest Neal getting sick and passing suddenly a few months ago and his one and only grandson—an engineer from LA—taking over. The story piques his interest because wine that good has got to be a big money maker. So he gets more info out of his client, finds out the place can’t hold down any employees since Neal passed, and he’s immediately sure of what he has to do to get the inside scoop to try and take the place.

Link sees an application for a fellow North Carolina man with experience in working on a farm and calls him right away. Rhett’s his name. He comes in for an interview and Link hires him on the spot. He’s also enamored right away the guy. Tall, legs for days, buff enough to crush Link if he wanted, kind eyes, and wild unkempt curls. He doesn’t flush when Rhett shakes his hand.

Rhett is all confidence in the interview, hiding what he really does and playing up his resume. The guy, Link, hires him on the spot. And Rhett doesn’t stare a little too long at the lock of salt n pepper hair hanging in his face, or the too blue eyes and the glasses and the broad shoulders and the tired but beautiful smile.

So Rhett starts working within the week. He moves into the house used for the workers with his minimal possessions. He isn’t looking forward to actually having to do all this hard work, but anything for his next big thing. He’s all about the money and the finer things in life after all. He fumbles through his first few days, hardly sees Link, but when he does he looks a little longer than he should.

The guy is attractive. More than he has any right to be for a struggling vineyard owner. He works in his office most days, and some days he’s out in the field with what few employees are left. In the fields he sweats under the glare of the sun, so much so his shirt clings to every dip and muscle. Rhett has to look away before he gets caught or finds himself in a situation. He can’t be attracted to the person he’s trying to sneakily buy out.

And Link, though he spends most of his days in the office, doesn’t miss Rhett when they’re in the field together or in the barn or wherever the man’s job for the day takes him. He doesn’t miss the way his biceps bulge when he’s lifting barrels of grapes onto the golf cart, and he doesn’t miss the way he shakes his hair out of his face when he’s hot, and he doesn’t miss the way the strip of tan skin between his jeans and shirt seems to stretch on for miles.

After a couple of weeks, Link finds himself alone in the office, in the entire house. He didn’t sign up for this, he didn’t sign up for a huge house and a vineyard and employees and just—the whole package. He’s not cut out for this life. If he could sell without losing everything he would. But his grandpa left it all for him to tend to and his nana couldn’t bear to be here anymore so he makes do. And it’s as he’s in the office alone that he hears a knock.

Rhett finds him. In the low lamplight, Link’s face is cast in shadow but his blue eyes and messy hair and tan skin still draw Rhett in. He swallows audibly and reminds himself he isn’t here for this and so he knocks to get Link’s attention. He doesn’t really remember what he was coming to talk to him about. He gets invited in and he sits.

They talk. About whatever. It’s stiff and awkward at first but after Link pours them a glass of their own wine, they loosen up. Share things. Both from North Carolina—Buies Creek, how bout that!—and both went to NC State. Went to the same schools, the same river, met up with their friends at the same spot in the same graveyard, how did they possibly miss each other so much? Rhett didn’t move there till third grade, Link was hiding in the bathroom from the John Carson’s every day and didn’t notice the new boy. Link was the shy and awkward kid, got called names so he made himself as small as possible, only had his mom and his grandparents and his one friend. And now here they are. Rhett a wealthy businessman and Link an unhappy engineer with a vineyard he was forced into.

Talking leads to quiet contemplation over another glass of wine. Third glass? Maybe. Rhett stares at Link, at the way his long fingers delicately hold the bottom of the glass, at the way his eyes droop the more he drinks, how blue they are in the lamplight. And Link watches Rhett. Watches the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way this one lone curl frames his ear, the way his neck flushes down his chest and into the unbuttoned V of his plaid shirt. He has to take another drink and doesn’t notice the way Rhett is gulping down the last of his, too.

Link starts talking about the vineyard and wanting to sell if it weren’t for the fact he’d lose everything. Rhett’s suddenly reminded of why he’s here and he clears his throat, shifts awkwardly in his chair, finally stands to leave. But a hand closes around his wrist across the desk and he sees Link standing, too, firm grip holding Rhett in place and blue of his eyes making him freeze.

Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the rush of guilt, maybe it’s the time of night and the quiet of the office, but Link lets him go and Rhett meets him halfway and pins him against the edge. Something clatters to the floor as Link bumps into the desk and Rhett gets two big hands under his thighs to hoist him into the surface. It’s most definitely a mistake moving forward but Rhett can’t help it and neither can Link. Rhett’s hand are huge and warm and feel good around his hips, and the noises Link makes are sweet and filthy all at once and make heat curl in Rhett’s belly.

Doesn’t take much to get each other off. Link laid out across the desk while Rhett plants kisses and bites along his neck and throat and all over his torso and jerks his cock in tight strokes that have him moaning too loud. He cums first with a gasp and a moan and spills over Rhett’s fist hot and fast. Then he’s slipping off the desk much smoother than someone three glasses of wine and post orgasm should be able to manage. He gets on his knees and sucks Rhett off so good Rhett sees stars and hunches over palms flat on the desk when he groans and cums down Link’s throat. Rhett cleans them both up and they say goodnight, awkward and fumbling, still a little tipsy.

After that it’s awkward baby steps around each other. Link knowing he’s crossed a line with an employee and Rhett knowing he’s about to take everything out from under Link, and both knowing they want more. For a few days they only speak in employee/employer terms. Of course it breaks by the weekend and Link finds Rhett at the barn cleaning up from the day and can’t help but crowd him against the barrels to jerk him off (and Rhett can’t help but make some joke about the reason the wine is so good is because it has the secret ingredient.)

It becomes a thing. They seek each other out often. Mostly to screw around, sometimes to drink, sometimes to talk, and always to just be near each other. Rhett is slowly feeling guiltier and guiltier about why he’s here, why he’s lying to Link, his purpose for doing this in the first place. And Link is slowly realizing just how much he likes Rhett. How much he’d give up to be with Rhett. So they seek each other out, they fuck, they talk, they kiss, they work.

Of course nothing good can last. Link finds out about Rhett, who he really is, what he’s doing here. And it breaks him. Here he is, wishing he could sell, could be out from under this vineyard, falling for someone, and it’s all just been a lie. A big fat lie! He gets mad, he breaks a few things, he finds Rhett and confronts him, tells him he knows everything. Tells him he knows now he was just getting close to Link to sweep the rug out from under him and get richer quick before running off back to his cushy life in LA.

Rhett argues. They both argue. It’s explosive and Link leaves. When he comes back the next day Rhett is gone. All his things are gone and just like that, after just a few weeks, Link’s left feeling emptier than he did the day his grandpa died.

Time passes. Rhett finds other avenues to make money in LA. Doesn’t flinch when, three months after he leaves, he sees something about the Neal family vineyard going up for auction. The grandson finally caved and sold to the highest bidder, took the money, and left everything except his most prized possessions. Rhett ignores it and moves on despite the ache in his chest seeing the hollow look on Link’s face in the picture, his hand clasped in another’s as he makes the deal. He did this to Link, he supposes.

One day a bottle of wine shows up on his desk. It’s got the signature Neal family vineyard label, the year, and a special label advertising the secret ingredient. And then there’s Link. He looks defeated and sad. But he smiles when he sees Rhett and shrugs, gesturing to the offering.

They make up over that bottle of wine, Rhett tells him the truth about everything, Link forgives him because in the end he didn’t want the vineyard anymore anyway. He made a pretty penny selling in an auction, didn’t lose as much as he thought he would, and now he’s got enough to do what he wants for awhile. They make up some more when Rhett lays Link out across the couch in his office and does what he tried to convince himself he wasn’t missing all these months.

Eventually things even out. Link doesn’t sting whenever he sees something about his former family business and Rhett stops feeling so guilty. Everything works out in the end.

#LOL what??#but okay why am I putting ideas in my own head #when I can’t even finish the fics I currently have going #this is dumb #and I haven’t even watched this movie #but it inspired me okay #Rhink ficlet

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thenameless792 · 3 years

Text

FAMILY HISTORY

So because essentially all of my family on my moms side is gone, for the longest time I had NO idea what my heritage was. Anything about my family history= zilch. I knew that somewhere, we were German and we thought Dutch and possibly French? but that was all I knew.

Well my dudes, I got so tired of not knowing that I decided to research the family history myself.

I figured, Hey! I don’t need to hear about where we came from from my great great aunts!

I live in the wonderful world of the internets!

And since virtually everybody is dead, I started digging through graves and grave records, obituaries, birth certificates, death certificates, US census papers, immigration records, marriage certificates, army records, etc. etc.

Piecing though all of it took forever, and I found quite a few dead ends (especially with the foreign family parts- turns out going to foreign countries’ towns’ records online is rather difficult)

HOWEVER, what I did find (which in some cases dates all the way back to the 1460s) is freaking FANTASTIC

Okay lets get a little more specific (but not too specific cause i know i know internet safety stranger danger don’t give out personal info online….) but specifically on my moms side:

I learned that my grandma was the first in her family to be born on American soil (WHICH I DIDN”T KNOW SO THATS COOL Like my mom is a second generation american and I?? didn’t??? know???? !!!!!!!)

Turns out we’re: Magyar Hungarian and Serb (with the possibility of Yugoslavian, Romanian, and Romani)

ALSO from my grandma’s mom’s mom’s side, there is a possibility of her being descended from/ related to in some way a hungarian nobility family, as she shares a native last name and both are magyar

(It’s mostly a theory because this house had problems during the great war (basically nobility was falling to pieces) which was when this relative scooted over here with her siblings and there are ZERO records of who their parents are and i cant confirm but I’ve got a hunch that its because they come from the noble family and couldn’t have that following them-- bUUUUt I’m gonna keep looking into it to see where it continues to lead me)

And turns out we are very very german on my grandpa’s side:

We had an father/son duo who fought in the revolutionary war right after they boated over from good ol’ Deutschland

two that fought in the civil war (both for the union)

two family owned cemeteries

one dude formed/funded a church????

And are descended from ancient germanic glassblowers and blue dyers (Der Blaufärber- I don’t speak much german but I like that word it is a fun word)

A great great great great great great great (I am not currently counting on my tree so don’t quote me on how many greats) grandpa (who developed the county he lived in) owned and operated a tavern for most of his days (and founded a cemetery)

(Also found quite a few deaths from mental health problems so well hey that explains much)

(Also just going back far enough to see all of the people who had like 15+ siblings stressed me out waaaay too much. I don’t understand how people could have more than like three tbh)

We also have two family crests I didn’t know about!!! Which is dope as fuck!!!

Gonna do my dad’s side next (not nearly as many graves to dig through cause less people are dead but Im gonna try anyways- its rumoured through the family we’re related/descended from Mary Stuart (who is my IDOL) but I’m gonna try to find if that’s true or not (even though I’d honestly rather live in the world where it’s not confirmed but i can still live in blissful ignorance if its not true)

ANybewho that’s an update on my life, which made me so ridiculously excited about, and since I’m all cooped up at home, I figured I’d share it somewhere! Love y’all!!! <3 <3 <3

#Long post sorry peeps #Family History!!!!

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veryimportantsparkles · 5 years

Photo

Alright I’ve kept meaning to do sort of an infodump on my projects because I’ve been really slipping lately. I dunno how obvious it is? Probably kind of obvious. I’ve also been really bad about checking messages and responding to people. So I figure I can write up a status report and then point to it when I’ve been inadequate about communication.

My IRL job has been wiping me out. I’ve been getting short, labor-intensive shifts in the evenings, and then random surprise morning shifts shortly after, which has been really hard to manage my time around. My sleep schedule has been extremely broken and it’s affected my productivity a LOT. Leadership in my department is about to shuffle around and I’ve been interviewed for the manager position. If I get it I’ll be working an entirely different schedule, which could potentially be good for my sleepy brain but will definitely leave me with less art time overall. I’ve also been enduring some back/shoulder issues over the past few months. Nothing urgent, but it’s limiting how much I can draw each day. I think replacing my desk chair is going to be a big factor but it’s not the only factor. I just need to be a smart human and take care of my joints and not hunch over so much. Working on it.

Here’s the current status of my various art projects:

Laserwing

I ended chapter 5 in June and said I would finish up some other side projects before I start concept work for chapter 6. One of the projects I needed to finish was the Popkas Yugioh season 4 special, which I finished. The other big one was my Neonmob card set, which is most of what I’ve been posting lately. Once that’s out of the way (see below) I need to do concept art. Chapter 6 will put all the Laserwing characters in new outfits which will need reference sheets. I’ll need background sketches and layout diagrams so I don’t have furniture shuffle randomly around between scenes. I also need to sketch out the chapter 6 draft page by page. I’ve made Laserwing in GIMP up until this point and am going to try switching to Krita for chapter 6. I might need to do a test page to make sure my process transfers over well into a slightly different system. Once I’m ready to make real pages, those take a while. Chapter 5 pages were going up maybe every 2-3 weeks. I don’t know how many pages are going to be in chapter 6, nor can I say for sure how many chapters are in Laserwing. An old outline had maybe 40 chapters. It’s a story with a defined end point, I can say that for certain, but it’s intended to be long.

Popkas

I’ve had issues with Popkas for a while. I keep picking new themes for dailies, thinking they’re going to be quick and easy, but then end up making them hard for myself. It’s been to my benefit, I’ve forced myself into learning new art programs and techniques through Popkas. But it’s hard to keep up the daily schedule. Currently I’m doing the Paper Mario: TTYD bestiary, which has 124 enemies. At a rate of one per day, by the time I’ve finished them, Pokemon Sword and Shield should be released and we’ll have all the info about the new Pokemon. Those will be drawn in ‘Popka classic’ style (scribbly shitposts). After those are finished, unless my IRL work situation dramatically changes, I’m considering putting Popkas on pause. In order to do any other monster dexes I’d have to do a lot more research (for example, people have suggested Yokai Watch but I’ve never played one) in order to have anything meaningful to post. Same deal with Popka Specials (the anime writeup things), those take prep time and anime-watching time that I might not have. I don’t ever want to end Popkas, but a hiatus might be necessary.

Angelfire Hime

Did anyone even know about Angelfire Hime? Well I want to post more but that involves finding, scanning, retouching, and transcribing my old high school scribble comics. It takes as long as any other project but is also low priority because it’s all old content. Nobody is waiting for the latest update because nobody but me actually knows what that content is, and possibly nobody but me can even read it. It’s more a personal journey of self-reflection than anything. I want to return to it but not at the expense of better work.

MeganFantastic dot com

I had a domain name linked to a tumblr that was supposed to be my news blog/front page and I barely use it. Also, I let the domain registration drop. Also, I had let a typo in my banner graphic go unnoticed for YEARS and still haven’t fixed it. Even now, I’m writing this big post to my personal blog instead of the one for news. The idea was to eventually buy some real hosting and make MeganFantastic a whole site of its own, but that’s a lot of work. I’ve got a generally good idea of HOW I’d do it (probably wordpress) but I’m not a coder, it would take a lot of trial and error. This would be a huge undertaking and eventually Laserwing, Popkas, and all my other junk would be contained on one big non-tumblr website. But it’s uhhhhh not happening yet.

Hundera Youtube

My contribution to our LP channel is to show up, talk about video games, and then draw title cards. All recording, editing, and channel management is maintained by Josh, and I can’t speak on his behalf about our update schedule. I will say there are a lot of half-finished games we want to return to. I will also say that when the new Pokemon comes out Josh is dead set on recording it. I don’t know if he intends that to be a stream or a regular LP. In the meantime he streams Minecraft with his friends every Sunday and we fit in our own streams and recordings when we can.

Commissions/Patron Art/etc

I’ve not been very good about this lately and I’m truly sorry! I have a few things I’m working on, a few things I’ve promised to start working on, and a few things I’ve told people I can do once my workload lightens up, which hasn’t been happening yet. I really don’t have an answer. I almost never delete anything so if I’ve been sent a message in any form I should still have it, and I’ll be sure not to forget anyone. And if I do forget someone feel free to throw rocks at me!

Rane Story 2

What the heck is Rane Story 2? Well I guess I have to explain Neonmob. Imagine if ChickenSmoothie and DeviantART had a baby. It’s a virtual trading card site, which is fun and cute, and I’m drawing out a card series to release on there. I’ve been using it as practice for painting backgrounds and to fill out some backstory for some 4th-string Laserwing support characters. Before Mistaire came to Earth, she went to space high school, and that’s where Rane Story takes place. You can preview the series, and when it’s finished I’ll post about it. I’ll also repost all the art to DA. If you scroll through the last several pages of this blog you’ll see some of the art. I’ve put a lot of my brain energy into getting this done in spite of my work/sleep issues because I don’t want to resume Laserwing until I’ve finished it. This is what’s stolen my life, guys. Right now I have 6 more cards to make, and then I have to write and finalize all the text. I should be done SOON.

Pokemon Nonsense

When my back and shoulder get too hurty and I have to take a break from drawing, one of the easy things to do is whip out a DS and play Pokemon. I’ve done a lot of twitter shitposting about it lately. I’ve also drawn up a bunch of gijinkas for my Pokemon. I’m talking about it now because I also intend to draw up gijinkas for Pokemon to trade away. I’ve already done a few. However, I don’t know for sure how I’m going to distribute them. The idea is people can trade actual Pokemon with me (in either X or Let’s Go Eevee) and the Pokemon they get will come with a character design for you to keep. I was thinking I might do a discord server for organizing trades and such, but I haven’t yet. Mostly because it’s low priority and I have SO many other things going on. But actually playing Pokemon can happen when I’m too fatigued for real work, so the horde keeps growing. Hopefully my posts and scribbles about it are entertaining.

I feel like there’s other projects on hold that I wanted to discuss, but right now I’m too braintired to remember, and some of my ‘projects’ never actually got talked about online so nobody’s waiting for an update. My greatest problem seems to be that I try to juggle too many pointless side projects and then drop them all over the place. Sometimes I’ll shitpost about an idea and even I won’t be sure if I was serious or not. How do I end this post? I don’t know.

tl;dr Megan is SLEEPY and dropped her spaghetti everywhere but somehow still has time to play POKEMON and WON’T STOP TALKING ABOUT IT

#long post #what do i even tag this as

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raendown · 5 years

Link

I didn’t even realize it was Sunday, I almost forgot to update this >.<

Chapter: 4/9 Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4161 Rated: M Summary: Walking patrol around a university for mages probably sounded like a wild time but Tobirama has never found it all that exciting. He’s not even technically supposed to be here. When responding to a tripped alarm becomes a desperate attempt to stay alive, however, excitement is the last thing on his mind. All he’s ever wanted is a quiet life alone with his books until he finds himself bound to Uchiha Madara in the most impossible way and finally learns to think about more than just himself - in a way.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 4

As soon as he stepped foot in the library Tobirama took a deep breath in and held it, savoring one of his favorite smells in the whole world. Madara eyed him strangely and gave a little sniff of his own. Underneath the dust kicked up by dozens of bodies shuffling around there hung the scent of old parchment, ink, leather bindings, the stink of the glue from cheaply made tomes. If peace and relaxation had a scent it would be this. Already Tobirama could feel the tension sliding away from him and he deliberately ignored the look Madara was giving him as he dragged them towards his favorite table in the far back corner where most people knew better than to disturb him. Just because he’d agreed to let Madara do his own thing with whatever students found him here didn’t mean he had to make it easy for them to do so. One or two at a time was one thing but he was really hoping this didn’t turn in to a full blown class right next to him.

On their way back to the table he snatched a few books off the shelves, handing most of them over to his partner without thinking much about it. He only had one hand available to him at the moment and it was busy pulling down new worlds to explore. Madara only really seemed to realize that he was placidly accepting them all when the pile grew so high it obstructed his vision and the weight of them all became painful where their hands were clasped under one side of the stack.

“I think that’s enough for now, don’t you?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“Perhaps. If I want more later I can always drag you along.” Tobirama snagged some of them back and together they trundled on over to the table he liked best.

As soon as they settled in to adjacent chairs Tobirama disappeared behind two books at once, furrowing his brows and determined to ignore the adolescent boy he could already see approaching them. He hadn’t expected anyone to find them so quickly, although he supposed they hadn’t made much of an effort to hide their entrance.

“Uchiha-sensei, it’s good to see that you’re okay! You’ve been out of class for days but no one will say why!” The boy even sounded earnest in his worry. Madara preened next to him while Tobirama rolled his eyes in disbelief.

“I’m fine, Kiba. Where’s Akamaru?”

A quite woof caught Tobirama’s attention, popping his head over the stack of books to see a cute little puppy grinning happily from his place inside the student’s book bag. He preferred cats himself but dogs had their own allure in some cases. The one hiding there was certainly cute with his tiny pink tongue and his floppy ears, not the sort of puppy one turned down a chance to pet.

“Don’t tell, please,” Kiba begged them. “He’s not supposed to be in here but he promised not to chew on anything! He just stays in my bag!”

“Familiars are supposed to stay out of study areas,” Madara reminded the boy. Kiba drooped sadly in time with his dog. “I won’t tell if you let me hold him for a bit, though.”

“Alright!”

Tobirama did a quick mental check to make sure his jaw hadn’t dropped entirely off his face as Madara maneuvered their hands apart while pressing their sides together so he could accept the little puppy and greet it cheerfully. Akamaru, as was apparently its name, greeted him back with another polite woof and a few licks up the center of his face. Instead of getting mad or jerking away in disgust Madara only chuckled and settled the pup in his lap for a good scratch behind the ears.

It was at that point that Tobirama began to question if this was really Madara that he’d been bound to or just a really close lookalike. Where was the uptight fool who never took so much as a step out of bounds or did anything unexpected? What happened to the man whose temper flared up at the slightest hint that someone might be breaking a rule? It was like he was holding a complete stranger’s thigh.

Which was kind of creepy and not a mental image he wanted to focus on.

He noted Madara giving him a look from the corner of one eye that would have been inscrutable if not for the connection between their minds. Even then it took a minute or so to work through the confusion and unravel everything, from the slight offense at being assumed so uptight to the mild smugness at having disproved such an assumption and even the mostly suppressed happiness to have Tobirama recognize that he wasn’t that bad of a person. That last bit they both ignored.

Despite his insistence that he would be spending their little outing doing his own thing, Tobirama found himself ignoring the book propped up in front of him while instead he observed the way Madara interacted with his students. He was a far cry from the warm paternal type but neither was he cold and aloof the way most of the other teachers assumed him to be. When one of the little buggers stopped by with a question he answered it with no sugar coating, explaining things further when they asked, and although he never held back on telling them they had something wrong he was never cruel about it either.

As much as Tobirama hated to admit it, the man was apparently a descent teacher.

Over an hour after they sat down he finally managed to peel his eyes away from the disturbingly heartwarming sight of Madara hunched over a half finished essay with a tearful young girl and pointing out all the parts where she was on the right track. Clearing his throat as quietly as possible, he forced himself to focus on the book in front of him and not the feelings of pride rolling off the man at his side. Giving his attention to some ancient dead man’s account of a water based summoning he may or may not have gotten to work one time was clearly a better use of his time than speculating over how all of those adolescents could simply ignore it whenever their professor’s fingers began to smoke with frustration. Much more interesting, obviously. It meant nothing that it took forever to convince himself to concentrate on the proper thing.

Like always, once he’d actually managed to sink in to the texts he was reading time seemed to pass him by in a great wave without him noticing in the slightest. It felt like only five minutes later that he felt a shoulder bumped pointedly against his own and resurfaced to discover that he’d gone through four different books as easily as turning to the next page.

“We should eat,” Madara said. When Tobirama looked around there were no students in sight and Madara’s body was turned at such an angle that it looked like he’d been reading the book over Tobirama’s shoulder.

“The hell are you doing?”

“Shut up! You were so absorbed and you felt so happy reading it, I just wanted to see what was so interesting!” He leaned back in his chair with a scowl but it did very little to cover his embarrassment at being caught. Tobirama wondered what was so bad about giving in and finally understanding the draw of research but he didn’t ask. Understanding this man’s brain seemed like a good step on the path to crazy town and he was already farther down that road than he would have liked.

Now that it had been brought to his attention, though, he realized that he was actually starving. Getting some food sounded like a marvelous plan.

“What time is it?”

“Almost noon,” Madara said, checking the shadows coming in from a nearby window.

“If we hurry we can be back in my rooms by the time Hashirama gets there to deliver us some food.” Convincing his brother to hand deliver their meals until they figured out what to do about the whole stuck together situation had actually been pretty easy. All he’d had to do was point out that it would a good excuse for them all to spend some quality time together. Unfortunately for his brother Tobirama had also already come up with a backup plan for sending the man away when he got tired of the company. A headmaster shouldn’t take too much time away from his work, after all, and he delighted in pointing that out every time.

“You, uh, I don’t suppose you were planning to check that one out?” Madara asked. When Tobirama lifted an eyebrow at him he balked. “What! It was interesting, okay? So sue me!”

He did indeed check that one out, along with a couple others that covered similar subjects, but not without projecting as much cocky amusement as he could. Still, Madara helped him carry them back home so he refrained from making any comments out loud.

The two of them had just enough time to find the right spot in Tobirama’s chaotically organized front room to store the new books before Hashirama arrived with a bright smile and three trays of food.

“Room service!” he called out cheerfully.

“Go service your wife,” Madara snapped back reflexively. Tobirama scrunched his face with disgust and shoved his partner against the wall.

“I didn’t need to picture that!”

“Well I didn’t mean it like that!”

Using the excuse of maintaining contact to keep the other shoved against the wall, Tobirama scoffed. “Of course you didn’t, you’re a prude.”

“Hey! I- I have dirty thoughts sometimes!”

“Oh sweet spirits, I didn’t need to picture that either.” He sniggered as Madara shrieked and squirmed with embarrassment under his hold, smoke all but pouring out from the tips of his fingers, while Hashirama hovered by the doorway with a sad little pout on his lips.

“And here I thought you guys had started getting along better,” he mourned.

Tobirama ignored him.

Not wanting to upset his carefully organized mess, he let Madara stand up away from the wall and – after dodging a half-hearted revenge swipe – led them all in to the next room so they could eat lunch. Hashirama had their food packed up in neat little bento boxes that he had clearly sat down and made from the food provided in the common dining hall. Working in sync without having to talk it through, Tobirama perched himself on the arm of his favorite chair while Madara sank down in to the cushions, their bodies connected but their hands free to reach for their meals.

In a show of incredible restraint, Hashirama managed to stay quiet and observe the two of them until everyone had taken at least a few bites each. Halfway through a mouthful of fried chicken he leaned back in his own seat and tilted his head to look at them from a different angle.

“You know, I’m surprised at you Tobi.” His words had Tobirama pausing with food raised halfway to his mouth.

“Don’t call me that. Surprised why?”

“Because you’ve been finishing all the food that I’ve been bringing every time. I only just thought about it now but I know usually you bring a bit of food back here and leave it out for those raccoons that live outside your window. Did they leave? I thought you said you were trying to help them through the winter!”

Trying very hard to convince the ground to open up and swallow him, Tobirama ignored the stare burning in to the side of his head as he leaned forward to hiss at his brother, “They were squirrels, not little trash goblins, now shut your face.”

Hashirama ducked his head like a chastised child.

“Now hold on a damn second.” Madara set his bento down and Tobirama could almost feel the smirk on his face through their link. “You? Feeding the little squirrels outside?”

“You can shut your face too.”

“What, were they helping you with an experiment or something?” He scoffed at his own joke until Hashirama tossed a chopstick at him, sending Tobirama in a coughing fit when it pinged off the center of Madara’s forehead.

“Don’t be mean to my brother! He’s nice! They were little baby squirrels and Tobi was worried that they weren’t going to make it through the season so he was leaving food out for them to stock up for the winter!”

Tobirama immediately stopping choking with laughter, mirth giving way to an embarrassed frown. “Brother! I said shut up! And stop calling me that!”

Snatching up the weaponized chopstick, he threw it back at his sibling and huffed irritably when the man dodged just in time. No one was ever supposed to know about the squirrels. They weren’t important. They were no one else’s business! Hashirama had no right to out him like that right in front of Madara who now had one hand in front of his mouth to cover the sight of his half chewed food while he laughed.

“Aww, has the cold hearted man gone soft?” he teased.

“Madara! I said don’t be mean to my brother!”

Picking out a piece of chicken from his bento, Tobirama threw that too. “Don’t you have work to do, brother? Go bury yourself in paperwork or something. And clean up the chicken!”

“But you threw it at me!” Hashirama sniffled but he did still lean over to pick up the chicken that had just bounced off his shoulder. “Why are both of you always so mean to me? I just wanted to come hang out for a bit! I mean, yes, I should be working on the admission slips for the next semester but still! So cruel!”

His feet shuffled on his way to the door but it wasn’t enough to make either of them feel bad for sending him away. After seeing him three times a day for several days in a row they had certainly spent enough time together not to feel guilty over cutting one lunch short. They both knew he’d be over it in less than five minutes anyway, off to find some other excuse to avoid the work he should be doing.

Alone again, Tobirama avoided looking down at his partner and considered the irony that they had been so looking forward to some kind of company and still ended up chasing away the one person always willing to provide it. Madara pressed at the barrier between their thoughts, the feeling of him still heavy with amused disbelief, driving Tobirama to concentrate as hard as he could on the bento in his lap. Chicken had never been his favorite but it was better than getting made fun of for having a soft spot for animals.

They were defenseless! And tiny! Only a monster would hate little creatures like that. Evidently Madara had thought him a monster but it was hard to find that offensive when he’d thought the same in return until recently. Being wrong was the worst.

“I think that’s the record for the fastest we’ve been able to chase him off,” his partner said out of the blue.

“That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Should I be saying something else?”

When Tobirama peeked down Madara was looking back up at him with a knowing light in his eyes, more than aware that he was waiting to be made fun of.

“Just shut up.”

“Always putting your best foot forward,” Madara snickered.

By now Tobirama had learned enough about the man beside him to know that if he said anything more he would just be asking for trouble and, while that normally wouldn’t bother him, he had never been a big fan of setting himself in the line of fire. It would be best to just eat his meal quietly and let them both go on about their day.

After lunch they spent the rest of the afternoon doing more tests trying to figure out the exact limit of how far apart they could separate now without pain and for how long. For the first couple of hours they only managed an inch or so for a couple of minutes at a time and always they needed a little while of solid contact to recover from it. Mostly they filled those stretches by sitting together and devouring one of the library books. After a while, though, they managed to stretch the distance to almost two feet and last for nearly ten minutes. It wasn’t much but for two people who had spent the past forever holding hands it was like a taste of freedom.

Hours after he had left with his tail between his legs Hashirama returned bearing three dinners and a smile.

“Guess what? I went back to my office and Mito was already there working on the admission slips! Isn’t that amazing? I just don’t know what I would do without her.” For a few seconds he was gone in to dreamland and Tobirama used that time to swap their meals around so he got the larger portion.

“Drown under your own responsibilities?” he suggested, bringing his sibling back to earth. Madara offered him a fist to pound before opening his own food.

“Tobi–”

“No!”

“Stop being mean to your big brother. I promise I helped her as soon as I saw that she’d started the work herself! It’s not like I actually just sit back and let her do all my work for me all the time. That would just be…well. We’d fight for sure.” Hashirama shuddered at the very thought – and rightfully so. Mito made an imposing figure even when she was in a good mood; when angered she was terrifying.

Half the meal passed by while all three of them were busy reliving their worst nightmares, all of which featured an angry Mito. The silence lasted until Tobirama stood up to brush the crumbs off his lap and Hashirama gasped with shock when he saw the lack of contact between them.

“Oh! Does this mean you two are all better now?” he asked.

“What? No.” Tobirama pinched his lips together disapprovingly. “Did you not listen when your daughter explained what happened to us? This isn’t something that’s going to ‘get better’ as you say.”

“But you guys aren’t touching! So does that mean everything is back to normal?”

Madara scoffed. “Afraid not. I don’t know that we’ll ever get back to normal, per se, but we do have a bit of leeway now and I must say it’s nice to have my own person all to myself again.”

Despite the confidence in his expression and the complete relaxation in the way he was sitting, Tobirama only needed one look at his partner to realize that the man was lying. He refrained from calling him out, however, because that would mean drawing attention to the fact that he felt the same way. Freedom was the jewel they had spent every day chasing after since this whole fiasco began and now that they had it they didn’t like it.

Freedom meant being apart and it was as wonderful as it was terrible. The more Tobirama learned about the man at his side the harder it was to keep insisting they hated each other. Irritating he might be and rough around the edges but not nearly as bad as assumed. Antagonistic and snarky for sure. Heartless dick not so much. Getting some space in between them at last was great when Tobirama thought about all the times one of them was restless and wanted to pace but the other didn’t. It lost a lot of its shine when he thought about how if they kept getting more space Madara could eventually move back in to his own rooms, a subject neither of them had even bothered to bring up since that first day.

“Oi, are you listening?” Tobirama blinked. He had not, in fact, been listening. Had not even been aware the conversation continued after he got lost inside his own morbid thoughts.

“Did I miss something important?” he asked instead of admitting to anything. Madara snorted but Hashirama forgave him with an easy smile.

“Well Madara was saying how nice it was to get out and see something other than these rooms for a change and we started talking about things that could get you guys out again. Just for a little while! I know how much neither of you want people staring and wondering why you’re holding hands.” Something in Hashirama’s smile looked hopeful for a few terrible seconds until Tobirama glared hard enough to make it go away again.

“Go on…”

Waving his friend off, Madara took up the recap. “I told him I was anxious to get back to class and he suggested you sit in with me. You wouldn’t have to do anything and you could sit at my desk where we would be close enough to touch; I’m sure we can manage to be subtle about it.”

“About as subtle as your hair,” Tobirama snapped. Then he wrinkled his nose and grumbled, “Habit. Sorry. That’s an interesting idea, actually.” It would be fascinating to compare how different the man was when faced with dozens of students at once rather than one on one, if his lectures were as boring as Tobirama remembered from when he took the class. If he tried very hard he might be able to convince himself that was the only reason he was agreeing to this.

“Excellent! If it becomes a regular thing maybe Tobi can be your teacher’s assistant! Oh, that would just be so cute!” Hashirama clasped his hands together with joy – then yelped when Tobirama leaned over to shove him sideways.

“Not likely.”

When he sat back down Madara was staring at him with a worried expression. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“I – what?”

“You said ‘as subtle as my hair’, what’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, I guess? It’s just…puffy. All that volume, it basically arrives everywhere five minutes before the rest of you does. I’d ask if you brush it but I know you do.” Tobirama lifted one eyebrow in judgment as Madara patted the sides of his head anxiously. He would never understand why anyone bothered to grow their hair out. After spending his childhood watching Hashirama nearly choke to death every time he forgot to braid his hair before bed Tobirama had decided that he would never grow his own out, not even as long as his shoulders. How Madara avoided the same fate was a mystery.

“Of course I brush my hair! You brushed my hair for me yesterday!” Madara crossed his arms in offense and turned away. It would have been more believable if he hadn’t then leaned back in to Tobirama’s side like an angry girlfriend desperate for attention.

Hashirama watched them with wide eyes and a smile that could not spell anything good.

“Brother…you brush his hair for him?”

“It was only a couple of times!” Tobirama protested. “And only because he was too lazy to do it for himself and I couldn’t stand the rat’s nest!”

“That is just so sweet of you! Aw, you guys really are getting along better!” Clasping his hands together again, Hashirama beamed like the annoying little sunshine he was, determined to find any excuse to shine.

With their minds melded the way they were Madara and Tobirama were able to look at him in perfect sync, wrinkle their noses, and grumble, “Ugh.”

Then they both turned away in silent agreement to ignore him for the next few minutes until he apologized for getting unnecessarily mushy. After that he made sure not to mention anything about how much nicer they were treating each other and instead started chattering about who had been covering Madara’s classes while he was away and how happy the students would be to see him back.

Used to spending most of his days alone with ink and paper, Tobirama eventually checked out of the conversation and let the two best friends carry on without him, subtly dragging one of the books towards him that they hadn’t had time to put away when Hashirama showed up. Neither of them seemed to notice when he cracked it open across his lap but before he could get lost in the knowledge awaiting him he peeked over at Madara with his eyes narrowed curiously.

Hopefully Madara wasn’t paying enough attention to the link between them to feel how interested he actually was in going to sit in on the man’s class. After learning so many new things about a man he once thought he understood inside and out, Tobirama found his attention piqued.

What else did he not know about Uchiha Madara?

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #hashirama #fanfiction

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thisisasupergoodidea · 5 years

Text

just watched The Guy Who Didnt Like Musicals a second time. i didnt really process the songs properly the first time and didnt like them but now i can actually hear the tunes as intended and i love this whole thing so much. so im gonna ramble about this musical for a bit. spoilers ahead if u havent watched yet (its on youtube)

ive seen a few of the theories ppl have about the delivery of the musical, and about what happens at the end especially. i think i wanna try my hand at it too because sometimes i enjoy interpreting details. and im a gigantic sucker for reprises that stitch together all the songs we just heard into its own frankenstein song that completely changes in meaning or tone based on all the info we absorbed over the course of the program. and boi the last song of the show sure fuckin delivers

ok well i need to start at the beginning though. some ppl are confused by what the opening lil song and dance is within the context of the musical, because it introduces the main character, but at that point no one is infected yet so it just seems like standard musical stuff in the viewpoint of the audience, who expects this. but the entire plot of this musical is that the characters’ world slowly BECOMES a musical due to alien spores from a meteor infecting everyone to act as a harmonious hive mind. so in this sense its two musicals at the same time: the musical that starkid productions wrote, and the looser ‘musical’ that the alien entity is orchestrating during its antagonism of the main character. i believe that the opener takes place after at least a partially successful domination of the populace, mostly because of the fact that the characters who participate in that song are referring to ‘themselves’ in the third person and are dancing all hunched and menacingly, exactly how the alien spore compels people to dance later on in the plot. that plus a line that i might be recalling correctly about how the main character is their final story to tell, makes me certain that this is the alien telling that story

as for the main character paul’s absence from that song, i really think thats something intended in the musical to introduce what paul is like in the most succinct way possible. the guy just did not like musicals. throughout the plot he is constantly defining himself by his lack of participation, so of course the cheekiest way to set that up is to have him not participate in the opener. i think the confusing part here is when the story actually begins, because if the opener was performed by the future infected characters, when is the line drawn to differentiate between the two musicals that are happening (starkid musical vs alien musical)? or is the whole thing a performance by the alien entity? in which case, everyone on that stage is simply acting out the story as determined by the hive mind. but to whom, if everyone’s infected? i’ll get back to that later

another thing i love about this musical is how gradually tired of paul’s shit the alien entity becomes over the course of the plot, as evidenced by the tone of the songs. it just gets worse and worse. the alien’s songs turn from sickeningly cheerful to enticing, to threatening, to evoking hopelessness, then finally to pressuring paul past his breaking point. some of the songs arent even directed at paul but the change still happens, which goes to show the alien entity’s frustration. and at the end when the infected find emma, the song is happy again. they sing that awesome reprise, a really energetic mashup in which its hard not to feel like the alien plague is unstoppable. inevitable, one might say.

speaking of the end... paul’s confrontation with the meteor (my absolute favorite scene that i would rewatch a hundred times except i dont want to get tired of it too fast) contains good information to understanding what happens afterward. paul tries to blow it up, gets distracted by the appearance of his infected acquaintances, and the longer he stays there the more infected he himself becomes, breathing in such a heavy concentration of those alien spores at the epicenter of its activity. until now, he has rejected actively being the ‘star of the show’ like the alien seems to... want him to be? idk, the point is that his character defies musical protagonist tropes despite how the plot follows him. the story is ABOUT the alien, but paul is the audience’s anchor. until he goes to blow up the meteor. at that point, the alien has him. he can barely fight back against his own body synchronizing with the other infected as they goad him into giving in, but he puts up a damn good struggle considering those impossible circumstances. still, for the first time, he participates. he sings. he hates it, but it brings out some interesting thoughts: does he hate it? did he ever? or is this just the spores talking?

but what part, exactly, does he hate? in a musical, the singing and dancing act is usually the method of delivery for whatever the character is truly feeling. it is an opportunity for the audience to connect emotionally with the person who is singing. but we dont have that with paul for almost the entire show. he doesnt participate. and he’s established in the beginning as selfish, kind of a dick, and not available to anyone (except emma who is the only person he even slightly opens up to. he tries to be more friendly somewhat with bill, i think, but even then that couldve just been to get him to snap out of it and escape the school). he said himself that people singing and dancing makes him uncomfortable. so all this is to say that, on a deeper level, i think the aspect of the singing and dancing that he hates, that he fights to resist, is the vulnerability. you can witness the madness and shame for yourself as he sings more and more, letting out his worries, unsure if his feelings are his anymore. but hey, he ends that scene with a statement reaffirming the self he walked in with (which is to say, a guy who hates musicals) and finally pulls his grenade. so its cool that he was able to resist that but. guys. if the spores didnt get him. that grenade absolutely did. he didnt even bother to throw it away from himself, he flung it down right in front of him. theres no way he didnt get blown to bloody chunks, fully intending for that to be his final act of defiance

but i think it was too late by then. he’d already breathed in so many spores, and we were shown earlier on that death is not an impediment to becoming infected. i think after he exploded, he was still absorbed into the collective and reformed as a new addition to the hive mind. his explosives might not have been enough to fully destroy the meteor. and thats why, at the very end, i believe that - despite his admittedly suspicious face journey during the song - he isnt faking it. because if he was, wouldnt the hive mind know that it doesnt contain him within it? not only that, but in the opening song emma is clearly part of the group. given that she is the only one who is undoubtedly not infected in the last song, we have to assume that she will be sometime after the finale of the musical.

and now im left with my unexplored questions: is this a musical played straight, or a ‘musical’ put on by the alien entity after it wins? and who is the ‘musical’ intended for? its fun to speculate but im not sure these are questions that can be answered by watching it a bunch of times. theyre aimed too much outside of the zone of operation, if that makes sense. its like, you cant ever look at your own eyeballs normally. you need a mirror or for someone to describe them to you. these questions exist outside of the limitations of the musical format, so we wouldnt direct them at the video, we would ask them of the creators. or not. its cool to not have all the questions answered too

ah i wrote a flippin essay, huh? i guess i wanted to prove to myself that my brain still works

#the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #starkid #i did say i would ramble...

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askaceattorney · 6 years

Text

Dear jnv11,

Only one word comes to mind in that scenario:

Poor Simon would hit a new record for the number of times he shouted that word in a single trial, and Ms. Oldbag might actually run out of breath before she’s done complaining.

Dear jnv11,

You kidding? The woman’s tough, but she’d have a heart attack in no more than five minutes. It’s been a decade since we’ve seen ’er, plus young samurai prosecutor who was suspected of killing his teacher?

Dear anon,

I think what we’ll actually do is stop answering letters that involve real-world politicians altogether, or at least ones that defame them. Just to be clear, the answers I came up with don’t reflect my actual opinion on Donald Trump.

Apologies to anyone who was hit the wrong way by those letters. Make no mistake, I was very uncertain about whether or not I should even bother answering them, but the “answer everything you can” part of my mind eventually won over the “avoid political topics” part. It was all in the spirit of comedy, but, as I should’ve expected, it became more hateful than funny, so I’d say I’ve learned my lesson now.

(Previous Letter)

Dear Ethan Starbright,

..................................................Pff...

PAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Okay, I’m not sure why, but the utter randomness of that fact cracked me up for some reason. Thanks for that.

Dear Ethan Starbright,

.............

.....I don’t get it.

(Previous Letter)

Dear 55,

Glad to hear it! The Ace Attorney series is good at revealing the plot at just the right pace to keep you guessing about who the culprit is and/or what the motive for their crime was, but it’s just as entertaining to see Phoenix and company find the truth for themselves, even if you already happen to know some of it yourself.

Plot-wise, my favorite game was Trials and Tribulations, mostly because of how cleverly it jumped from one timeline (and main character) to another. Throughout the game, we get to learn more about the events of the past and how they relate to the present day situation -- Mia’s first encounter with Phoenix, Godot’s true identity and history, how Winston Payne lost his hair, and so on, and every tiny bit of it makes the game more intriguing. My favorite part was Iris’s confession about what she did for Phoenix near the end. I’d love to see Hollywood try and come up with anything as beautifully touching as that.

It’s been a little while since I listened to the soundtracks from any of the trilogy games, but I think my favorite one comes from the first game, since it’s the most memorable for me. I sure didn’t expect to hear those kind of fast and engaging tunes in a game about a lawyer, did you? The other soundtracks are great too, of course, but the songs from the first game (especially the cross-examination theme) are the most fun for me to remember.

Dear Anonymous,

That’s actually happened a few times before. I remember one letter were Maya claimed she’d never been out of the country even though PLvsAA is canon in this blog, and there was another where Apollo sounded skeptical about spirit channeling, even though he’d been born in the land of spirit mediums. Chances are we’ll have to delete letters that point out contradictions like that, but we’ll try our best to answer them if possible. There’s no way to tell what Capcom will come up with next, but that won’t stop us from making guesses about it in the meantime.

Dear Anonymous,

If something changes in the canon that isn’t reflected in a previous letter, it’s not important. Previous means not in the moment. Not in the moment means no one will notice unless they go far back enough. And if they comment on stuff that happened a while ago, they... no offence, kinda need a hobby.

Dear Professor Oak,

Yes.

Dear Professor Oak,

No.

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Lachtigall,

Sorry to hear that, but hey, at least they picked a different character for the idea, so your letter will still get an answer. We both answer whatever letters we find regardless of which character they’re written to, but in answer to your question about who answered that letter...

Just kidding, it was me.

Dear guquis,

That should be fine if you’re willing to wait that long. Just make sure to indicate that in your letter.

Dear guquis,

if you want your letter to be on a specific date, specify it somehow. And also specify if you want that info blurred so it’s not obvious. It’ll be easier for us that way.

(Previous Letter)

Dear Ender,

It wasn’t intended to look scary in any way, but whatever floats your boat. I thought she looked kind of cute like that, actually.

Dear Ender,

Trust me, neither of them are contenders in the scary contest anymore. Have you ever met Robert? THAT, sir, is scary.

Dear SC,

ComEVENo, huh? That almost sounds like a Native American name.

I’ve finally finished watching Hotel Dusk, but I’ll save my reaction to it for last so I can go into full detail under the cut. That’s how much I enjoyed it.

My favorite cross-examination theme is from AJ, believe it or not. I love how it starts out slow and mysterious, then picks up speed and volume when Apollo’s about to discover a big truth. It’s also nice how the melody begins on the offbeat. It almost makes me want to dance to it.

I hadn’t thought much about which cross-examination I like best, but I’d probably go with the final confrontation with Furio Tigre. While bluffing is nothing new for Phoenix, it was fun watching him use the supposedly useless evidence that Gumshoe gave him to give his doppelganger a taste of his own medicine. It was one of those moments where I had no idea what his strategy was until Furio opened his huge mouth. After that, it became an “Ooooooh...” kind of moment.

I’d love to see that case ranking you’ve made. Every case has its ups and downs, but it’s fun to explore just what it is about each one that makes it memorable and...odd. Let’s be honest, they all have at least a tiny bit of oddness added in somewhere, am I right?

-Modthorne and Co-Mod

(Hotel Dusk spoilers below)

Oh, man..........oh, MAN!!

Seriously, I can’t remember the last time a game’s story left me this satisfied from beginning to end. To be fair, I just watched a playthrough of it on YouTube, so I might have avoided some potential frustration by not playing it myself, but man... I can tell the developers put some serious heart into that game. The music was delightful, the characters were all very charming, the art and animation style were done in a clever way, and the plot... Man, oh, man.

First of all, there’s the setup: Kyle’s goal in visiting Hotel Dusk (aside from getting a delivery) is established from the very beginning -- finding his former police partner and figuring out why he turned rogue and forced him to nearly kill him. Oddly enough, he has no real proof that visiting the hotel will lead him any closer to finding him -- all he has is a hunch.

Then there’s the way he goes about gathering information. Even as a retired cop, his detective instincts are still keen, and by snooping around the hotel (with some help from his “old buddy” Louis), solving a few puzzles, and asking the right people the right questions, he not only gains tidbits of information about Bradley, but also learns the secrets of the hotel’s residents, and how they and their stories are interconnected. And boy, did some of those connections surprise me.

But here’s what I loved most about the gameplay (and the entire game) -- in order to get the information he needs out of people, he first has to break them down to the point where they not only can’t hide the truth, but they realize how useless it is to keep lying to themselves. In fact, Kyle said it perfectly himself during one of these confrontations:

Whether it’s pressuring a pretend author to admit to his plagiarism, telling the spoiled son of a lawyer how dangerous his revenge scheme is, or convincing a drunk father to appreciate what he still has -- namely, his daughter -- Kyle just won’t put up with lies, even if he has to sound like the rudest person on Earth to dispel every last one of them...and he doesn’t even need the help of a Magatama!

Like every game, of course, this one isn’t without its faults -- the interactive parts are short, there’s very little challenge in picking the right dialogue options (usually just whichever is less annoying), and the language, while not terrible, could’ve been left out -- but the charm of the story and its characters more than makes up for it. Speaking of the story, it seems I was a little off on most of the predictions I made, but at least I was right about Melissa. She didn’t disappoint at being adorable one bit.

Oh, and one more thing -- if anyone reading this feels like playing or watching this game, which I highly recommend, be prepared for your jaw to drop at the very end. It’s that incredible.

And with that, my gushing about this game is over. Thank you for suggesting it, SC!

#jnv11 #anon #Ethan Starbright #55 #Anonymous #Professor Oak #Lachtigall #guquis #Southern Corn #Mod Post #Modthorne #Co Mod

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derkastellan · 4 years

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Review: The Outer Worlds

Seems like I can’t review this Epic Games Store exclusive on Steam yet, nor on gog.com, nor even on Epic itself (though I might have missed something). So let’s do it here.

I played in “Story Mode” (combat easier) and it took me 41 hours to finish the game, including solving all the side quests (”tasks”) I could find to do.

Let me emphasize this is the most bug-free title on release I’ve played in a long, long time. Not a single CTD, no quests I couldn’t complete. Runs smooth on my mid-range gaming rag, no fancy uber-graphics card required. Looking your way, RDR2...

It ain’t as great as “Fallout: New Vegas” (FO:NV from now on) but it is a funny, quirky title and I enjoyed my time in Halcyon.

There will be spoilers.

The game’s loading times are exemplary, fast, and most building interiors have been integrated into the larger game world. Both starting up the game in the first place and

The graphics are nice, colorful, and given that some see these to be the kickoff to something to replace the Fallout series and lure its fans, something new. While a lot of what we see has the mark of decay and failure on it, it is not an almost entirely dystopian wasteland.

Because in “The Outer Worlds” (TOW) there is Hope. Both literally (the name of the missing colony ship you derive from) and implicitly. The vibe of “the world died” is - for good and bad. It is good to not have this hang above your head all the time! I mean, there’s villains, corruption, evil, but the big bad hasn’t already happened. But I noticed one thing... When I play FO:NV or “Fallout 4″ (FO4) little touches can evoke a lot. You find these carefully arranged little scenes that level designers made - two skeletons on a dirty mattress in a bunker, some booze bottles, and maybe one gun, and you get this hunch that somebody didn’t want to face this grim reality of a world that died anymore. And to me, this is missing from TOW. Somehow it’s less emotionally impactful.

What isn’t missing is superb, witty, funny dialogue. In fact, the satirical elements of the game world are top notch, and frankly, the red tape and greed corporate world it depicts is not as far from where we are now than you might wish. Obsidian simply envisioned a world where companies do not have to abide with elections at all or do lobby work, just crank out the propaganda and brainwash them from cradle to grave - chilling, for sure.

You can follow dialogue trees and obtain a lot of information, open up new options through skills. Optimizing for certain builds - like stealth/hacker and personable smooth-talker - will change how the game plays, bypass combat, and give you new options of how to finish missions.

You are usually given choices that range from “I’m the do-gooder”, ”Come the revolution”, “Leave everything as it is”, “What’s in it for me”, to “Fuck you all, I love to mess with you”. Similarly I can easily imagine that the game might tolerate killing pretty much everyone. I didn’t try but I see many quests do not so much depend on people but getting key items and info, I think you could get by by looting the items, using consoles, and solely trading with vending machines. Not my thing but seems at least largely possible.

Choice

Choice is a tricky thing with TOW. You see, this being an Obsidian game, they couldn’t leave choice out. It’s just... clumsy at times, forced.

In FO:NV you start the game in Good Springs (IIRC) and get to side with the villagers or with the Powder Gangers. You get to do various things to beef yourself and your allies up and end up with the showdown with your choices impacting how it goes. You can even walk away and ignore it, shoot everyone, whatever.

This video sums the game design choices regarding, well, choice up very well in the first round about seven minutes when it comes to FO:NV and FO4. It’s the difference between “hey, you chose your path” and “you shoot dese guys, dey be bad” pretty much.

TOW falls clumsily in between. In the end, the game is propelled by its missions. It’s not per se a “wander around” game. There are few optional locations that only feature in side quests. I think Fallbrook on Monarch you don’t have to visit, for example. Well, that’s a bit unfair, I guess. If you wanted to skip through the game you probably can ignore almost everything on the Monarch moon colony. And I think you could solve your “I have no energy coupling” problem in the Emerald Vale probably by going in, taking it, and shooting the opposition? Not entirely sure. At the least you go straight to the Geothermal plant and back and you’re done.

So, how much you meander and what tasks you take on and how you chose to solve them is mostly on you. You get to chose which factions you side with and which ones you chose to piss off.

And yet...

Switch off one colony, you must

The first mission or first part of your main mission forces “choice” down your throat. You have to shit on one faction. Period. And it seemed forced. To repair one space ship you have to disable one of two colonies? Really? It is both a weak choice and weak writing. I mean ships are seen in the sky over Edgewater. Why can’t I loot their power MacGuffin?

And it is largely a no-choice as well. Spacer’s Choice is running the colony into the ground, why leave them in charge? They realized this - and let Parvati offset this with a purely emotional plea. So they add this additional hurdle you have to pass over to essentially do the right thing. In a way. Because you cannot do anything about the hard-headed heartlessness of the woman leading the Deserters. So you have the choice between two assholes, essentially. The endgame titles for this choice are especially galling. People will die because of your choice - or else your mission never starts. It has a bit of a negadungeon feel about it...

Of course this makes for some “edgy” choice, right? No easy rights and wrongs? Fair enough. Except the choice is forced by nothing else but your own need to get out of there. The stakes of the two parties in the end do not matter. I find it fair that no ideal choice exists - this is what makes it one of the true dilemma choices of the game - but maybe it should not have been under such a weak, flimsy pretense to begin with.

Phineas

Another choice you can make several times during the game and eventually have to make is whether to turn Phineas in. I cannot imagine why you would do it, but it is a choice, right? Even if you try not to turn it in, he gets captured in the end. It becomes a choice of no consequence because the plot is on rails. It might change how Phineas feels about you and some epilogue, I guess, but it is largely without impact.

They also paint Phineas increasingly grey to justify this. He let people die - horribly - to save you. Ironically you are offered the same choice - you can let the suspended colonists in the Board labs die to get as much MacGuffin gas as you can to save the others, making you equivalent to Phineas and his “the end justifies the means” choice. But again, an empty choice. I doubt you would end up reviving all the colonists if you took that option, so besides making you feel bad: no consequence.

Since Phineas is so central to the plot he is the only character, I think, with true and literal plot armor. He only talks to you from behind bulletproof glass. I guess they wanted to avoid that trigger-happy psycho players can’t finish the game.

One world at a time

The game never truly turns into open world (but also was never advertised as such by the devs, to be fair). You unlock one location after another. I only missed out on one of them - the landing pad of the Board stooge I ended up shooting later.

You go from Emerald Value to the Groundbraker to Rosewater to Monarch to Byzantium to the Hope to Tartarus. (Schedule some visits in Phineas’ lab on the way.) You unlock optionally Scylla and two space stations. You might bypass Amber Heights and Fallbrook in terms of major settlements. And that is the game. (I think people put the main quest at 20 hours and given I did all I could conceive of in 41 that seems reasonable.)

The unfolding of the world is on rails. (Again, it was not advertised as open world.) FO:NV also had a “recommended” order. But you could rush past most of it. It was just gated behind danger, not impossible. Here you get no choice. You will see roughly 50% of the game by default - which is fair, but not terribly big. TOW, the planets themselves, seem small. You can deviate from the main path, but not much.

Again, nothing else was promised, but we all know this game is here to capture the Fallout fans - made by the FO:NV studio and with Fallout creators as leads... you can’t ignore that when evaluating the game. It was in the ads. And I never triggered the endgame in FO:NV because I was busy exploring its world (though it seemed good) and I never triggered the endgame in FO4 because frankly it seemed stupid to begin with and I was busy exploring its world.

Not so in TOW. I ran out of stuff to do. This is where choice is in chosing to explore. Exploration involves being lured off the beaten path or chosing to do out of curiosity. The game encourages small exploration by hiding stuff in every nook and cranny possible. Also, since monsters don’t wander, you have all the time in the world to explore those nooks and crannies once you’ve killed the area monsters...

Are there major things to be gained by chosing to explore? I would say no, unless you define “exploring” as “doing all the sidequests” - which it is not. Did I find interesting story details by walking around beyond quests? Not really. I found a dead miner and an excavation robot on Scylla. But no real info. No story. I have found a remote location beyond Cascadia on Monarch, but my reward for slaughtering myself past the biggest beasties? A meaningless location marker that I cannot fast-travel to, no explanation, and some free ammo. Basically enough to replace the one I spent.

All the hidden science weapons are quests. I did not find them valuable in spite of putting science in them, but you can “easily” seek them out should you chose to. The one on the Groundbreaker was the hardest to get to and I fell to death twice in getting another one - the only in-game deaths I ever had.

TOW does not expand on story through exploration, simply not. You can miss out on story by not reading all datapads that are in your way, though.

Killer lottery

Now there is another mission that lacks any real choice and has a weak design, wasting its impact needlessly. There is an “Early Retirement” lottery where it is almost instantly clear that this is some dystopian BS. My only question was if they would be turned to Soylent Green or not.

You end up entering a room where people who are “winners” end up being shot by killer drones. Given my own body count at this time in the story hardly shocking, more like lazy and shoddy. No impact.

And then you get to do nothing about it! You can tell a person about it or you can fool somebody out of spite to also get killed, but not a single line of dialogue appears anywhere to apply a consequence to having done the quest. You cannot shut it down - unless shooting the drones count - and you cannot hunt down the people responsible. You do not learn whodunnit and you do not get the satisfaction to avenge these people. It is just a mood piece, and a badly made one.

You could reason you ultimately get the responsibles in the end, but the game does not facilitate you here.

Oh, and if you leave Dr Chartrand alive, you are supposed to talk to Phineas, but no impact on the epilogue, no dialogue line with Phineas. Somebody got to code that?

No (real) consequences

If you opt to thaw up the Hope’s crew you solve all of the colony’s problems. So simply going through with everything Phineas suggested yields a happy end. You can walk the straight path with the default choice and end up none the worse.

What good points are there then to joining with the Board, giving in to your doubts, etc? The colony will slowly prosper and no price is being paid for chosing the most common part. Can I improve on this by playing differently? I don’t feel so.

Let’s see how FO:NV compares - you can hand the Mojave to different factions and the endgame outcomes are really different. There is no by-default good choice. Even if you paint Phineas as grey he is the good guy. A flawed good guy but the person that keeps events in motion.

Do I really care enough about the other options to see them played out? Probably not. Definitely not. I can watch that on YouTube eventually.

There were some consequences to my actions, though. The factions I helped that were not in bed with the Board ended up helping me in the endgame confrontation. Due to the poor handling of friendly fire when it comes to NPC allies I had to reload because I accidentally shot an ally and now had double as many enemies against me. Thanks for helping. Really.

But I liked the touch - Groundbreaker Mardets, Iconoclasts, and MSI troopers all joined me at some point. I felt the faction reputation made at least some sense. I was worried it was only good for discounts at this point...

So, the choices you make will influence the epilogue somewhat, rebates you get, close off some quests, and generate some help in endgame. I guess this is fair but not excellent.

Fridge logic and verisimilitude

In order to justify the whole second half of the plot the colony will starve if things are left as they are. There is a major plot hole here, several actually.

First of all - the colony did not starve in 70 years. How can you not starve in 70 years if there is a problem with the nutrients? Are we to assume that for 70 years actual starvation was held off by supplementing with foods from Earth and other colonies? If this were true, people would need to be near-death and starving already, emaciated. Or is it a matter of a certain stockpile running out?

The whole thing seems weak. It justifies why nobody thawed up the additional mouths but creates more problems than it solves.

But most of the game time what irked me more was nonsensical asset reuse. Why are there weak-ass marauders on Monarch? They should be eaten in no time. Same for canids. The planet is supposedly a hellhole and admittedly full of Mantiqueens and Raptisaurs. So who are these people camping out somewhere in the hellscape without resorting at least to the safety of some buildings? Buildings in comparison where almost always safe spots with no enemies in them. You won’t surprise marauders having lunch - they’re too busy hanging out at intersections!

I also don’t get how Primals came to Scylla. They give the planetoid a distinct feel but what do they eat? Where did they come from? Maybe I missed that...

Short on Western

And finally almost all of the settlements and outposts I came across failed. No sturdy settlers sticking it out, no siree! (Except for the cannibal family.) They all huddle together in the few main places. No distant shack with a crazy coot. No (alive) hunters camping out on Monarch. No small places where we stick it out even if it’s bad idea because we do have gumption.

Also, you don’t get to roam. A western would be about roaming - like in RDR2. (Haven’t played it yet but this quality of just going out and riding around is attracting me to it. That was the damn best thing in “GTA: San Andreas”: Getting on a harley and riding the land once you unlock it.) Here you turn a corner and find a collection of enemies. There is no freedom. The world looks and sounds like steampunk scifi western but the underlying archetypes of westerns are missing, except for some hick accents.

Things look like in a western but the world itself... is basically a series of failed and near-failed settlements. Even if you can improve on all that ultimately and there is hope you encounter a dystopia while you try to do so. Westerns aren’t usually dystopian. Scifi sure often is! But even a Scifi western like the original Star Wars was full of people, outposts, and what not. People in TOW are not eking out an existence on the frontier. They all clearly have already failed so:

Edgewater: All outposts failed, even the hunting camp needed to feed the “Saltuna” factory has been abandoned. The only other settled location is the - “abandoned” - Botany Station.

The Groundbreaker: You can prevent it from collapsing altogether.

Rosewater: Well, the labs went all to shit and the place is overrun by raptisaurs. They just fought off an attack that might have killed them all.

Scylla: Major settlement eradicated.

Monarch: People in Stellar Bay are scared. Amber Heights is failing. Only Fallbrook thrives. Cascadia ended up completely eradicated.

Byzantium: Rich town, facade breaking down, though. Can’t even keep their maintenance up.

So, where do people actually live? You never get to know. But you sure do your part in breaking down one of the last settlements to survive...

The charm, the wit, the warmth

Now, I ranted a lot about what threw me off. But the game is full of characters you end up liking, dialogue that makes you laugh, things you end up caring about. I mean, you even start to collect little stuff that begins to decorate your ship, gradually changing it as you progress. The experience is not sterile and your ship becomes a home where your small family hangs out.

I even did a hard pass on one of the six available companions because I did not want him around. I didn’t know I could have them all but frankly I did like him. It’s hard to gauge how big the game will be when you play it, and I would have wanted more of it to be sure.

But you cannot stuff just more in. More would inevitably at some point lessen it. At some point quantity inevitably replaces quality. And the companions I had I cared about. I wanted to help Parvati even though I question somebody needing several thousand bits and a visit to three different difficult-to-reach locations to just have a date in a world gone mad, but in the end I was glad to have done it. Her bubbling, quirky personality was believable and charming.

Similarly, I never did a mission without Ellie as soon as I got her. No matter who you talk to, no matter who else is there, Ellie brings out quality quips and wit all the time, even to whoever else is in the party. She’s too cool to be true and that’s fine with me. Shame she didn’t get more of a second mission to herself. She remains closed off as her character seems to be.

Nyoka is also memorable though her companion quest suffers from cheap emotional impact. Why two expert hunters who can survive on Monarch would die near Edgewater is a mystery, but hey, but five graves and Nyoka surviving them all is what the simple heartstrings narrative wanted. We never get to really challenge her on her alcoholism, which is lame, and she never limits her intake, but maybe that’s actually realistic. And I can abide with that.

Now Felix and SAM obviously can’t keep up with that but they round out the choices. I was very surprised to end up with a crew of three interesting females, Felix was almost an afterthought. They all end up distinct with lots dialogues. You may guess whom the devs liked best by seeing how Felix essentially got only one spaceship mood scene to himself where there’s plenty of interaction with the girls and among each other.

Conclusion

TOW asks valid questions. It has a good story, it has great NPCs, and I love the party. It falls short on other counts, mostly to do with choice, verisimilitude, and exploration. It is a solid game, it is bug free, it was fun to play. I doubt it offers much replay value.

Thing is... these qualities. Good dialogue, good voice-acting, being essentially bug-free... these go down the drain the more content you produce. I never finished “Torment: Tides of Numenera” because I got bored with it. It was big and seemingly dragging on. And in places it simply showed that some of the level designers did not get the memo. (The memo being: “There are no combat XP in Numenera.”)

Not so in TOW. It seems to be made out of one piece, solid, consistent in what it does. A few quests seem kinda unfinished or loose in Byzantium, ending rather abruptly, but you never stand somewhere and say “This doesn’t fit with the rest.” It does reveal a lot of stuff on terminals and datapads, but I guess this way they could get quality voice acting where it mattered and fill out the background blanks elsewhere. The balance works. It sometimes does a tiny bit of “Fallout 76″ in that you often end up chasing datapads and consoles to piece together stories about all the dead people. But since you enact with plenty of varied NPCs it doesn’t matter so much. It not only has some, it has plenty!

It’s also a decent RPG shooter. Choices of weapon matter. You can sneak, in fact it gets so easy with a modest skill in the end that I accidentally walked into enemies without engaging sneak mode because they did not notice me or stay asleep. It will probably not register as a great stealth game even by far, but it does some of it. I somehow finished the game without triggering a companion ability, I have to say. Wish you could set them to do it on their own, actually.

Will this be remembered as a classic? Probably not. Maybe it will. But it puts forward enough stuff to maybe establish a new series. If so, the next installment will have to be more substantial.

Liked it, sometimes loved it.

PS - In watching some reviews now that I finished it I must say I seem overly critical of the game. I enjoyed it but at the latest on Monarch the game kind of wore on me. Long stretches of wilderness that vary the same enemies. There’s often no empty places, no interesting interactions with alien flora and fauna. Just stuff to kill, destroyed sites to explore.

There’s some variation, there’s some cool moments when you look up and see spaceships passing before the gas giant in the sky. But since most of the time you have your nose to the ground it doesn’t seem all the spacey to me. Might go for a real space game next.

All in all I have waited for a long time for this one to get out. I feel like I finished it too soon and yet it was also good to be done because it had played out what it would like to play out. There were no big mid-game surprises, really. From Byzantium onward the story was clear and also quality slowly went down. It seems like from there on there were less ideas and the rails became narrower. At least Byzantium required some non-violent challenges to reach your goals, so did the Hope. They ended up being repetitive as well.

All in all, my interest in TOW started to fade after the first week, and I noticed that and was annoyed by it. It is a quality game, I won’t fault it for going a long way towards providing a good experience. But mid- and endgame the pace suffers and the game goes on about how difficult and impossible things are that really aren’t. I cake-walked over Monarch most of the time but was thrown off by the game’s attempts to insist stuff is hard. (Yes, I was in story mode but the game’s insistence on talking up stuff that actually is a regular challenge in midgame is annyoing.)

Tons of cool stuff in this one, but also missed chances. I want me some exploration and some deeper choices. That was so cool about FO:NV. You don’t need to save everybody from a catastrophy. You fix the winner of a major world-changing battle, and it can even be you! That was a game about choice. TOW is a game that emulates choice at times. All rails lead to the endgame, everywhere. But TOW’s are too visible for my taste.

Yes, I am spoiled. I complain about good games like “Disco Elysium” or TOW that I actually enjoyed. But come on, industry! Impress me, hook me! I’m waiting...

#reviews #the outer worlds #obsidian #fallout #sci fi roleplay #rpg #science fiction

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celiocian-blog · 7 years

Text

And How’s Your Monday Going?

I told you people I would write. Here’s this POS I wrote for a contest for school.

You know, I’m not a fan of people. They can be a real bunch of bastards. Going around killing, stealing, breaking hearts. I know what you’re thinking - one of these things is not like the other. But it is just as serious. When a heart shatters, that’s all a person can think about for at least a solid week. How you want the one that did it to suffer as much as you, how you want them completely obliterated from the face of the planet…

Breakups are hard. Emotions are painful. And people strive to destroy your emotions, every last ounce of humanity a person may have. And yet, it is still a human pastime. Why? We still don’t know. Humans are cruel beings. And I want the heart of the man that did it-

Well. Ain’t that a load of shit. Sure, I agree with the people info, but goddamn, quit listening to the classical music while you type. You’re gonna die of a busted heart from somebody that didn’t even exist. Creepy freak.

I sat up from lounging across my couch, or at least tried my hardest to. Thing was sinking bad, but what can you do? Being a bachelor isn’t a life of glitz and gold. And glitter. I think glitter should be in that sentence too. It’s sparkly and all that jazz. At least I have time to read, if you call that depressing dreck a piece of literature. Either way, I snapped the book shut and tossed it halfway across the room, barely missing the cat.

Sorry, Sinbad. But you shouldn't be in the center of the room. Quit licking your ass while you’re at it.

I hopped up and brought my arms into the air, bending my back backwards in a lackluster attempt to remove the kinks from my spinal column. Nearly freaking snapped my spine at the sudden damn car horn, though. Mofos need to learn to drive in this damned city, don’t want a Buick driving through the front wall.

I tossed my old shirt that I slept in across the room and made a lazy beeline towards my bedroom, in other words, my closet. Not much was bound to be in there, though. Probably needed to do laundry - shit kept popping up all the damn time. The very fact that I had any work-acceptable dress shirts was in and of itself a miracle gracing the face of the planet.

To be honest, dress shirts and khakis with ties are some of the plainest shit known to man. Seriously, at least let us wear jeans or something, goddamn. And the ties, God, the ties, those freaking fashionable nooses. And I have to do this all in the god-forsaken morning, you fucking asshole boss.

Okay, maybe he’s not too big an asshole, but still. He makes us get up in the morning. But he did give me that raise… And the whole living situation thing… But still! Morning!

Okay, scratch that. I just complain about a lot of shit. Mornings included. Goddamn, do I hate mornings.

After a few select curses, I eventually find those ugly ass pants and pull them on, moaning and groaning the entire time that I do. It’s cold in the room, which means these nuthuggers are just as freakin' cold. Then again, it’s New York in late November. What else is to be expected? I guess this means I need to invest in a better trenchcoat for the the winter season. Or a parka. Just something warmer than the piece of cloth I have now.

I feel kinda guilty turning the heat on in the apartment. It’s technically not mine, after all. Then whose is it, you ask? My boss’s. Soooooo… Yeah. Not an asshole. Needed a place to stay post-divorce and he offered up his apartment for when he had late nights. Nice and fully furnished at least, but it’s creepy sleeping in my boss’s bed. Hence the couch.

After a whirlwind of clothes and tripping over random shit, I finally began my trek to work. Pros of being in this apartment: close to work. Cons: close to work. Well, could be worse. Like I said, my boss is nice and my coworkers are the same for the most part. I’m head of IT so I have to deal with stupidity a lot, but most everyone is pretty competent. Mostly.

Grabbing my phone before heading out probably would’ve been a mistake if not for the fact that I desperately needed it. Apparently, some freaking person decided to call and leave a voicemail! Who the fuck does that anymore? Does anyone even remember their voicemail password besides me? I think not!

Popping in the quadruple digit code brought me to the box itself. “You have one new message from Neil.” Neil? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If there was anyone’s voice I didn’t want to hear, it was Neil’s. He was probably still aiming to take all my money and my video games and my cat and by god, I was not going to let that happen.

Manning up the best I could, I pressed the button to listen to the message. Maybe he decided to be civil. “Hey, Baxter, I need to talk to you. Just some stuff here that I figured you might like that I think you left by accident. A few books, a picture or two. Your rings are still here, too. Maybe we could meet up for coffee at that place you like and talk about it.”

He was quiet for a moment, probably trying to think of some way to lure me back to him. “Anyway, um, I hope you’re doing well. The flat’s pretty quiet without you and Sinbad.” He laughed softly, in that way that made me melt when I was still naive. “I still love you. If you ever want t0 think about getting back together, I’m here-”

I hung up and quickly deleted the message, giving myself a moment to catch my breath. There was no way in hell that I would be going back to that ass, not after everything he did to me these past three years. I was done with him. I swallowed down what little ounce of a panic attack that was trying to creep its way in and left the apartment.

Having been raised New York, hiking through snow is an easy yet still interesting thing to do. Boots are your friend and you should always hunch forwards to move your center of gravity. Make sure to make a pissed off face, too, to get everyone out of your way. It scares people and makes them more intimated. I’ve since mastered this fine art of resting bitch face-ery, especially today after that fucking moment dealing with fuck his face Neil. At least, I thought I had mastered it, but the guy I bumped into, whoo boy. He really took the cake.

Imagine as pretty a face a man can have - full pouty lips, long eyelashes, dark blue eyes that nearly fucking pierced into your soul… And the most annoyed scowl I had ever seen in my life. Like, parts of the guy’s face looked mid twenties, others looked pushing on thirty. He stood in front of my office building, tip tap typing away on his cell phone like a goddamn teenage girl and scaring people off with the RBF that only the gods could have granted. Bet he was a prick to talk to.

I made very sure to whistle the Kill Bill whistle as I walked into the building. By god, I was going to make Mr. Shit Face aware of his own existence to everyone around him. Only, I guess I didn’t expect him to follow after me inside. Was he gonna kill me? Shit, maybe the whistle really was a bad idea. If I get murdered, I’m gonna be pissed.

I resisted the urge to spin a few times through the revolving doors before being met with the way too fancy lobby. This was supposed to be a charity, right? Especially those fancy-ass elevators which I made a bee-line for, immediately forgetting the whistle… Only for it to be slammed shut in front of me. Stairs it is, but hey, maybe the excruciating pain in my legs will null out the excruciating pain in my heart.

I turned the corner around the elevator and found the rarely used stairs door. I mean, seriously people. Why do stairwells all look the same? All concrete and bland and prison-slash-highschool looking. I scowled to myself and began making my way up, trying desperately to not trip while walking up the stairs.

Okay, he was following me to and up the stairs. Maybe I should’ve taken the elevator today, after all. Still not too skippy of this guy stalking after me as if he was going to kill me. Both of us up two floors, three floors, four floors. What the fuck? The hell is this guy trying to do? I really wasn’t entertained with the idea of the last person’s voice I had listened to being Neil’s.

I scrambled through the door that led to my floor and this FUCK was still following me! Goddammit, time to man up twice in one day! I spun around to him as he walked through and stared him down (awkwardly, yet literally… he was a couple inches shorter than me). “H-Hey! You got a bone to pick with me or something?”

He blinked and tilted his head to the side an inch, causing a dark lock of curly hair to fall. Wait, don’t tell me I jumped to conclusions. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. “Pardon?”

Wait, what? Was he seriously not going after me? Did I really just jump to conclusions? Maybe this divorce was getting to me head… Goddammit, was that a blush coming to my cheeks and I am not a smart man. “You were following me! What do you want from me?!”

He kept on with the owl-eyed stare before slowly shaking his head, his lips curling into a tiny smile. Goddammit, I did jump to conclusions. Fuck me sideways-

Aaaaaaand he’s gone crazy. Interrupting me from my mental scolding was him suddenly bursting out into this weird fit of laughter. And by fit, I mean full on, eyes closed and watering, hand over mouth, practically at a right angle he’s hunched over so much fit. Goddammit, I was not funny. And that was not funny.

Not that I could actually get around to protesting because the moment I came out of my shocked stupor, his laughter was winding down. Stupid little grin still plastered to his stupid little face, he reached up and pat my shoulder. “Thanks for that. I really needed it after what I went through this morning.” And with that, he walked off! That stupid little prick just disappeared into the distance, off to whatever department he worked for!

Wait. What department did he work for? Now that I think about it, I don’t think i had ever seen him around before. And this may be a big company, but I usually recognize people that work here. But nope, this guy was a brand spanking new hire. Obviously not IT, I didn’t have to deal with the interview process.

Whatever, I’d probably be getting an email begging me to fix his new computer. “Help me!” he’d say. “I’m stupid with computers!” Ahhh, aren’t they all? And that, ladies and gents is why I have job security.

I made damn sure to avoid every desk I could see, trying my hardest to not be spotted for some sort of tech help. It was like a weird game of hide and seek. Except being caught would lead to you being miserable for the next hour. Yay work.

Long story short, I made it past the hoards of sheeple to my office and plopped right down in my chair, turning on my computer in hopes of a lack of emails. Apparently, the boss man decided to be nice to everyone because they was only one in the inbox and the subject was “New Hire.” Yay, home team! I get to figure out who bug face is!

I leaned forward into my hand with my elbow on the desk (probably like you are right now) and skimmed through. Blah blah blah, recent hire, blah blah blah, be nice, blah blah blah, oh look, name! Apparently this guy was named “Isidore Elijay.” That was certainly a hell of a name.

Now to check and see where he was working. I don’t remember anyone saying they were looking for new hires recently, maybe he was just an intern. But then again, he looked too old to be one. God, come on, email, enough with this fluff!

Wait.

Does that say what I think it says?

“Isidore has been hired as my new personal assistant. Hence, I certainly expect you to give him the utmost respect.”

Awwww, shit.

#writing #my writng #Baxter #Codename: IDK #first person

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markandthemorons · 5 years

Text

Two more sessions in one!

As the group look at the shadows and bounty board they are approached by a Goliath wearing a duster. He asks what bounty the group are looking at before tearing the ‘Little Girl (Tusr) missing’ bounty and claiming it is his.

During this Lucien is almost shackled but gets away with it. Offhandedly mentioning you had a bounty on you in front of a bounty hunter is a questionable career choice!

The group plus ‘Trigger’ decide to work together but head off to the groups tavern, ‘With-A-Fork’ first. They walk the hour there and note that there seems to be a shadow in the air, between the tavern and the warehouse they were attacked in. Heroically deciding to nope the hell out of there they go to their tavern and simply state that they are leaving and will be some time, and then walk away again. Trigger is confused as they walk all the way back to Goblin Steves, where they just were.

They go to Steves and he seems to be hammering wood to the floor over a trap door. Some discussion later and it turns out what he sells are actually goblin goods, because he sends people down the trapdoor into a cave complex that houses goblins, and they steal from them. Somewhat questioning the ethics of stealing from evil goblins they are asked if they can go down and deal with some of them by Steve, and eventually say yes when told that the caves lead to the swamps, where the little girl was last seen.

Climbing down through the trapdoor there are some falls and minor injuries. Trigger gets annoyed at Steve and shoots at the closing trapdoor. A cry of “AGH THEY HAVE SOMETHING DANGEROUS” and “oh no my assistant!” are heard.

They begin to move forward and find some goblins quite fast, but they also notice the goblins are facing off against a large demonic baboon. One runs off, and the party quickly moves in and dispatches the goblins before noticing the baboon is now a rather fancy sounding humanoid shape. It’s clearly a demon though, and the group move to take a route out before being told that it’s the wrong way.

The way the demon is blocking is the right way, much faster, They want to find the girl right? Not learning from past lives they decide to trust the demon. At least I can’t accuse them of meta-gaming!

A long walk down some thin corridors is very goblin free except for some corpses they find. Three goblins are skewered by something large (A SPEAR MAYBE?!) while another it seems has been cut in half by a whip. They carry on but find a warforged stuck in a wall. It seems to not want to move and refuses to let any of the party touch them, soon sinking into the wall. Trigger follows it and finds it is an illusion, there is a rather well dressed woman sat on a stool in a nice looking room behind that wall.

Surprise surprise it’s a trap, the woman is actually one of the demons that escaped from the ship. Trigger is charmed into shooting the party but after some trickery and invisibility the figure is killed while still changing it’s appearance at will. The wall is behind them, and is now a real wall. Thankfully some Strength rolls break open a hole, only to find the well spoken demon stood there again. He claims the thing they fought was an ally, up until the point it started fighting.

There is a purple wax sealed letter (image of a snake in the wax) on it’s corpse and some gold. The letter is opened to reveal a message:

“The person who is holding this is to be trusted. Only accept if it is sealed”

Thankfully mending is cast on the wax seal and works, but it turns out the letter itself is magical. No curses though! (yet? :D ) They have no idea who it was written for, though, and the demon isn’t saying anything. He wants the spear and whip found and the party realize the corridors they were walking through were made by something forcing it’s way through. Something big...

Moving on they find a cottage in a perfectly square cave. It’s a figure called Firo. Past lives have met this figure and know it is a time protecting dragon with a sister, the sister promptly appearing at the door huffing and storming off. Looks like Firo has done something wrong that maybe some dead PC’s know about. Oh well!

He sells the group some healing potions with loyalty cards for all before telling them to:

“Find the flame, follow the rust”.

He won’t let them rest in the cottage but gives them a room, by making the cottage and himself disappear and making the perfectly square cave turn into a huge wooden cube.

(new session) The group panic and try to find a way out, especially once some vines burst through the roof. It would seem each wall is a single piece of wood and a Nat 20 attempt to break through reveals it is likely magical.

Somehow simply asking ‘can we get out now’ reveals a door and a staircase up. As people are still resting, Trigger lies in the doorway to stop it disappearing while Lucien goes above ground. It’s the swamp!

There’s a large (Mayan style) pyramid not far from the exit, and it looks to have a fire going outside at a small camp but no-one is there. About halfway up the pyramid is a hole.

Lucien returns, they all rest and then make their way to the pyramid. The fire is still burning but is barely embers at this point, while there is food rotting within the tents. It has been a few days since someone was here it seems but how is the fire still going?

They get to the hole in the pyramid to find it was blown open, Trigger recognises its cause as a black powder explosion (woo guns). The hole leads down into a room, while the group one by one get into. There is a dead gnome face down at the bottom, male with green hair. They get a look at the room and discover it is likely a human tomb from about 700 to 800 years ago.

They go West to find a room with slabs with slight indents in them, walls having holes filled with jars and tools that many players could describe as ‘mortuary tools’. Against a wall there, though, is a human male with broken glasses and graying hair. He has a huge burn mark over his heart that must be from magic. His feet and lower legs are shattered and his arms are shackled to the wall, but by being forced INTO the wall rather than the usual way.

Lucien finds out the slabs have small doors on their sides. Most are empty, one isn’t! Inside is a dead halfling, female. She has been decapitated but more worryingly she is covered in blood and upon inspection was boiled alive. Someone finally gets a good look at the human and realises he has no blood in him, and the slab the halfling was in has dried blood on top.

Trigger finds that the human was dragged from the entrance they climbed down into, and it was likely he fell down hence the shattered legs. The halfling was killed before the human, so he was left to suffer. 2 stars on Trip Advisor.

Going back to the main room and heading North they find another warforged, equally distrusting as the last one but with many notebooks. He mentioned that they were sent as a group to explore here by the Emerald Arcana because ‘it wasn’t here before’, which worries the group. Four of the group entered while the warforged stayed at the camp, but after 2 days they didn’t return so he went to see for himself but got stuck as the rope was too weak to climb back out. This explained the camp being empty and why food was rotting but the fire was not out.

Book 1: Trigger reads. Some basic info. Book 2: Lucien reads. It’s cursed! No-one can understand him now (for 6 hours) as he speaks gibberish. The book mentions “Drums behind the mountains” and a “Maliniss” who has a shadow of death preceding him at all times. Book 3: Varsha reads. Looks blank, but is actually a hidden text that is the warforgeds instruction manual. Book 4: Nip reads, more background info.

The warforged has a self destruct which he decides to use once he becomes fearful of Trigger and acid sprays out of his spine turning him into a pile of metal in moments. He states just before this happens that it is because ‘he knows things that others shouldn’t’. Good times.

Going East they find four rooms, mostly empty. One is empty, one has a dead woman on a bed, clearly stabbed. They learn little else though.

Another has a bag in it, Baern cautiously cuts the bag open and 1000 copper coins fall out. He yells that he dropped his axe to stop others trying to claim some.

The last room has a 4 foot tall cauldron in it, and what looks like a gem at the bottom of it. Trigger ponders getting the gem but decides to place a bit of rope in and it burns very quickly. Grabbing a nail from Baern he dips that in but is forced to drop it onto the stone floor as it sizzles and burns away into a small puddle of molten metal in seconds. A Perception check reveals the gem is painted onto the bottom of the cauldron but this must be where the halfling died. Also, there’s no fire under it, so it is un-naturally boiling.

South reveals 2 women, old, hunched over with long fingers grabbing at a much smaller cauldron. With no pause they attack the women and find a small girl against a wall. Trigger yells Tusr and she instantly looks at him so he is now happy, whether about finding her or the bounty payment I don’t know.

One of the women quickly disappears in a pop and Tusr does so not long after, while the other fights. A surprisingly long fight occurs, at one point Baern tries to lift the cauldron up to throw at the hag. He lifts it but falls backwards with it, thankfully not having his head crushed in the process. Trigger is put to sleep (with an EXACT roll of his health) and Lucien gets some shots into its neck. She dies and another note is found, it is torn with only the letters ‘sxi’ written on it.

They go back and find Tusr by the dead gnome. Trigger makes sure she is ok but doesn’t fully trust her. She is shaken but seems genuine, an attempt to touch her head reveals she is really that height and it isn’t just an illusion. The other woman is nowhere to be seen though. They climb out and realise they still need to get back to Illmere.

#d&d #d&d 5e #campaign diary #dungeons and dragons

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thatcrazyfanfictionwriter · 6 years

Text

Secret of the Sewers: Recurring Nightmares

Casey drove through the warehouse district like a mad man, desperately trying to find Renaissance Motors. He was getting increasingly worried, knowing that every minute he was lost was another minute Hisako was in the hands of those kidnappers. He just had to hope that whoever was at this garage would be able to help him.

As Casey rounded a corner, he spotted the building he needed. Like Hisako had described, it was covered in Japanese letters and turtle shell designs on top of layers of other graffiti. He practically floored it, screeching up to the main door and ditching bike in an instant. He immediately tried to open the door to the garage, only to find the hinges welded shut. Cursing angrily, he turned to the only other door, the main car door. Casey went over to it, pounding on the metal as hard as he could.

"Hello?!" he called, pressing his ear against the door to try and hear if anyone was inside. "Is anyone there?!"

There was no response, not so much as a small rustle of movement. In a desperate motion, Casey tried to force the door up, but it was obviously locked.

"Great, nobody's home..." he cursed.

He slumped against the garage, trying to come up with a plan. That's when a thought struck him. Considering Hisako never talked about having any friends outside of himself and April, then odds are, this was where here brothers could be found. And if they had a secret like Hisako's, which they most likely did, they wouldn't just answer the door for anybody.

"I need to get in there." he muttered, getting back on his feet.

He went over to Hisako's bike, grabbing the keys out of the ignition. There was a second key on the ring, and Casey had a hunch of where it went to. He hunched down in front of the handle of the garage door, inserting the key in the lock.

"Come on, please be the right-" He heard the distinct click and breathed a sigh of the relief. "Goongala."

He pulled the door open, slipping inside and closing the door behind him.

"I know you're in here!" He called, walking slowly around the room. "Please, come out!"

Casey was right, there were people in the garage, but they were making sure that they remained undetected. Hiding in the rafters of the garage, the four turtles looked down at the intruder stalking about their above-ground hideout.

"How did this bozo find us?" Raph hissed at Leo, glaring down at Casey.

"I don't know, Raph." Leo replied.

Casey looked around the Shellraiser as Donny made his way over to Leo and Raph.

"He doesn't look like a Purple Dragon," Donny commented, examining Casey inquisitively. "And he's way too loud to be a Motorhead."

Mikey swung across the rafters, approaching Leo with a worried look on his face.

"Guys, he has the shell cycle." he whispered.

The brothers all froze, then slid across the beams until they could see out a small window at the top of the garage. Sure enough, the shell cycle was lying on its side, abandoned by their new intruder.

"Where did he get that?" Leo questioned.

"Let's find out." Raph growled.

Before any of his brothers could protest, Raph jumped down from the rafters, landing silently behind Casey. The teen barely heard the sound of Raph drawing one of his sai, but he sure felt the cold tip pressing against the back of his neck. He froze as the red turtle snarled.

"You have exactly two seconds to tell me who you are, and what the shell you're doing with that bike!"

Casey remained still, his heart racing from fear. Still, he gulped, forcing it down as he answered.

"N-names Casey. Casey Jones"

"Isn't that the name of a train conductor?" Mikey asked, earning him a smack on the head from Donnie.

"Mikey this is serious!" he scolded.

"Sorry." Mikey apologized.

The tip of Raph's sai began to dig a bit deeper into Casey's neck.

"That answers the first question." Raph sneered. "But I still haven't heard a decent excuse for having that bike!"

"My friend Hisako, she told me to take it." Casey explained.

"And why would she do that?" Leo asked, joining his brothers on the ground.

"Because she didn't have a choice." Casey answered

There was a sudden rustle of motion, then Casey had a blade underneath his throat and the end of a staff pointed at him by a shadowy figure. Just in the darkness, Casey could make out someone twirling a set of nunchuks. Casey gulped.

"Bad choice of words." he muttered to himself.

Raph was seconds away from spearing Casey through the neck, but even the hothead knew that they needed more info before they could act. Knowing Raph was probably holding himself back by mere margins, Leo took over the questioning.

"Why didn't she have a choice?" he demanded. "Did you threaten her?"

Casey's eyes went wide.

"No!" he immediately shouted. "I would never-!"

He took a deep breath, regaining himself. Getting worked up would probably just get him killed, and then Hisako would be trapped.

"No." he said softer this time. "I'm her friend. I work at Mario Brother's Pizzeria. I would never hurt her."

"Then where is she?" Leo asked.

Casey fell silent, praying his captor wouldn't kill him after his next three words.

"I don't know."

Raph snapped. Tossing his Sai aside, he grabbed Casey and spun him around. Before anyone could intervene, he had the boy pinned to the wall, held up by the straps of his shirt and his golf bag. Unfortunately, by doing so, he had stepped into the little light provided by the boarded up windows. Casey's eyes went wide as he stared at the red turtle, partially out of fear, but mostly out of shock at what he saw.

"Whaddya mean ya don't know?!" Raph demanded. "You tell us where our sisters is, or I will beat the ever living shell outta-!"

"Raph!" The other three turtle shouted

Raph turned to them, and then noticed where he was standing. He blinked, then slowly released Casey, letting him fall to the ground.

"Oh shell..." the turtle swore.

"Yeah." Donny commented. "Way to go."

"You just blew our cover!" Leo chastised. "And now look, you've terrified the one person who could tell us where Hisako is!"

As the four brothers went off on one another, Casey slowly got to his feet, trying to process what he was seeing.

Okay… he thought to himself. Hisako's brothers… are turtles… with ninja weapons… alright then…

Knowing every second counted, Casey forced the flood of questions into the back of his mind and straightened himself. Turtles or not, if they were Hisako's brothers, and if they had any of the training that she had shown, he would be a fool not to ally with them.

"Umm, look." he called.

The four turtles all turned to Casey.

"I don't know what's going on, but what I do know is that Hisako is in danger, and she needs help." he continued, looking straight at the turtles.

Donny stepped forward, figuring he was the most rational of the brothers at the moment.

"Tell us what happened." He said.

Casey took a deep breath and began talking.

"These guys came to the restaurant pretending to be cops, but after testing them, i knew they were fakes so I waited for Hisako to come and I warned her, but unfortunately I was unable to keep her safe for too long, which forced her to tell me about her psychic powers and her past with some creepy secret lab." He paused just long enough to take another breath before continuing. "After that, she gave me the key to her bike and told me to come here and get help because those creeps in motorcycle helmets and the gigantic wall of muscle were after her and only her, and she was right because I was able to get away so I could find you and get help."

Donny held up a hand, stopping Casey there. Leo came closer, looking at the purple turtle.

"Did you get any of that Don?" he asked.

"Yeah." Mikey remarked. "He was talking faster than an auctioneer."

Donny nodded.

"You mentioned guys in motorcycle helmets." he said to Casey. "Were they dressed in all black and did they carry any unconventional weapons?"

"If by unconventional, you mean frikken swords and throwing stars, then yes." Casey nodded.

The turtles all exchanged worried looks.

"It was Hun and those Motorheads." Leo realized.

"They took Hisako." Raph remarked. "Do you think it could be because…"

“No way.” Donny interrupted, though his voice was a bit shaky. “That guy thinks she’s dead. Leatherhead said so.”

Casey let out a cough, drawing the turtles’ attentions once more

"Remember when I said she told me about the creepy secret lab?" He asked them, "The freaks that took her… they kept calling her Oracle, the same name she was called back there."

The turtles all froze, their collective stomachs plummeting. The turtles still holding weapons all let them clatter to the ground, feeling as though all the strength had left their bodies. Leo’s breath became ragged as his fists clenched tightly

“Shell!” Leo screamed, punching a support column behind him.

…

The pungent smell of antiseptics filled Hisako's nose as she slowly regained consciousness. As she opened her eyes, she was nearly blinded by the sheer whiteness of her surroundings. She could hear the faint beeping of a heart rate monitor off to the side, as well as the sound of a camera zooming in on her.

Looking down at herself, Hisako found that she was laid out on a cold, metal table, once that was currently tilted at a 45 degree angle. Thick, leather straps restraining her at every joint, even around her neck. Her clothing had been replaced with an all too familiar hospital gown. She could also feel cold air passing over her head, and knew instantly her hair was gone.

It was Hisako's worst nightmares all over again. She was back. They had her again. The crippling fear took hold of her and she could hear her own pulse on the monitor suddenly skyrocket. It was that frantic beeping that allowed her to focus, pushing past the fear that threatened to swallow her whole. She couldn’t allow herself to be consumed. She needed to figure out a way out, before He came for her.

In that moment, the clear Plexiglas window that served as the door to Hisako's 'room' hissed as it opened. Hisako looked up to see the figure that had haunted her nightmares all her life. Any hope she’d held of escaping evaporated the second he stepped into her cell, every footstep making her jump.

"Ah, look who finally decided to wake up." Stockman greeted in his typical cocky fashion. "I must say it is so wonderful to have you back with us. I was so heartbroken to hear you had perished at the hands of Project Leatherhead. When your survival was confirmed, I couldn't contain my excitement."

Hisako stared at the man, not saying a word. No matter how terrified she was, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of begging for mercy. Stockman noticed this silent defiance and chuckled darkly.

"It would seem that four years on your own has strengthened more than your body." he remarked. "I will enjoy breaking your spirits once again. And this time, there is nobody to come and rescue you."

Hisako’s desperate mind latched onto the word rescue, reminding her that she wasn’t alone anymore. Images of her brothers, her father, and Leatherhead flooded her vision, strengthening her resolve. She clenched her fists tightly.

"You’re wrong…" she whispered, forcing her voice to sound braver then she was. "My brothers will find me…"

"Your brothers?" Stockman interrupted. "You mean those overgrown turtles you associate yourself with? I must admit, I was intrigued to learn there were mutants outside of my research. Perhaps I can examine them once they're caught."

Hisako's breath hitched at the thought of her brothers suffering at the hands of Stockman. She started pulling against her restraints with increased vigor. Stockman watched this for a minute, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a small remote with a red button. Hisako stopped mid-struggle at the sight of it.

"I see you still remember what this device does."

Hisako was now vividly aware of the electrodes attached to her head. With a sadistic smile, Stockman jammed his finger down on the button. It was as if every nerve in Hisako's body was now on fire. Everything hurt. She screamed in pain, pulling against her restraints as Stockman just watched. After a moment, he released the button, allowing Hisako to sag in her chair. Tears were streaming down her face as she tried to regain her breath.

"While I would usually advise against any disobedience or futile escape attempts, I would love for you to keep fighting me. Give me a reason to use this again."

Hisako looked up at Stockman, a strange green glow appearing in her eyes, one that had never appeared before, at least not in the time that Stockman had known her. Glancing over at the brain-wave monitor on the wall, Stockman could see increased activity. He smirked, giving Hisako a smug look.

"Attempting to use your powers on me?" he asked. "What are you going to do? Make me see your little red slide show? Or maybe you'll try and guess what number I'm thinking of."

Hisako just took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. All of a sudden, her head shot back and her eyes closed. Her brain activity went off the charts, then went basically flat lined. Stockman blinked, looking at the monitor, then down at Hisako. His self-assured grin slowly faded, replaced by an angry scowl.

"Forcing yourself into a coma." he snarled. "Clever girl."

He walked through the still open door, where about three doctors stood waiting.

"Wake her up." he ordered. "By any means necessary."

The doctors nodded, then walked into the room, the transparent door sealing behind them.

…

Splinter and Leatherhead sat at the dining room table, the both of them enjoying a cup of tea while they waited for the breakfast pizzas. Leatherhead had unfortunately broken a few mugs with his grip, but luckily, there were a few metal cups that were not so easily destroyed.

"This… is the best thing… I have ever tasted." Leatherhead said softly.

Splinter just smiled, nodding a 'you're welcome'. In that moment, the unmistakable sound of bodies sliding down the tunnel reached their ears. Setting the tea aside, the two turned as the turtles came flying into the beanbag pile.

"My sons." Splinter greeted. "Where is your-?"

He heard a fifth figure coming down the tunnel. Thinking it was Hisako, he paused, waiting for them to land. However, when he saw an unfamiliar human emerge from the tunnel, he immediately went into defensive mode. Leatherhead was the same, his eyes glowing red as he approached Casey, growling defensively. As Casey got to his feet, he saw the two mutants and jumped, nearly tripping over the various beanbags.

"A giant rat and an alligator." he muttered. "Okay then..."

"Actually," Donny whispered. "Leatherhead is a crocodile."

"Oh..." Casey muttered. “My bad.”

Needless to say, Splinter was far from happy with Casey’s intrusion into their home. He walked right up to him, pointing his walking stick in the boy’s face.

"Who is this?" Splinter demanded. "And why have you brought him into our home?"

That's when Leatherhead noticed a distinct lack of his friend. The glow began to grow brighter as he too faced the group.

"Oracle… where… is she?" he asked.

Casey stepped towards Splinter and Leatherhead.

"She's been kidnapped." he explained.

"What?!" Leatherhead roared.

Splinter was suddenly shoved aside as Leatherhead picked Casey up like he was nothing, shoving him into the wall of the lair. He hit so hard that the brick cracked, nearly forming a Casey-shaped hole in the wall.

"What… have you done… to Oracle?!" he demanded.

The four turtles all grabbed onto Leatherhead's arms, trying to pull him off.

"He's not responsible!" Mikey tried to explain. "Hisako sent him! She sent him to come get help!"

Casey struggled in Leatherhead’s grip, trying desperately to breathe.

“Please...” he gasped. “They’re telling… the… truth…”

Leatherhead remained skeptical, but released Casey, allowing him to drop to the ground. He coughed and sputtered, rubbing his throat as he tried to regain his breath.

"I take it… he's protective… of Hisako..." Casey wheezed.

"More than you could ever imagine." Splinter replied.

Casey looked up at the rat, slightly fearing another shake-down. Luckily, Splinter was surprisingly calm.

"Tell us what you know." he asked.

Casey nodded.

"Long story short, these guys in full motorcycle gear snatched her." he explained. "And apparently, they're from her past, at least, that's what these guys said."

Leatherhead turned to Casey, a fearful expression crossing his face,

"Her past?" he repeated.

Leo approached the croc, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

"They called her Oracle." he said softly. "Project Oracle."

For the first time since the turtles had met him, Leatherhead seemed to quake in fear. He fell to his knees, clutching his head as tears of fear ran down his face.

"No..." he muttered. "Oracle..."

Master Splinter was in equal shock. His walking stick fell from his hand as he was forced to lean against a wall for support.

"My child… not again…"

Mikey walked over to Splinter, showing a surprisingly serious side as he helped his sensei regain his feet.

"We'll find her." he promised. "We've got to."

Leo nodded, then turned to Donny.

"Don, see if you can find out anything about the place that Hisako's been taken to."

"How?" he asked.

Raph perked up.

"How about that name Hisako keeps screaming during the night." he suggested. "Dexter Hackman?"

Leatherhead started growling as he looked up, the fear giving way to his trademark anger.

"No..." he corrected. "Baxter Stockman."

Donny cracked his knuckles and ran over to his computer, beginning his search.

…

Stockman closed the door to his private office, sitting down at his desk. He opened his laptop, quickly logging in and turning on his private video-chat feed. After a minute, his call was answered by the Master, his form cloaked by the dimness of his feudal-era office.

"Stockman," the Master greeted. "You have news for me?"

"I'm happy to report that the plan was a success." Stockman reported. "Miraculously, Hun managed not to screw up in retrieving Project Oracle. She is now safely back in my care and she has sent a messenger to alert her turtle allies. I estimate that they shall also be in my care within the next 72 hours. Who knows? Maybe they will bring Project Leatherhead with them. It’s become quite clear to me that they have a deeper relationship then I initially believed."

"Excellent Stockman." The Master complemented, genuine pleasure in his voice. "You will keep me updated on your progress."

Before the Master could hang up, Stockman held up a finger to stop him.

"There is… one slight issue with Project Oracle I must mention." Stockman admitted.

"Issue?" the Master asked raising an eyebrow.

"You see," Stockman began. "She has fallen into a self-induced comatose state, effectively making her brain dead. While I believe it is possible to wake her up, perhaps some assistance from your… 'Information gathers' would help speed up the process."

The Master paused for a moment.

"You try my patience Stockman." He responded before thinking for a moment. "Very well. I have invested too much into this project to let it slip through my fingers again."

Stockman put his hands together, slightly bowing in gratitude.

"Thank you Master." Stockman said with a sigh of relief. "I swear you shall not be disappointed."

"I had better not." The Master warned, "For your sake.

The connection ended there, reducing the screen to static.

…

Splinter bandaged up a few small wounds that Casey had received, both from his fight in the pizzeria, and from his two shake-downs. While that happened, Leatherhead stalked around the lair as the brothers all gathered around Donny's computer.

"What did you find Donnie?" Leo asked.

"Looks like Baxter Stockman has made quite a name for himself." Donnie noted, scrolling though information about the mad scientist on the net. "Nobel Prize winner in 2013, holder of 5 different PHDs, graduated from MIT at the age of 16. On top of that, he's CEO and lead scientist at the Technological Creations and Research Institute."

"That's a mouthful." Mikey commented.

"It's just TCRI for short." Donnie informed.

In the other room, Splinter overheard his son's discussion, and stood up at Donatello's last statement. He stood, quickly going to join his sons and Leatherhead with Casey scrambling to follow.

"Donatello," Splinter called out as he entered the room. "What was that last thing you said?"

"That the organization Stockman owns is TCRI."

For the second time that morning, Splinter's walking stick clattered out of his hands. A torrent of memories flooded his vision. The tremendous crash as the large chemical truck demolished his home. The heat of the flames as his old life exploded before him. The feeling of being torn apart, both physically and mentally.

Leatherhead ceased his pacing, catching Splinter as he stumbled.

"You… know of… that place." The croc commented. "It means… something… to you… Something… horrible."

"That company took everything from me." Splinter revealed. "My home. My wife. My child. Even my humanity. And now it seeks to take everything from me again."

The brothers turned away from the computer, going to comfort their sensei. As they did, Casey walked over to the laptop, looking at the picture of the lab on the screen.

"Hey… I think that's the lab that April's interning at." he realized.

Mikey looked over.

"Who's April?" he asked.

"April O'Neil, my girlfriend." he explained. "She got offered an internship by one of the scientists there. She's been going on about it for weeks now."

An idea suddenly struck Leo.

"Casey, do you think we could use her to get into TCRI?" Leo asked, a hopeful expression on his face.

Casey thought for a moment, as if hesitant to reply.

"It's… possible." He allowed, "But, you'd have to talk to her. And I mean, face-to-face."

"If we have to reveal ourselves to another human to ensure Hisako comes home, then I say bring it on." Raph decided.

"No!" Splinter interjected. "It is foolish to reveal our presence to just any human. It is bad enough that this young man has been dragged into our lives-"

"Hey!" Casey interrupted.

"-but to willing bring another is something I will not allow."

Leo looked at his sensei, slightly torn.

"Sensei, while I would usually agree with you, we're going to need all the help we can get."

"Yeah." Casey added. "Look, I know I just met you guys, and I know i ain't gonna earn your trust overnight, but Hisako is my friend, and she's April's as well. I'm willing to lay down my life to help her, and I can practically guarantee that April will do the same."

Splinter paused for a moment, weighing his options. He did not want to put his trust in two humans he did not know, but he also knew that Leonardo spoke the truth. If they were to save Hisako, then they would need as much extra support as they could get. With a sigh, he lowered his head.

"Go." he told them. "Find this April O'Neil. Bring her here."

The turtles all nodded, then Raph paused.

"Bring her here?" he asked. "You sure Sensei?"

Splinter stood up, gripping his walking stick so hard his knuckles turned white.

"If you think I am going to sit idly by while TCRI destroys my life again, then you know nothing. Once we have a plan, I am coming along."

Leatherhead cracked his knuckles, twisting his neck to pop it as well.

"Me too…" he added. "Oracle… needs me… and… I will not… fail her… again."

Raph just nodded, then joined his brothers and Casey as they clambered out of the sewers.

…

It was April's day off, the one day of the week that she didn't have the schlep papers, get coffee, or run around delivering messages. While she had planned to spend the day relaxing and catching up on some reading, her empty pantry had quickly changed her plans.

April pushed the door to her apartment complex open, holding about four large brown bags of groceries in her arms. As she shuffled over to the elevator, she did her best to try and juggle her bags and get her apartment keys at the same times.

"Where's a bellhop when you need one?" she thought as she balanced a bag on her leg before finally grabbing her keys from her purse.

The elevator dinged and she got out, and was grateful when her neighbor poked her head out.

"Hey April!" a nerdy looking girl coke-bottle glasses called out.

"Hey Irma." April replied. "Think you can help me?"

Irma came out, quickly taking two of the bags from April. When she saw the contents, she chuckled.

"Ran out of food again?" she asked

April nodded as they reached her apartment.

"I've been so focused on school and my new internship that I forgot to go shopping for the month."

"That'll do it to ya." Irma remarked with a smile.

The two girls reached the apartment, where April deftly opened the door. She set the groceries down in the hallway, then took the other bags from Irma.

"Thanks for the help."

"Any time." Irma waved.

April closed the door, walking two of the bags into the kitchen. When she went back for the other two and returned to the kitchen, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Standing in her kitchen, golf bag over his shoulder and hockey mask on his head, was Casey. He waved sheepishly as the other two grocery bags fell to the ground.

"Hey April…" he waved.

"Casey!" April shouted in surprised, bending down to pick up the fallen groceries. "How did you get in here?"

Casey helped her gather up the rest, placing them on the counter. After that, he leaned against the pantry door, as if trying to find the right words.

"Well…" Casey started, waving his hand in front of him. "I used the key you keep under the mat. You said I could if there was an emergency"

"I see." April noted with more than a small note of skepticism, putting various produce in her fridge. "So what's the emergency? And why are you dressed like that?"

Casey paused. He honestly didn't know how to explain what was going on. He barely understood it himself. Still he had to try. April was crucial to the plan.

"Well it's…"Casey started. "... It's kinda a long story."

April raised an eyebrow, closing her refrigerator and leaning against it.

"I got time." April responded, crossing her arms in suspicion. "Now spill."

Casey gulped, then straightened up.

"Well," he began nervously. "You see… there was an… incident... at the pizzeria. These guys attacked the shop and practically destroyed everything-"

April suddenly shot forward, her analytical mind quickly scanning Casey for any signs of wounds.

"What do you mean attacked?" she exclaimed. "Are you ok?"

She then noticed the bandages on his arms and quickly checked them over. Casey had to pull his arms free, holding his girlfriend so she was facing him.

"April, I promise you, I'm fine." he reassured. "It's just… Well..."

"Just what?" April asked.

"There was… They kinda… ok I'll just say it. April…"

"Look, you ain’t proposing to her!" A deep, unfamiliar voice suddenly called from the fire escape. "Just tell her!"

Casey face palmed as April looked around in alarm.

"Who's that?" She asked before turning to face Casey. "Casey, how many people are in my apartment?"

"That's part of why I'm here." Casey answered, silently wishing that he wasn't on such a time crunch. "You know how Hisako is always talking about her brothers?"

She nodded slowly, confused.

"Yeah?" she responded. "But what does that have to do with-?"

That's when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Ever so slowly, the turned around. Almost immediately, she stumbled back, having come face to face with Raphael.

"Hi." He greeted curtly. "I'm Raphael. We need your help."

As she continued stumbling back, she ran into Donatello, who attempted to steady her. Instead, he only succeeded in starling her further.

"Whoa, calm down." he warned her. You're going to cause yourself to faint."

April was completely and utterly stupefied. As she ran into Leonardo, the blue turtle tried to stop her stumbling.

"We know our appearance is a bit… Much to handle, but I promise you, we're not going to hurt you."

"Yeah!" Mikey agreed, walking up to her. "We're the good guys! I promise."

April looked between the four turtles, then at Casey. She could barely form a single word as she stuttered and pointed. Casey took her arm, helping to steady her.

"April… meet Hisako's brothers."

It was then that April reached her breaking point. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she fainted. Casey barely managed to catch her before she hit the ground. As he adjusted his grip on her, he looked up at the four turtles.

"Well that went better than expected." Donny remarked.

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