Blink 182 shirt california

After years of playing acoustic, I've finally decided to make the leap into the world of electric guitar. To ensure I can achieve the wide range of sounds I love, I've carefully selected a set of pedals for my upcoming pedalboard. I would greatly appreciate your expertise and insights to validate my choices and guide me in the right direction. These are the pedals I've selected so far:
Distorition - Pro Co Rat 2
Chours - MXR Analog Chours
OD - BOSS Blues Driver BD2
Reverb - EH oceans 11
Delay - BOSS DD-200
Compressor - BOSS CS-3
Flanger - BOSS BF -3
Fuzz - EQD Hizumitas
Phase - MXR PHASE 100
Looper - FLAMMA FS21
Tremelo - BOSS TR-2
Tuner - polytune mini 3
My main inspirations for guitar are bands such as - Blink 182, The 1975 , My Bloody Valentine , The Beatles ,Beastie Boys , Nirvana , American Football, MCR, king gizzard, Black Country New Road , Black Midi , etc
So my main question is , will this pedal board be able to fit all these genres ?

Context: You just got a nice home in the middle of the woods, a few ways from the nearest town, Willow Creek. You love all the nightly critters coming out and saying hello to you every time. After a few months in your new home and family constantly keeping tabs on you, you wanted to go for a nightly walk as you usually did before moving into your new little cabin. But something was amiss this time, you felt something was near, and it was getting closer...
Usage: This script is up and running! Please let me know if you are recording or for any other usage beforehand! If it's to be posted on Youtube, Patreon or the like, then being credited is a must! This script is also open to collaborations! Please feel free to gender swap but let me know in advance!
The Night of Bloody Fields
Werewolves Fight over you.
Scene 1
\SFX: walking on crunching leaves in the forest, give a few seconds of walking before the listener slowly hears tearing of meat. The sound grows closer before they immediately stop and look to see a large figure tearing through what seems to be a man’s body\**
\The listener stops and looks horrified, SFX: Growling or snarling for a few seconds before paw running sounds. The listener sprints away as fast as she could\**
\With the giant creature high on the listeners tail, the listener runs harder and harder until they tumble on a arched root\**
*The creature makes them fall to the ground, the snarling growing closer to their face\*
*The listener looks on in horror, heart beating fast\*
*The creature’s voice rumbles, it seems to laugh menacingly\* It seems I finally managed to catch you~ *It mouth chuckles sinisterly* You…, almost, managed to lose me, but I’m afraid I caught you just in time. If you were just a little bit closer to your little cabin…I would’ve lost you forever~ *It mouth chuckles sinisterly\* You…,almost, managed to lose me, but I’m afraid I caught you just in time. If you were just a little bit closer to your little cabin…I would’ve lost, you forever~
*The listener speaks out, questioning how they knew them and how they knew where they lived. They could only think of its menacing taunting\*
J: Little rabbit, I know you because you’ve wandered into my woods before. I’ve silently looked upon your delicate face, your slim figure, all your features of which I knew just from your…*Inhales and exhales with a growl afterwards\* wonderful scent~. Your little cabin is the only home away from any prying eyes…I could only think, “what human would want to live so far from Willow Creek?” And thus…I found you. You have taken my interest, so all I had to do was quietly wait until you were all alone. If it wasn’t for your family that had visited so frequently, I would’ve done so sooner…
*The listener stiffens, W-What ARE you? \*
J: I am what you humans call…a “werewolf”. You humans think that something like me would just be a wife's tale to scare children…but we are very much real.
*The listener shuffles underneath him, “Why take an interest in me? Why wait so long if you are just going to kill me?” \*
J: Kill you? *Chuckles\* I don’t kill without reason, my dear. I only kill the ones that I see fit. It would be unsightly of me to just be a ruthless killing machine! ~ I choose my prey very carefully…And you, you are the most intriguing…
*The listener is stunned, “W-What do you mean by that?”\*
J: Well, It’s your scent. Your scent is…indescribably different from the most I have smelt before…How curious—
*He leans in and sniffs her. With this, the listener punches his muzzle, He is stunned by how powerful the punch was. The listener starts sprinting away*
*He growls lowly\* You shouldn’t have done that, little rabbit…
*He pins the listener again, his breath on the back of their neck, his growling becoming more furious\*
J: Now you got to pay the consequences, how about…I mark that neck of yours and…make you mine to play with as payment? Pretty good deal…don’t you think, little rabbit?
*His breath is close to their neck, only to be interrupted by something or someone else, SFX: A punch causes his body tumbling to the side\*
*He growls lowly, looking up to see who interrupted his playful time\*
E: That’s enough, Jax!
*The listener hears a new voice, Jax groans and ‘happily’ greets Enzo\*
J: Why, if it isn’t my dear cousin Enzo…how delightful to see you again.
*Enzo sternly looks to Jax, his voice stern and angered\*
E: Cut it with the facade, You will not lay a finger on her if you know what’s good for you.
*Jax sighs and stands up, his voice menacing and humming with fakeness\*
J: Oh, but I would! She’s too interesting to pass up! *He chuckles sinisterly\* If I had my way, I’d mark her right here and now~
*Enzo stepped closer to Jax, his voice commanding and low\*
E: You better not sink your teeth into her, Jax. Because if you do, I will not be merciful.
J: *Laughs out loud\* Merciful you say? How endearing~ I’d love to see what absolute destruction lies dormant inside you!
*The listener speaks out to Enzo, “Wha…? What’s going on…?” \*
E: You need to get back to your home, now—
J: Oh, come on~ We were just having a little fun, weren’t we, little rabbit?
*Enzo steps close to the listener, leaning in and talking lowly to them\*
E: Listen to me, you need to run and get inside, now.
*The listener says, “what’s going on? How do you know me?”
E: I know you have a lot of questions, but I can’t answer them. Not right now-Right now I need you to go home, got it? Go! Go!
*The listener starts backing away, they see Jax’s expression turn to anger\*
J: Get out of my way! She is mine.
*Jax suddenly throws a punch at Enzo, Enzo evades it\*
E: She isn’t yours to play with.
J: Man, you are such a buzzkill…It’s about time I put you in your place!
*SFX: Growling and punches echo as it fades out of the scene\*
Scene 2
\The Listener is back at their home, pacing back and forth as they worry more and more about the situation that transpired earlier. SFX: pacing footsteps and crackling fire in a fireplace,\**
\The Listener suddenly rushes outside, taking a lantern with them. A while has passed since the encounter, so they went back to the spot where the fight began\**
*SFX: Walking on dirt or leaves, looking for wherever that other man he saved her from that creature\*
*In the distance, heavy breathing can be heard, The Listener rushes over to the sound, seeing the man’s clothes teared and bloodied\*
E: W-What are you doing back? You shouldn’t be here—He might come back—*He says while trying to get up, the pain in his voice clear\*
*The listener shakes their head; I couldn’t leave you here. Not after everything that has happened…\*
E: *He clears his throat, grimacing a few times as he speaks, \* Even so, that's not—H-Hey!
*The listener grabs his arm and pulls him up, “You are not going to be left here to bleed out and die!”\*
E: T-That’s not really necessary! ---*He says as he is being dragged back to their little cabin home\*
*The listener exclaims, “And I insist on it! It’s the least I can do from you taking on…whatever that was!” \*
E: *He sighs defeatedly\* Very well then…
(After some time has passed, they arrive at her home, Enzo grimacing at the pain that seems to grow every second)
*SFX: Door opening, footsteps, stumbling footsteps as the listener is carrying Enzo to their couch, SFX: Couch cushioning\*
*The listener beckons him, “Please don’t move, I’ll go get some medical supplies\*
*SFX: listener walks over and opens cabinet, rummaging for medical supplies, after a few seconds they found what they need and kneel to him near the couch where he laid\*
E: P-Please, I don’t need medical supplies…I-I’ll be fine, really…
*The listener sternly compels him to comply\*
E: Sigh*\* You’re very stubborn I’ll give you that much—*Grimaces*
*The listener asks, “Please take your shirt off, I need to see how bad the injuries are”\*
E: I told you before, I don’t need any medical assistance! My body can—
*SFX: opening of shirt quickly: The listener opens his shirt to see his body almost fully healed, the listener is stunned by what they see\*
*A silence falls before the listener speaks again, “How are you almost healed already?” \*
E: I was trying to tell you—-
*The listener quickly says, “You were bloodied all over!”\*
E: If you can let me explain I’ll—-
*The listener cuts him off, “And what was that thing that came after me?!” \*
E: Hey! *He grasps their arms and looks at them in the eye\* Listen to me!
*The listener takes a couple breaths before nodding\*
E: First, what you just saw was a Rogue werewolf. Someone…I regretfully know. And second, I’m a werewolf too…
*The listener blinks at him for a moment, “So, werewolves aren’t just a wife's tale. They’re real?”\*
E: Yes…They are real. The reason why I didn’t need any medical assistance—
*He shows his body, already half-healed* Was because my body could regenerate the injuries.
*The Listener shakes their head, “Well your body is all battered and bruised so I’m still going to help you out”\*
E: But I just said—*He sighs reluctantly* Fine, but I’m telling you I don’t need any treatment…
*The listener speaks as they take a cloth and soak it in water, “You still may get infections, I may not know how good the regenerative abilities you, werewolves, have, but this is the least I could do…as returning the favor for you saving me” \*
E: *He sighs* Very well then…
*The listener, rubs the cloth all over his body, cleaning off the leftover blood and still healing gashes, “If I may be so bold, May I know your name, stranger?”
E: My name…is Enzo. Enzo Wilfred…yours?
*The listener tells him their name\*
E: Well…that is a lovely name…You know, you remind me of an owl, since you seem to enjoy the nighttime so much. *He chuckles\*
*The listener speaks, “Well, I do like the nighttime, Nightly walks I love the most.”
E: Heh, I can see that, since you managed to run into Jax…
*The listener replies, “Jax…So that’s his name” \*
E: Yes…He is no longer a part of our “community”. He’s shown how ruthless he can be, so he was banished.
*The listener questions him, “Banished?”\*
E: He has a tendency to want to express his true nature to the “community”. To show what we were “missing” he says. We thought his actions had gone far enough when he ended up killing humans more and more as time went by. And well…you might have an idea now of why we banished him…
*The listener speaks softly, “I see…”
*The silence was so great that you could still hear the fire crackling in the fireplace, the crickets outside, everything\*
*The listener cleans his body one more time before settling the bucket and cloth down, “This should be good enough. I’ll bandage you up and you can rest up here for the night” \*
E: Oh no, no I couldn’t…You already had quite the experience already and to have a…” werewolf” in your home probably is—
*The Listener interrupts him, “Whether you're really a werewolf or not, you saved my life. This is the least I can do for you…you also have to explain to me all this as well in the morning.” \*
E: I- *He sighs defeatedly\* Alright, I suppose that’s fair. You do have a lot of questions for me after all…I’ll stay for a little while before setting off.
*SFX: The listener smiles and takes the bucket and cloth, “Then I will fetch some blankets for you”. \*
E: I-...ok. *He spoke after her, SFX: The listeners footsteps fade and then fade back in as blankets rustle, indicating he’s bundled up on the couch\*
*The listener smiles softly at him, “Are you comfortable enough?” \*
E: Ah- yes…I’m comfortable enough.
*The listener speaks once more, “Then I hope you rest well tonight” \*
E: I will try to, but make no promises, Werewolves tend to be out and about during the night.
*The listener chuckles, “Then at least rest while you can, you risked yourself for me…” \*
E: It’s…what I was assigned to do…*He says under his breath\*
*The listener tilts their head in confusion, “What did you say?” \*
E: *Coughs\* Nothing, I’m just glad I could be of help, Owlet.
*The listener kneels down and starts doing bandages on him, “Well may I bandage you? Just so the bleeding doesn’t continue, of course…” \*
E: I don’t mind being bandaged…I’ll be out of your hair soon enough anyway.
*The listener chuckles, “Well I hope to see you again sometime around” \*
E: Well…We’ll see if we can meet again soon, Owlet.
*SFX: Bandage wrapping alongside a crackling fire with crickets just outside the windows of the home as it fades out\*
To Be Continued

Dumbledore simply stared at the man before him.
He looked to be around 50 or so with silver in his mop of hair, and half-moon spectacles much like Albus’s own. He retained much of that unnatural handsomeness that Albus remembered from the man’s youth but gone was the unsettling feeling of being prey. Gone was the barely controlled mask that covered the man’s emotions.
Instead he calmly looked over his shop counter, his midnight blue waistcoat and white shirt gleaming in the nearby candlelight.
“I just don’t understand? How-what? I mean…” Albus flustered in utter bafflement.
The man across from him smiled a slightly sad tight smile. His eyes remained cold however.
“Really Professor? Something you don’t understand my, my….this surely must be one for the history books” He exhaled slowly before continuing. “You have heard of Kńiftön I assume?”
Albus started “The foresight herb, yes. Used by Seers to centuries to help hone their craft. A rare and expensive thing to find my boy”.
Tom smirked “Yes well…..while working for Borgin after school I unfortunately found he was holding a large containers worth, obtained illegally of course, which he was holding for an equally shady friend.
I had the misfortune of tripping and falling into the container one afternoon. Merely a potentially embarrassing and possibly costly mishap if not for me trying instinctively to blast my way out…….the herb incinerated immediately exposing me to over several hundred times the recommended amount”
Tom seemed to look inwards then, pausing as though haunted by terrible things.
“I dreamed Dumbledore. Of things that happened, and of things that would happen. I lived entire lifetimes in the blink of an eye……and when I awoke from my stupor, I was a changed man”
He said the next words on a whisper.
“…..a better man I think.”
Albus just stared open mouthed. Finally he tried to find a direction for his questions, his expectations “ But the Prophecy? The predictions? You’re telling me that after this ‘dream’ you just decided to be ‘Good’”.
Even without hand quotations around the word the implied disbelief and sarcasm was obvious.
Tom simply shook his head slowly “I always knew you’d find it difficult to comprehend. Albus I didn’t just dream, I lived! I wielded my wand against countless enemies, destroyed my opponents, gained untold knowledge and did everything possible to secure my immortality……terrible things…great but terrible.
And do you know what all that death and destruction and mutilation achieved…..less than NOTHING! Over a decade in pain living as less than a ghost, the Magical World damaged beyond repair for generations, and my corpse lying on Hogwarts steps before I’d ever seen my 70th year………hardly a rousing victory”.

Been wanting to see them for years I can’t wait!

Previous, first, next,
Fanfiction.
​
(A/N) This one turned out to be a long one so its been split between two posts. Enjoy.
​
Chapter 28
The sound of the gunshot still rang in my ears. The room felt hot, almost stifling. Questions ran amok in my head, Did he have a family? Had this been the only option? Was I now just as bad as him? The last few seconds played over and over in my head.
All I could do was look at his body. The scientist laid in front of me–unmoving, his dirty shirt darkening around the wound. I just stared at the life I just took, and for a moment, the questions in my mind became overwhelming.
It wasn't until a hand reached out and grabbed me by the shoulder I was pulled back to the present.
“James!” Warspite’s voice called out. I realised her tiny hands were pulling at me. I met her eyes in a daze, the concern on her face telling me she had already tried calling my name several times now.
“Warspite… I-” I tasted bile in my throat.. My eyes unconsciously broke contact with hers, and meandered back to the body.
“Don't! Look at me, James.” She accentuated her point by cupping my cheeks and forcing me to focus on her and only her. “Eyes on me.”
“Y-yes.” I complied awkwardly.
“I’ve radioed her Majesty, they'll be at the mouth of the river soon. Go with the others and get to the docks. Get out of here.”
A semblance of reason finally returned to my mind. “The others? What about you?”
“I’m going to burn this wretched place to the ground.” Seeing that I was finally cognisant she turned me around in place and pushed me over to the others, ensuing the entire time I couldn't see what I had done. Javelin was quick to receive me in a tiny hug.
Everyone bar Cleveland now had their rigging out, who was still slumped on the floor, holding her sister’s cube with Z23 trying to console her. Zuikaku had her sword drawn and was watching every entrance to the room, her entire body tense, ready to act at a moment's notice with a hard expression.
“Javelin, I need one of your depth charges.” The Dreadnought ordered. “I’ll wire up its timer to level this room.”
“R-right.” Javelin closed her eyes and focused. She lifted up her arms and a large barrel shaped munition appeared in her hands. She passed it over to Warspite with ease. “Here.”
“Good.” She looked to Cleveland. Her tone softened slightly. “Are you good to move?”
“Aye.” She spoke with a sniffle as she stood up, still tightly holding the cube against herself not letting it leave her sight for even a second.
Warspite stared me down. “Turn and leave, keep your eyes forward and don't look back. I'll catch up.”
With a shove she pushed me around and towards the door we had entered from. I stood still for a moment, a part of me wanting to turn back one more time, and I probably would have if not for a small hand reaching out to me. I found Javelin staring at me compassionately, her cheeks and pretty emerald eyes still marked with dried up tears. She stood gently still.
Despite the overbearing desire to do so, Warspite’s words echoed in my head. I jolted forward and didn't look back once.
Cleveland whimpered as we left the building before running ahead of us, through the smoke from the fires that filled the air I was just able to see the source of her dread.
The Montpelier was still in its dock, but where we had left it in an almost pristine condition it was now in a complete state of disrepair, the gun barrels hung limp in their housings, with several having even fallen into the deck. The panels lining the hull were coming apart as the welds and rivets that held them failed, the ship looked to be listing slightly as water was probably leaking in through collapsed bulkheads.
“No…” I heard Cleveland dash past me.
Cleveland scrambled over to her sister’s deteriorating ship, followed close by the rest of the girls, ignoring the muffled sound of an explosion that came from the building behind us.
With burning lungs I finally caught up to her as she reached the dock. “Please, Monty. Don’t go.” The cruiser pleaded, keeping the cube firmly grasped in one hand and placing her palm against the hull.
The ship moved as its weight shifted, a loud scraping noise rang out as the metal grinded against the dock.
Cleveland continued to rub the metal affectionately. “Shh, it's ok. Your big sister is here. Everything will be fine now.”
As was the usual case whenever something happened around these girls the hairs on my neck stood up as both the ship and Cleveland both began to glow.
There was a moment of hope as I looked at the cube clutched in her arm, but it still looked inert, even the light radiating from her body seemed to avoid it.
As I had seen countless times now, the ship became a mass of energy, the light hovering where the ship had previously been before Cleveland suddenly went rigid as the light flowed into her.
The cruiser yelped in pain as her body fought to contain the energy, a hand grabbed my collar and pulled me away. I was too transfixed on the spectacle to see who had done so.
Blood dripped from Cleveland's nose and she dropped to her knees, not letting go of Montpelier’s cube at all. Her rigging glowed bright, and an ethereal shape took form around it. The more I stared at it, the more I understood that this shape had the outline of a rigging, and it was fighting to occupy the same space as Cleveland’s already existing one, who grit her teeth and winced.
A gust of wind blasted around her, and in a matter not too dissimilar to when her rigging had formed, the light coalesced once more. A black line was suddenly drawn along the seam of her cape at the same time it was torn around the edges, followed by the ends of her golden locks of hair lost their lustre, changing into a silver white.
After what had felt like an eternity Cleveland seemingly regained control of her body once again, the tension in her arms and legs relaxed. With sweat dripping from her head she reopened her eyes, and slowly stood back up with laboured breaths. Her left eye shone with a different lustre for a moment, still red, yet a slightly different hue that slowly disappeared as she blinked.
“Are you ok?” I asked, unsure of what being ok could even be classed as right now.
“I thi-” She did a double take as what sounded like two voices came from her mouth, her own overlapping with another one. She put a hand to her mouth and coughed. “I think I am?” Her voice came out normal then. She wiped the blood away from her with her elbow, noticing that the fingerless glove on her right arm now ran across the full length of her elbow.
Running footsteps pulled our attention over to Warspite, who sped over to us. Smoke poured out of the roof of the building behind her, further adding to the cloud surrounding the facility and reducing visibility even further. Any further and I’d begin to choke.
Warspite took a second to stare at Cleveland before quickly returning her attention to the matter at hand, I noticed something hidden within her scarf as she adjusted it. “Commander, we need to move. Cleveland, are you able to sail?” The cruiser gave a slight nod. “Good, Zuikaku take him, the rest of you stay close.”
Slender but firm arms wrapped around me, and the carrier in question slung me over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and jumped off the edge of the dock without warning. Zuikaku didn’t even give me a chance to retort as we splashed against the water, quickly gaining speed. I was able to see the others land on the water one by one and begin to follow behind us, quickly catching up. They all had a solemn expression as we once again found ourselves only just escaping complete disaster.
Zuikaku let me go once her feet touched the Warspite’s deck. The ship was already gaining speed and heading towards the relative safety of the open ocean, leaving behind a smoking land, the morning wind fanning the flames even more. I took out my binoculars and dared look back. I knew there would only be burnt rubble left by the time the fires died.
I felt the rush of what had happened slowly die down. A burning at the back of my throat threaded to force me to empty my stomach. The air was hot, almost stifling, it had never stopped burning even after leaving that place. Everyone's eyes were now on me, with the three girls that had stayed back looking with confusion on their faces.
“Get-” I paused, forcing my voice to stay steady and my dinner to stay down. “Get us out to the open sea and stay alert for any ships, Siren or otherwise. Everyone go and get some rest, it's been a long night.”
I did not wait for a reply and made my way inside the ship with unsteady steps, pushing my hands deep into my pockets to try and stop them from shaking. Someone called out to me as I walked but I just ignored it.
It was only when I went to open my cabin door did I realise someone had followed me, a white gloved hand covered mine as I tried to turn the handle.
“Not now, Hood.” I sighed, almost whispering. I turned my head to look at the woman, finding her beautiful blue eyes looking back at me with concern.
“James, I-”
“Please don’t.” I cut her off, wincing at the harshness of my own voice. I felt my stomach churn more, but I just didn't want to deal with anyone right now.
“But-”
“Don’t make me order you.”
The words left my mouth before I even realised. Hood stood still for a moment, mouth agasp and eyes wide with incredulity. She retired her hand away from mine, placing it against her chest. A mixture of emotions ran on her face, ones I didn’t dare look at.
I opened the door and darted inside the cabin before she recovered, slamming it shut behind me.
I stood deathly still for a moment. Was it a minute? Was it an hour? I just stood against the door, my legs feeling numb. Eventually, I heard the distinctive click of Hood’s heels disappear into the distance.
I held for a moment longer. For just a moment longer, I stood alone, bearing the weight. Then it came crashing down.
I ran my hands through my hair and tried to calm myself down. It was hopeless. Blood was on my hands, I could still smell the gunpowder, it was an oppressing scent that overpowered everything else. I found myself staring at my hand, how long had it been locked in that gripping position? I could still feel the weight of the gun.
I felt nauseous.
My arm still ached from the recoil, unable to hold the gun properly without being noticed. I had felt pain shoot up my arm the moment I fired and now even closing my fist was a difficult affair.
Unable to stand still any longer, I began to pace back and forth in the small cabin. Forward and backwards, side to side, the walls closed in on me every time I turned, making it harder and harder to breathe.
“It’s just a trick, it’s all in your head.” I repeated to myself, but the words rang hollow.
The sequence replayed over and over in my head, each time more vivid than the last. The details ran too clearly. Steven’s voice, the whimpers of the girls, my own heart pounding, my own ears ringing.
Cold metal against my skull. My spine freezing.
I sat down on the bed, and cradled my head in my arms. I closed my eyes trying my hardest to force the image out of my head. It was a useless effort.
Without even meaning, I whimpered silently. The sound of something dripping onto the deck pulled my attention away from the memory. Something ran down my face and I realised I had started crying. I tried to wipe my eyes with my sleeve, hoping nobody would come in at this moment. What kind of leader would cry at a time like this? All those girls looked to me for guidance and leadership, yet time after time again I led us straight into disaster
It had been me that had almost cost the girls their freedom. I didn't deserve to be their Commander.
I breathed deeply and tried to get a lid on my emotions and push them down.
“Think practical James. You're just in shock.” I told myself before taking several more deep breaths, remembering the first aid books Hood and I had read together. Thinking of Hood again made me feel miserable.
I reached into my pocket. Even sitting down it still felt like an iron weight pulling me down. I feebly grasped the old wooden handle and pulled the gun back out from where I had quickly stashed it. The scent of burnt gunpowder seemed to double as it entered the open air.
My stomach twisted again, and I let go of it, followed by a rushed scampering. I reached under my bed, not really caring where, just looking for something suitable to get that thing away from me and my mind. I found an old bag and frantically tossed the gun inside, producing a distinctive clicking sound.
“Shit.” I cursed and reached inside with my hand, finding an old bottle of scotch. The opaque, unlabelled glass was thankfully intact, but it showed me my warped, miserable reflection. I don’t know what possessed me then, for I grasped it by the neck and pushed the bag with the gun back under the bed.
I pried it open. It had been a gift from one of the sailors in the fleet. Twisting the wax securing the cap I realised such a bottle was nigh impossible to get on a sailors wage so I guessed this one had probably been listed as smashed during the attack.
I sat further back in my bed and lifted the bottle up to my mouth. The old familiar taste burned my throat as the amber liquid went down but the pleasant warming effect was soon to follow.
Taking another large swig I noticed a third of the bottle had already been drunk. I laid the bottle down and burrowed my head down on the pillow, desperately waiting for the numbing effect of the alcohol to kick in.
I looked once again at the door to my cabin. Part of me wanted nothing more than for one of the girls to open the door and come in, even if it was just to sit in silence with me. Even if it was Hood. God, why did I snap at her like that?
Sighing, my gaze turned to look up at the ceiling as my mind began to wander. I thought of the short time Javelin and I had spent together when we first met. It felt like a lifetime ago when she was showing me around her ship, trying her hardest to impress me with every rivet and weld used in her construction.
And thanks to me she just experienced nightmare after nightmare. Warspite had been right. I just keep throwing myself into situations without thinking about the consequences.
Maybe it would be best for me to just return home. The girls would be far better off leading themselves, I would probably be arrested the moment I returned, but it would be for the best.
I lifted the bottle again.
–
I spent a long while laying on my bed thinking of both home and the small moments of comfort I had shared with the girls, riding out the buzz of the alcohol until it eventually faded. Leaving my mouth dry and the warning signs of an oncoming headache. I didn’t dare drink myself to a stupor, but I drifted listlessly in my thoughts for an unknown amount of time. The ship had stopped moving a while back, and now the light coming through the porthole had darkened. There was a constant soft tapping sound against the hull from a rainstorm.
Both thirst and growing hunger forced me to get up. I left my cabin with a sigh, and was surprised to find a tray with some sandwiches by the door. I never heard anyone knock so I didn't know how long it had been left out for or who left them. Eating them helped sate my hunger and slightly quell the pain in my stomach but also added to the growing guilt of how the girls were willing to go out of their way for me.
I placed the empty tray into my cabin to take to the mess later. I began walking towards the bridge, knowing the ship's owner would be there. I knew if there was anyone on this ship who could set me straight, it was her.
I found the Dreadnought sitting in the captain's chair, her long blond hair and scarf flowing down each side of the chair and her short legs idly dangling in the air. The bridge echoed with the sound of the rain and I could see the droplets flowing down the glass. The cabin was slightly dark, with just the night lights on.
Warspite rested her head in her palms and looked out of the cabin, seemingly unaware of my presence. Not wanting to overly startle someone who controlled naval cannons, I announced my presence as I walked to her side.
“Hey, Warspite. Anything to report?”
She immediately jolted in her seat with a rather cute yelp. She twisted her head towards the source of the noise. “Oh, James. Sorry, I didn't hear you enter.” She placed a hand against her chest to calm her racing heart.
“Aren’t you always able to tell where everyone is on your ship?” I asked, trying to make conversation. Just being in her presence was bringing some welcome relief, I didn't know why but it was like I could always be at ease around her.
“That still holds true, but my mind was elsewhere.” Her eyes shifted nervously and she pulled her scarf up slightly.
Her face turned to a look of concern. I knew what she was going to say before she even spoke. “How are you feeling?.”
“I’m fine.” I quickly replied, suddenly unable to meet her gaze.
“Poppycock. I can smell the alcohol James.”
I cursed the girl's heightened senses. I had come to the bridge to find someone to talk to, but now confronted with it I wanted to be anywhere but here.
“I just… We wouldn’t have gotten into that situation if it wasn’t for me. It’s always like this. It’s always on me. You keep risking yourselves and it’s my fault.”
“It’s not like that, James. We are yours to command. Danger will happen one way or the other.”
I trembled with a myriad of feelings, but the one that overtook me the most was frustration. “You have better chances to survive without me leading you into stupid danger.”
I could see her eyes widening, but I continued before she had the chance to react. “You are irreplaceable, all of you. If that happens again, I want all of you to get to safety even if it means leaving me behind. You deserve better than some guy who’s always winging it.”
Warspite sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She hopped down from the chair and stepped forward until she was right in front of me. She placed her hands behind her back and tilted her head up. “Could you lean forward for me please? My head height will do.” She asked politely.
Confused, I leaned forward until our eyes met at the same level. The pupils of her eyes seemed to widen as she studied every aspect of my face. After a few seconds had passed I began to wonder what she was doing.
In a flash her face twisted to anger and she slapped me across the face with enough force to make me stumble. My hand immediately went to where she had hit feeling a burning sting, there was a slight taste of blood in my mouth. Then I felt her weight on my chest.
“Don’t!” I could feel her trembling on my chest. “Don't you dare ever say something like that again!” She balled her hands into fists and hit my chest repeatedly while stomping her foot into the deck, a sight all too familiar from her sister.
I stood idly and dumbfounded as she vented her frustrations. Warspite then wrapped her arms around me and pulled us into a tight hug, burying her face into my chest. The sudden hug only added to my surprise. Barring the occasional time’s she had offered her hand in comfort and how she had scoffed whenever the other girls had hugged me I had figured she wasn't one for personal contact. And yet, I hugged her back, trying to comfort her, or was she the one comforting me? It was hard to tell.
We both stood in silence for what felt like an eternity. Warspite didn't say anything during the entire time, only keeping a tight grip around my waist while keeping her head against my chest. There wasn't any sobbing or crying, but I could feel a slight dampness on my shirt from her tears.
Once she had decided that enough time had passed Warspite finally let go and stood back, wiping at her eyes in an attempt to hide the fact she’d been crying. “You…” Her voice was shaky, obviously trying with all her might to keep her emotions at bay. “You are not to say such things again. I swore an oath to protect you with my life and by my boilers I will uphold that oath until my last breath, dammit! No matter how difficult you make it for me! You are also irreplaceable, James. Never, ever forget that!” There was a slightest bit of a smile with her last comment.
Sighing I leaned against a console and rubbed my head. “I’m sorry. I can see how much your oaths mean to you. It's just it would be all my fault if something happened to you girls.”
“Don’t apologise, your reasoning is a noble one.” Warspite shook her head and pulled my face back to face hers again. “You, my sisters and Her Majesty are my dearest people in my life, and I couldn't live with myself if something was to happen to any of you, I would rather be the one laid low if it would ensure you had each other.”
A confident smile returned to her face. “But you needn't worry. I will always find the strength to get us out of any situation we find ourselves in.”
“I wish I had even an iota of your confidence.” I replied, my spirits lifting once again just by being in her presence.
“Comes with having eight fifteen inch guns to back me up.” The battleship boasted proudly, her smile turning tender afterwards. “But you shouldn't sell yourself short. Despite the outcomes of your actions, it's obvious to anyone your heart is in the right place and that the decisions you make are right and just.”
She gave a long sigh, her eyes flickering to a side, her lips pursing into a thin line. I followed her gaze to a small object on her chair. I could barely make out what it was.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Something I've been meaning to talk to you about, but I was going to give it a little more time before bringing it up.” Warspite replied as she walked over to fetch it. She presented a small notebook to me. “When I was setting the fuse in the depth charge I couldn't help but look over his body, if only to spit at it. However I spotted this jutting out of his pocket.”
I examined the item further. The black leather bindings showed it was rather valuable, but the paper inside looked yellowed and worn with several loose papers clasped inside. And finally there was the slightest hint of blood on the bottom edge, hastily dried to ensure the contents were not damaged.
“What's… What’s written inside?” I asked. A pregnant silence followed. “...Do I even want to know?”
“That's the thing. I haven't looked yet.” She moved the weight of the notebook around in her hands, half treating it with care like it was a priceless artefact and half looking like she wanted to throw it to the ground. “I can hazard a guess as to what it will entail, and that's what got me perplexed.”
I started to put the pieces together. “If it was in his lab coat then…”
“It's probably his notes on the experiments he ran.” The battleship finished. “In conflict, knowledge–both of yourself and your foe, is power. This book may contain valuable information regarding my kind and what we are capable of.” She looked down at the book and rubbed the leather with her thumb. “But.”
“The way that information was obtained was nothing short of a crime against humanity.”
“Rather more against ship kind if we’re being accurate.” She half joked with a tense smile. “I wanted to ask what you think I should do with this. Her Majesty told me to trust my judgement when I asked her, but I also value your opinion on this.”
Scratching my chin, I looked at the book. Within it may be invaluable information that may help us begin to piece together some of the mysteries of this world. But then I thought of Cleveland and what had happened to her sister. “I’m sorry Warspite, but ultimately this is about your kind. I’d rather have it be one of your kind who ultimately makes that decision.”
“I had a feeling you’d say something along those lines.” She said with a sincere smile, putting the notebook to the side. “I’ll give it some thought. Probably for the best as I’m sure the contents will only worsen my already low opinion of humans. That and I want to get Cleveland’s permission as well, but I’ll give her some time to recover first.”
“Cleveland...” I thought out loud. “How’s she been?”
“Reclusive.” Warspite sighed. “Once we were back on the ship we asked if she needed anything. She just shook her head and began aimlessly wandering my ship, from what I can tell she hasn’t eaten much or spoken to anyone since.”
“Where is she now?”
“Out on deck.” Warspite nodded her head towards the window. “Near the railing by the port side of B turret, she’s been out there since the rain started.”
“Oh?” I tried to look out the window to catch a glimpse of the cruiser, but the turret was blocking the view. I kicked myself for being so distracted when we got back to the ship. “I’ll go make sure she’s ok. Keep us out in the open ocean for now, we’ll figure out our next move soon. I’m sure Z23 can give us a good idea of what our supplies are like.”
“Roger, I’ll keep a lookout for anything.”
Just as I turned to leave I felt her hand grab mine. I looked back to see what it was she wanted. After rocking on her feet a few times she finally spoke “Uh… about what happened this morning, if you wish to talk about any of it. I'm always willing to lend an ear.” There was the slightest hint of a blush on her cheeks
“Thanks… it's been a shock to the system, I'll be sure to remember your offer if I need it.” I made way towards the door. I stopped at the frame. “Warspite?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you. I know I say it a lot, but I truly mean it. Thank you for everything.” I said with gratitude. I left the bridge and walked out into the rain with a smile.
​
(A/N) Part 2 should come out shortly after this one. Or you can find it in its entirety on Fanfiction.

I’m 38 years old and have been perpetually single for the past 7 years, and had been getting to the point of giving up on meeting the love of my life and just finding someone to be in a relationship with because it’s so lonely watching all of your friends building lives with people when it’s so hard to even meet someone to get coffee with.
A month and a half ago I went to the Blink 182 show in my hometown, which was completely sold out. My buddy and I went to go to the bathroom between the openers and when I sat back down these two girls were sitting in our seats and had snuck down from the nosebleeds. We laughed and told them we needed our seats back but there were two open ones next to us that they could totally sit in. The people that originally had those seats never showed up and I spent the entire show talking to and hanging out with one of the girls, and on my way to the car I told my friend that “there’s something about this one, I don’t know what it is”. The fact that there were randomly two open seats in a completely sold out show, that no one ever came for, was insane to me and still isn’t lost on me.
Fast forward to now, and I’m in the early stages of one of the best relationships of my life. I feel like I’ve been struck by fucking lightning every time I’m with her.
Meeting people sucks, especially post 20’s, please do not give up, your person is out there. Mine was

--- Table of Contents ---
Winter 4986, 22 Aoimoth
They never locked the door. She checked the handle just in case. Did they honestly expect Her to stay in this white room forever without locking Her in? She opened the door just a crack and peeked out. No one.
The Cleric coughed. She closed the door quickly and pretended to examine the altar of Hengist on a nearby shelf, Her neck itching. The kindly man finished straightening his papers, slipping them into a desk drawer and locking it. So they locked their documents away but not the door? Or did they think he alone would be enough to stop Her if She chose to go out?
She watched the Cleric out of the corner of Her eye as he stood and stretched, but looked quickly to the altar again when he walked Her way. He stopped beside Her, bringing his hands up in a short prayer. He seemed nice enough, and She found Herself wanting to trust him. But Archmage Morndancer had moments when he was nice too.
She scratched the scales on Her neck, still unaccustomed to having unimpeded access to the area. The collar had become so much a part of Her that She felt awkward without it, never mind that it had been used to keep Her in line. She wondered again how these Paladins planned on keeping Her under control and debated different ways to find out without going so far that She would end up tied to one of these beds and stuck full of needles.
“Do you pray, Miss?” the Cleric asked, eyes still closed.
She shrugged, “I don’t really like one-sided conversations.” She glanced at him, half hoping he would get angry, maybe punish Her just a little, so She would have a better idea what methods they might use.
He laughed, “Yes, I remember occasions, before I took my Oath, when I wondered if Hengist could hear me.” he reached down and held Her shoulder for a moment, as long as his heat tolerance would allow, before letting his hand fall back to his side, “It's hard to take the word of others sometimes, but I know he’s listening. He delivered you from the Warlocks...” he let the idea trail as if he expected Her to thank the god for his intervention. But if Hengist had really wanted Her free, then why not come sooner? Why not when they had isolated Her? Even just an hour sooner would have saved Her treasures…
“Perhaps, when you’re ready, I will take you to the chapel.” he continued to smile, “Or perhaps you will find a greater calling to one of the other gods,” the Cleric shrugged, “We are not ones to proselytize.” She could only return his shrug.
She moved back to the window, Her favorite place in the infirmary. Below, a group of boys, young men really, practiced with weapons too small for Her to see. One stood apart from the others and She wondered what he'd done to be ostracized from the rest. She hadn’t met any of them yet and wondered if they were being kept from Her intentionally. She'd met with the Major General, Selibra, as well as another high-ranking Paladin, a woman, and a handful of Mages. Seeing the Mages, She'd been sure they were about to take Her to another tower, to lock Her in the basement again. They'd assured Her that wasn’t the case, and explained the difference between Her Mages -Warlocks- and true Mages -Guild members- though She still had a hard time believing them.
She wasn’t afraid. She'd gone past fear. There wasn’t anything more they could take from Her that the Warlocks hadn’t already taken. Instead, She was curious, what would they do? And how would She work around it?
Behind Her, the Cleric cleared his throat, “I’m going to the chapel,” She nodded without looking at him. Brom and Ran would leave Her alone for most of the day. This was a new place, but some things would always be the same. The door opened, then clicked closed again.
She stood at the window for a while longer before turning around and tilting Her head at the door. He hadn’t locked it… It must have been a mistake. She moved for the door and cracked it open just in case… The hall beyond was empty.
She looked back into the room with all its white, then back into the hall. Well... She'd wanted to test Her limits. She slipped out of the infirmary.
No one stopped Her, and nothing happened. She walked slowly at first, glancing at each door as though She expected it to swing open and reveal one of the Mages, fingers ready to snap. In the distance, a set of Paladins rounded a corner, and She froze. They spoke to each other, one laughing at something the other said. She glanced around for somewhere to hide before remembering that this was exactly what She'd wanted. If they saw Her out of Her room, they would undoubtedly take Her back, and if She resisted, they would have to play their hand. She just hoped the friendly Cleric wouldn’t get in too much trouble for forgetting to lock the door.
The Paladins' steps faltered when they noticed Her. Exchanging glances, one stepped forward, “Are you lost, miss?”
“No,” She answered, looking over Her shoulder. For a heartbeat She expected Brom to be there. He wasn’t. He never would be again. She forced the thought away. Locking it somewhere it couldn’t interrupt Her exploration, focusing on the Paladins.
The knight exchanged another look with his companion, who shrugged, “Well, if you need any help, please don’t hesitate to ask.” they continued past Her.
Turning to watch them go, She tilted Her head to one side, then the other. Slowly, a grin began to spread over Her face. With a wicked giggle, She set off down the hall, ready to explore until someone stopped Her.
***
Shon stood well away from the others, his dagger clenched too tightly in his left hand. The first day back, Master Daunas had tried to include him in training as if nothing had changed. Then Shon had frozen the practice grounds, and no less than ten of the sixteen squires had fallen on their backsides, letting slip a variety of colorful curses that had them all doing pushups in full armor for at least five minutes straight. After that, he had been ordered to do drills alone while the others practiced. “Just until Ivelm finishes your item,” Master Daunas had assured him.
The little dragon that now followed Shon everywhere, whistled from the roof covering the weapons racks. Shon tried to loosen his grip on his dagger. He was getting sloppy, focusing too much on not extending the blade with an extra three inches of ice and not enough on the precision of his strikes. He tried to keep the power pulled in, but it made him tense, and he often found himself holding his breath unintentionally. Getting frustrated only made it worse. Instead of fighting his visualized opponent, he felt like he was fighting himself. And losing.
The pseudodragon swooped down and landed on Shon's extended arm, distracting him further. Growling, Shon tried to shoo it away, shaking his arm but only causing the tiny beast to dig its sharp claws deeper. "Not now," he hissed at the dragon, who hissed back, sending a wave of annoyance into Shon's mind to join his own. It walked up his arm to his shoulder, wrapping its tail around his neck to help keep itself balanced as Shon continued to try and finish his form.
He'd been confused but intrigued by the flying cat-like lizard on the night it had shown itself, but was quickly finding the thing to be as annoying as the Sorcerer magic it represented.
On the first day he'd resumed training, the little dragon had attached itself to his shoulder, as it did now, and wouldn't get off no matter how in the way it got. He'd asked, threatened, and begged, but at most, it would move from one shoulder to the other.
On the second day, he'd ordered it to stay in his room, closing the door quickly before it could slip out. Shon had been pulled out of drills for the first time since his arrival to clean and reclean his trashed room after the pseudodragon had dug through his uniform box and desk drawers.
On the third day, he had to physically resist the urge to grab the thing by the neck and throw it across the courtyard. Though to his surprise -and annoyance- Master Daunas had actually stepped in. Speaking to the pseudodragon kindly but firmly, the Weaponmaster ordered it to leave him alone during lessons at least. And for the most part, it obeyed. The fact that it was pestering him now meant the lesson had to be almost...
The bell for their break rang out from the tower high above the fortress. Shon snapped to attention with the others, the little dragon twittering happily and swaying with the motion. When dismissed, he was the first to return his dagger, then cleared off to give the others room to do the same.
No one said anything when he went to the water barrel instead of the fortress. His friends were still mostly supportive, but even they were growing annoyed by his occasional loss of control. Like freezing the running trail, so on the next pass, they had to dodge icy footprints.
Breaking the thin layer of ice that had formed over the top of the water barrel and splashing the back of his neck with it, Shon stared at his wavering reflection until the water stilled. Cold blue eyes stared back until the little dragon stuck its head in the way, smacking Shon's nose with its wing. He slapped the water, sending it splashing up into the pseudodragon's nose. The little dragon hissed, then scooped up a huge wing-full and splashed it over his face and chest. He could feel the little dragon's mirth as it chortled its clicking laugh.
Shon could only sigh, he'd come to cool off out of habit, not necessity. He didn't really feel hot in the same way as before. The exercise and exertion still made him sweat, but he only seemed to grow colder. Like even his body was acting out of habit...
He waited for the others to finish crowding into the fortress, most heading to the showers, some heading for their rooms, and a few to the library to play cards and socialize. Shon glanced towards the weapons storage -with the boxes of daggers and racks of various swords and polearms- but shook his head. He was in no mood to continue the fight with himself, and instead made for his rooms.
Squires laughed in the halls, and Shon stayed close to the wall to give them space as he walked. The pseudodragon draped itself over his shoulder like a scarf so it wouldn't hit the stone or passers-by. Apparently, sometimes, it was conscientious of Shon's desires. Once in his room, Shon retrieved his journal and opened it on the desk, but then focused out the window without sitting down. In early winter, the sun was already setting, painting the skies in colors he could never hope to match with simple pencils and white paper. He normally enjoyed this time of year, when the wind grew chill and snow occasionally fell as a promise for the deeper winter to come.
Now, he wanted to hate the cold. He wanted to toss it and everything like it to the wind. But not only could he not rid Clearhelm of winter, he also couldn’t convince himself to hate it. The little dragon sent a wave of concern over him, whistling quietly.
Closing his journal Shon scooped it up and left. Even if he opened the window, not much of a breeze would reach him from there, so he made for the stairs to the central tower.
Though now the tower was used only to house the hour bells, it was originally designed to be a lookout. It offered a complete view of the surrounding area through ten tall glassless windows around the perimeter.
He picked a window ledge facing west and sat with his journal closed, just enjoying the cool breeze. The knots in his stomach eased, and the power he could still feel swirling around him calmed. The pseudodragon purred, and he reached up to pet its side. It was okay to still enjoy the cold, wasn’t it? He just wished he didn’t inflict it on others who never seemed to like it as much as he did.
Someone hummed behind him, and Shon jumped, spinning in his seat. A girl with golden hair stepped up to his window. Her eyes were closed, and the wind blew her hair back, revealing three scarlet stripes across her right cheek. They merged together on her neck into a single line that disappeared below her white hospital dress.
She smiled, and Shon had to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry, “I was sure they wouldn’t let me up here,” she said, opening her eyes and looking at him, still smiling, “But I suppose if you’re up here, then I can come and enjoy the view too.” She perched herself on the sill next to him and tilted her head to the side, looking for all the world like a curious kitten. The pseudodragon mirrored the expression with an inquisitive chirp. Were her pupils slitted? "You have a pseudodragon... are you a Mage?" She asked.
Shon looked away, but the little dragon wrapped its tail around his neck and chirped again, "I'm a Squire," he stated, though if more to himself or the girl, he wasn't sure.
"Oh, so you're here to be a Paladin?" she accepted his answer without argument, and Shon looked her way again to find her still smiling, "I don't understand the appeal, but if it makes you happy," she shrugged, but then narrowed her eyes at him, leaning closer and squinting. Shon leaned back, keeping his distance. “Your eyes... You were there, weren’t you? At the tower?”
Shon blinked. She'd switched topics so suddenly. He nodded in answer, and she sighed, turning in her seat and bringing her knees up to her chest. She was probably annoyed he hadn't answered verbally...
As she wrapped her arms around her legs, he saw that her red stripe continued out her left sleeve to break apart into three again along the back of her hand. Looking down, he noticed three more pointed stripes on her bare right foot that merged at her ankle to twist around and disappear back into her dress. Did they all meet somewhere in the middle? He had to shake himself to banish the mental image and turned to follow her gaze out over the horizon.
“Thank you…” she whispered, and he turned back to her, arching an eyebrow. It took her a moment to look away from the view and see his expression, but when she did, she continued without further prompting, “I don’t remember everything that happened, but I’m glad I wasn’t alone,” she smirked and looked back out to the horizon, continuing, “The Cleric thinks I should thank Hengist, but I don’t remember seeing him there, so I’d rather thank you instead.” Shon didn’t know what to think about that, but the girl didn’t seem to expect an answer.
The pseudodragon dug its claws into Shon's shirt and climbed down his chest, pulling at the fabric and scratching the skin beneath. It walked across his legs then over to the girl gingerly. Her giggle was small and quiet, and she didn't hesitate to reach out and pet the flying lizard, though she did so carefully with brief pats, "Careful little one, I'm not the safest person to touch..." she whispered down to it. Shon furrowed his brow in confusion at her words, and predictably the pseudodragon ignored them completely. Crawling up her knees until she lowered them again so it could reach her lap, where curled up like a cat, complete with purring.
She giggled again and stroked its back all the way down to its tail, "It doesn't even care..." she sounded in awe of the little dragon, and Shon couldn't blame her. He'd only ever heard stories of the beasties before he'd seen this one. But the dragon wasn't nearly as interesting anymore, not compared to this girl.
“What’s your name?” he blurted before thinking. And silently cursed himself into oblivion. He sounded like an idiot. Those were the first words he said? She was obviously content just petting the pseudodragon. Couldn’t he have at least waited for her to address him? Or ask something? She was probably up here to think. You have no idea what she’s been through; she probably wants to be alone…
But hadn’t she chosen to sit next to him? And she'd already spoken first...
As if to confirm his fears, she sighed in obvious annoyance, her head falling back to hit the side of the pillar with a whine. When she looked at him, he could somehow tell that if she was annoyed, it was with herself, “I know I should know it by now, but I don’t. Do you think I’m going to have to explain every time I meet someone new? It’s really embarrassing…”
Shon could only stare, trying to understand. She didn’t say she couldn’t remember her name, just that she didn’t ‘know’ it yet. But that didn't make any sense. “You don’t have a name?” he tried to confirm.
She shrugged, exaggerating the motion by bringing her shoulders all the way to her ears then letting them drop limply, “They always said that I would know my own name. But every time I tried to guess or make one up, they got mad at me. What’s your name?”
“Shon,” he answered slowly, still confused.
“And when did you know your name?” she tilted her head again, confirming Shon’s mental comparison with a kitten.
He shook his head, “No one just knows their name. They're given one when they’re babies.”
Her mouth fell open for a full heartbeat before it snapped shut again, and she glared into the setting sun. The air had grown strangely warm, the pseudodragon chittered, and Shon fumbled for something to say, “What did they call you if you don’t have a name?” She'd said 'they' had told her she would know her own name, so that must mean 'they' had spoken to her. He could only assume she meant the people at the tower. The memory of burned corpses flashed through his mind, and once again Shon regretted speaking.
She didn’t look at him as she answered, “Ran called me ‘Red,’ for my scales,” she ran the fingers of her right hand over the stripes on her left, “Brom called me ‘Goldy,’ for my hair,” she brought a lock over her shoulder and stroked it absently, “But the Archmages didn’t like it when they did that…” the pseudodragon watched her dangling hair, swaying its neck back and forth to follow its motion.
Those sounded like nicknames someone gave a pet… He remembered Ivelm saying something about her being experimented on, like an animal. Shon brought his hand up to run through his hair, thinking fast. “You could pick one.” she looked at him, and he rushed to continue, “No one can stop you, and it could be temporary, just until you know your true name." whatever that meant, "Even the gods used to have different names depending on the province.”
“A name,” her eyes glazed over as she stared into the setting sun and absently started petting the dragon again. It tilted its head up at her and whistled, “I don’t even know where to start…” she whispered.
Shon searched the horizon for inspiration but saw only trees and birds. “What’s your favorite flower?” he blurted.
She focused on him again, “Flowers have names?” she asked. When he nodded, her cheeks puffed out, and she glared at him. Looking away again, she grumbled, “Even flowers get names, and I just have to sit around and wait for one to come to me?”
Shon opened his journal, turning it to the side and drawing quickly. The girl stopped mumbling to herself and looked over his shoulder, the pseudodragon crawling to the edge of her knees so it too could tilt its head at his drawing. He usually hated when people tried to watch him draw, but -for some reason- was able to continue without being distracted. It was a drawing for her after all, it made sense that she should see it. Never mind that she was so close... close enough for him to feel the warmth from her skin... or perhaps that was his imagination.
Finishing the final flower, Shon turned the book towards her. “Which one do you like most?”
She stared transfixed at the six flowers depicted, and Shon suddenly felt self-conscious. He'd only personally seen four of them, the other two he'd copied from memories of other drawings in books. She reached out, and her fingers hovered over the rose for a moment before she rested it on a six-petaled lily. The little dragon trilled in approval.
“Lily,” Shon said, then tried to explain, “I trained with a girl named Daisy,” he tapped the daisy flower on the page, “Daisies were also her favorite flower, so I thought…”
“It’s so beautiful…” she whispered, then grabbed his hand, desperately searching his face, “Can I really use it as a name?”
Shon’s heart skipped a beat. Her hand was hot, and he felt his power flow to where she touched, cooling his skin and making it tingle. Even before his power had awakened, everyone else had gotten colder the longer he touched them. As if he were pulling the warmth from them.
Her heat seemed unending.
Even more transfixing was the desperation in her eyes, which were dark blue and slit, like the pseudodragon's, who had crawled from her lap onto his journal and was studying the other flowers. Finally, Shon managed a nod, adding, “You can have whatever name you want. It’s yours.”
She looked at the flowers again and whispered, “Lily…” she seemed to chew it over for a moment, then smiled. And Shon realized all those before hadn't been in true happiness. This was her first real smile. “Lily.” her joy lit up the darkening sky and caused Shon’s heart to race, making up for its lost beats, “My name is Lily!” Lily pulled his hand closer to her and gripped it with both of hers, “Thank you. Oh wow, thank you, Shon!”
He could bask in that smile for hours. He stared at her, trying to memorize every line. Then she finally looked down at his fingers, and her brow furrowed. Oh no…
“It doesn’t hurt?” she asked.
Shon pulled away from her, looking away so he wouldn’t have to see her rub her palms on her dress, “No.” he answered shortly. She'd held his hand longer than anyone even before his awakening, but she'd been distracted by picking her name. She was probably freezing now…
He didn’t want to see her trying to warm her fingers after holding his, so instead, he focused on his journal, pushing the pseudodragon gently off so it wouldn't scratch the papers, then slowly working the page with the flowers out of it.
The breeze picked up, and Shon ran his hand through his hair, stealing a glance Lily's way. Her eyes were closed and she'd turned to face the wind again, “Refreshing…” she whispered.
He sighed. He could still feel her hands wrapped around his, a phantom memory he would just have to hope would last. Shon held out the drawings to her. She blinked at them, then at him, then back down to the page again. “You can have it,” he told her.
Lily hugged him.
Shon stiffened instantly. He'd never been hugged like this before. She smelled like cinnamon… Before he could fully register the sensation, Lily pulled away and took the page carefully with just her fingertips, “I will treasure it…” Shon felt himself blush, looking away to try and hide his face. Luckily Lily didn't seem to notice because she asked, "What's its name?"
Shon turned to look at her questioningly, only to see her tilting her head down at the pseudodragon. Shon's blush deepened. She was so happy to have a name, and now he had to tell her, "It doesn't have..." shame burned his cheeks, and he actually flinched when she looked at him in shock.
"You're not going to make it come up with its own, are you?"
"I... I just haven't..." Shon stuttered around for an excuse, but he really didn't have one, "I didn't think about it..." he finally finished, defeated.
He expected Lily to get upset, maybe chastise him, but instead, she just clapped her hands and smiled, "Well, we can fix that now." reaching down, she scratched the little dragon's chin, "Any ideas?" the pseudodragon purred, then climbed back over to her lap, wrapping its long tail around Lily's forearm so she couldn't pull away from the scratches.
"Pest," Shon mumbled.
Lily giggled, "That's not a name," she tried to stop scratching only to have it reach up and grab her fingers, forcing it back to its chin with both clawed hands. She giggled again, "Could be a nickname, though." the little dragon huffed but still wouldn't let her stop petting it.
"Pest..." Shon told it directly. Feeling jealous; the realization almost made him blush again. He was doing an awful lot of that all of a sudden.
"Well, it's a tiny dragon..." Lily mused, "So maybe something in draconic?"
Shon arched an eyebrow at her, but Lily just tilted her head at his unspoken question. "Draconic? Isn't that a dead language?" dead with the dragons who spoke it, he asked.
"You mean you don't speak it?" she answered with her own questions, "How do you read books written in it if you can't speak it?"
Shon shook his head, "I don't know of any books written in draconic..." he was becoming more confused by Lily every moment. The provinces all had their own ancient languages, but learning it these days was only an old tradition. No one actually used it. And yet the ones who'd held her, the ones who hadn't given her a name, had taught her a second language? A dead language?
"That's so weird..." Lily said, looking back out over the horizon. Just when Shon was sure she wasn't going to say anything else, she hopped a little in her seat, shaking the pseudodragon in her lap, "What about Ryuuko?"
Once again, Shon's eyebrow went up and Lily explained with a giggle, "It means 'little dragon.' Not very creative, I know, but if it likes it..." she dipped her head, lifting the pseudodragon's face to her nose, "Do you like it, little one? It's a bit feminine with the 'ko' at the end, but..." the little dragon licked her nose and Shon felt a wave of approval from the creature.
"I think it likes it." He told Lily as she laughed, pulling the pseudodragon in for a real hug, rubbing her cheek along its scaled neck.
Around them the bells sounded at full volume. Shon and Lily covered their ears, and Ryuuko took off, flying in circles around the bell tower, chittering angrily at being surprised. Lily laughed, but Shon could only hear the resonating rings shaking him from his head to his toes as the bells counted out the hour.
When the last bell faded, Lily dropped her hands, her laugh turning to a snicker, “I suppose that means it’s dinner time.” her smile faded, disappearing over the course of a few heartbeats, “I should probably get back to my room…” she clutched the page Shon had given her to her chest as if afraid it would be snatched from her fingers.
Ryuuko landed on Shon's shoulder as he stood, and Lily slowly lowered her feet back to the ground as if heading towards a hangman’s noose. It had been at least six days since the incident that brought her to Hamerfoss. Had she been eating in the infirmary all this time?
Shon arched an eyebrow at her, and Lily met his expression with a confused tilt of her head again. Shon asked, “Come to dinner with us?” and Lily’s smile lit up the night.
--- Table of Contents ---
Thanks for making it this far, you are the real MVP

THE compulsive gambler sub consciously wants to lose his shirt, of course, along with everything else he owns, and so he again and again puts down the rent money on the Montreal Expos or 80‐to‐1 2‐year‐old maiden fillies wear ing blinkers and bandaged forelegs. And if he's nothing else, Walter Matthau, the 50‐year‐old stage and movie actor, is a compulsive gambler. A few years ago, for instance, while in Florida to film episodes of a TV series called “Tallahassee 7000,” Matthau breath‐takingly managed in a mere two weeks to drop no less than $183,000. He lost the money, moreover, not by backing crippled nags at Hialeah but mainly instead by betting on the outcome of spring training baseball games, a way of tossing bundles of money out the window that should surely that year have won him the Nobel Prize for masochism.
Since dropping that $183,000, sum that eventually took, him six years to pay off to his increa ingly impatient Mafia ‐ connected book maker, Matthau has cut down con siderably on the amounts that he bets, especially when he goes to race tracks, and on a good day at Holly wood Park he can now come happily home having lost only $400 or $580.
Still, he continues casually to bet thousand dollars or so on things like N.B.A. play‐off games or whether or not a friend can name the capital of Albania, and so remains a prime example of the evils of gambling to all those New Yorkers who are thinking of taking a first‐time fling at the ponies because of an easy access these days to offtrack betting windows in Grand Central Station and elsewhere. “I think that off‐track betting is great for New York,” dryly remarked Matthau during a recent three‐day visit to the city from his home in California. “I mean, it's so democratic—if they keep up off‐track betting long enough, every body in town will be on welfare.”
Of course, though he has the mo rose, hangdog look of a chronic loser, Matthas is scarcely a loser in everything he gets mixed up in. Far from it, as a matter of fact. For example, when signing contracts for his last several movies he chose to gamble on accepting a percentage of the profits in lieu of a salary, and at least one of these gambles has al ready handsomely paid off—his per centage of “Cactus Flower,” a film he made a couple of years ago with Ingrid Bergman and Goldie Hawn, has so far amounted, to more than a million dollars. And he's also on the way to making another million or so as his share of the profits from each of his two most recent pictures—“A New Leaf,” a wacky comedy in which he is co‐starred with Elaine May, and “Plaza Suite,” the film version of Neil Simon's exceedingly successful Broadway play. So, unlike almost every other compulsive gamb er in the country, Matthau is nowadays just about literally rolling in money. Besides, pleased with the way that his career is going, with his marriage, with his three children, and with his seaside home in Pacific Palisades, Calif., Matthau is even happy, an emotion not normally associated with the compulsive gambler.
HOW does a compulsive gambler get to be one? The story of Matthau's life is perhaps an object lesson to all of those who have lately been spend ing their lunch hours in Grand Cen tral Station to wait in line for the dubious privilege of giving away their money to Howard Samuels and his Off track Betting Corporation. In any event, Matthau was born on the lower East Side of Manhattan on Oct. 1, 1920, the son of an impoverished Russian‐Jewish immigrant from Kiev, in the Ukraine, and of a Lithuanian born Jewish mother.
When Matthau was 3 years old, and his older brother, Henry, was 5, his father, a worker at such odd jobs as serving subpoenas for law firms, lit out for parts unknown, leaving him and his brother to be raised by their mother, Rose, who managed to scrape a marginal living for herself and her sons by working as a sewing machine operator in garment district sweatshops. In 1935, when Matthau was 15 years old, he learned of his father's death in Bellevue Hospital. His mother is still living, and—sup ported in the grand manner by her sons (Matthau's brother lives now on Long Island and is a jobber of surplus Army‐Navy goods)—divides her time these days between a penthouse on West End Avenue and a condo in Miami Beach.
During his childhood, Matthau, his brother and his mother lived in succession of cold‐water tenement apartments in the Ukrainian area of the Lower East Side, that is, around East Fifth Street near Second Av enue, being forced to vacate each apartment after only a few months because they'd got so hopelessly far behind in the rent that their land lord would have them evicted. Years later, when Matthau briefly sublet Paul Newman's house in Hollywood for $3,700 per month, he recalled with a shake of his head that $3,700 was more money than the Matthau family had spent on rent during 20 years on the Lower East Side. Mat thau, however, hasn't the slightest nostalgia these days for his poverty ridden childhood. “It was a night mare—a dreadful, horrible, stinking nightmare,” he grimly remembers.
On the Lower East Side, Matthau recalls, the highest ambition of most of his class ates was some day to become a salesman for a garment district dress house, for he himself secretly had far more exalted am bitions — by the age of 8, a day dreamer, a loner, a reader of Shake speare, he'd already determined to become a famous writer and actor. Encouraged by a teacher who ad mired his speaking voice, Matthau appeared in a number of school plays and also regularly recited poetry in school assemblies. On East Fifth Street, anyone who evinced an interest in poetry was thought by his classmates to be seriously lacking in machismo, and Matthau often found himself getting beaten up at recess by schoolyard bullies. So, already feet tall by the age of 10 (he weighed only 90 pounds, however, and, says Matthau, who is today 6 feet 3 inches tall and weighs 180 pounds; “when I drank cherry soda, I looked like thermometer”), he put himself through a regimen of muscle‐building until “I had Popeyelike bumps on my skinny arms and could beat up any body who made snide remarks about my poetry reading.”
When Matthau was 11 years old, in fact, one of those whom he alleges to have beaten up in the schoolyard was none other than Rocky Graziano, who grew up, of course, to become the middleweight boxing champion of the world. Of Matthau's claim to having beaten up Graziano, one can unequivocally make the following statement: The story either is or is not true.
IN any event, along with being a compulsive gambler, Matthau is also something of a compulsive stretcher of the truth. Or, to put it perhaps a bit more tactfully, a compulsive weaver of fiction when it comes to talking about his past. For example, bored with repeating the story of his life over and over again to interview ers, Matthau has on more than one occasion told newspapermen and magazine writers that his father was a defrocked Russian Orthodox priest who'd had to flee for his life from Czarist Kiev in 1906 because he'd been preaching sermons in support of Pope Pius X. And this story, told by Matthau to interviewers with an absolutely straight face, has appeared several times as the God's truth in such usually accurate publications as Time and Current Biography.
NOT long ago, too, when Matthau was in New York for a round of newspaper, maga zine, radio and TV interviews to promote “Plaza Suite,” chanced to be in earshot when he told a story to Neil Simon that he'd heard the night be fore from Gene Saks, the director, about a somewhat aging and hard ‐ of hearing actor who'd had trouble re membering his lines in a play last winter at the Palm Beach Playhouse in Florida. So, as Matthau told the story to Si mon, a prompter, unseen by the audience, was hidden in a hole cut into the front of the stage and instructed to call out only key words to the actor when a line was for gotten. “Drastic,” whispered the prompter when the actor went up in his lines on the opening night of the play. From the hard ‐ of ‐ hearing actor, no response. “Drastic,” repeated the prompter in a somewhat louder voice. Again, no response. “Drastic,” the prompter now all but shouted. Still no response, upon which a man in the second row of the orchestra stood up and yelled “Dastic!” The actor heard him, smiled, remem bered his line, and the play went on.
As show‐biz stories go, not bad. Not so great, either. The following evening, however, happened to be on hand when Matthau was being inter viewed by David Frost on Frost's TV talk show and was asked, “What was your most embarrassing moment in the theater?” And, without batting an eyelash, Matthau pro ceeded to tell the “drastic” story as though it was some thing that had happened to him years ago on Broadway.
He concocts personal anec dotes that aren't true, Mat thau later somewhat abashedly told me, because they liven up otherwise boring inter views and make his past seem more colorful than it really was. “Like saying that my father was a Catholic priest — I figure that makes me more interesting than just another Jewish actor who had a pair of Jewish parents,” Matthau explained to me with a grin. “Jewish and Catholic— if I can just work a Protestant into my background, I'm all set.”

Green Day
Foo Fighters
The Cranberries
Blur
Oasis
Radiohead
Deftones
Korn
Nightwish
Alice In Chains
Pearl Jam
Soundgarden
Smashing Pumpkins
Stone Temple Pilots
Blink 182
The Offspring
Jimmy Eat World
Weezer
Hole
No Doubt
Rage Against the Machine
Red Hot Chili Peppers
Creed
Incubus
REM
Green Day - I love their Music.
Great melodies with a fun Pop Punk Background.
They have many Catchy songs Many years of quality records. I find their songs connecting to real life.
One of the most important Punk Rock Bands of all time.
Billie Joe is a great Singer. Mike and Tre are a solid rhythm section.
Dookie is a Classic 90s Rock Album
Billie Joe Armstrong has a crystal clear voice that it makes it easy for us to understand. 10/10
Foo Fighters - Very talented artists that wrote some very catchy and instantly recognizable signs that helped define Alt Rock for a generation
The Foo's are probably one of the best bands in the history of music. Dave Grohl is definitely one of the most talented singers, writers, guitarists, bassists, drummers, etc ever. And the rest of the band compliments his talent perfectly. 10/10.
The Cranberries - Dolores had a great voice, she had range and power.
They have some truly amazing songs. Dolores’s voice was unique and so beautiful.
Their Album No Need To Argue is one of the Greatest 90s Rock Albums.
She wrote about child loss and eating disorders and breakups and war and injustice and so many heavy topics
They were so unique in their sound and their content, while have very diverse sounding songs but still instantly identifiable as the same band. (Zombie). They sounded right on time for the era but also I feel like it could still be released today. 10/10
Blur - underrated 90s band. They definitely captured the britpop sound that was big in the Uk at the time and the only time they tried to take on (or parody) American rock was with song 2 which ironically became their biggest hit. Their first album leisure has some great tunes on it and has a very shoegaze type sound and is pretty heavy. Their second album Modern life is rubbish is very Bowie and probably my favorite. Park life, their third album, is probably their best
Oasis - the arrangement of Oasis songs are pretty simple - Noel writes a simple chord line, solos all over the scales - major, relative minor, higher octave (of the same note) etc. The lyrics are written primarily by Noel and generally tend to connect to the common folks . Women in particular are easily swayed by Oasis' music mainly because it is a fairytale - Two brothers who are working hard and succeeding together. There are two different vocal feels to Oasis' songs - The Liam feel and the Noel feel. Liam sings songs that require a tenacious , snarling voice. Such songs (Supersonic, The Hindu Times, Morning Glory, Whatever etc) are extremely energising. Noel's feel is more melodic and melancholy. Such songs (Don't Look Back In Anger, The Importance Of Being Idle etc) are more guitar oriented . There are also songs where both the brothers sing a part each (Acquiesce , Let There Be Love)
Radiohead - they establish a complex system of unnatural sounds, organized into mesmerizing sonic layers to engage even the most jaded music lovers.
Radiohead is not perfect in every way • Deep Lyrics with a little touch of mysticism and fiction in them.

• Pioneers in Experimental music and the use of strange voices.
  
• Sleepy, and Soft voice of Thom Yorke.
  
• The revolutionary use of Space ambient music in songs. (DayDreaming and pyramid song etc.)
  
• Haunting compositions with melancholic and self-loathing tunes. 10/10
  

Deftones - There is just something so ethereal and mysterious about the Deftones sound that draws you toward them. I have never heard another band than create an atmosphere like Deftones. I also dont know of any other band that can make you want to kill all the lights in the listening space and have an absolutely spiritual jam session. It's interesting because most artists tell how the song should make you feel whereas Deftones more or less suggest emotions as opposed to forcing them on you. They are masters of creating their own weather with each track. 10/10
Korn - They have a special place in my heart for being one of the bands to get me into heavier music. 10/10
Nightwish - 10/10
Alice In Chains - Layne Staley had one of the greatest rock voices of all time. 10/10
Pearl Jam - Their contribution continues to be huge. 10/10
Soundgarden - One of the Best Rock Bands in history. They were revolutionary in the way they wrote music. Cornell’s range was (at the time) unheard of and completely unhuman voice. He had perfect control of every octave he had in his range. His technique, tone, enunciation, and everything else was absolutely perfect. He could scream like a banshee from hell and wail like a martyr. His voice was beyond powerful. “Burden in My Hand” is one of the most beautiful songs ever, both lyrically and musically. This is a song that can make a grown man weep, the song being about a man that killed his lover, left with his feelings and his revolver, a burden in his hand. He has been remarked as the Best Rock singer in history by Axl Rose himself.
Kim Thayil is also a VERY underrated and brilliant guitarist, Ben Shepard is a very talented (and underrated) bassist and Matt Cameron is an absolute master of drumming.
Smashing Pumpkins- Don’t like Billy’s Voice 5/10
Stone Temple Pilots - Weiland composed amazing contrapuntal vocal melodies, Robert DeLeo is an absolute MONSTER of a bassist, and their songs are catchy asf and super atmospheric and emotive.
And they’re one of the only bands ever to successfully pull off a damn good second lead singer with Gutt—somehow he both emulates Weiland while still having his own uniqueness and blending right in perfectly with the band as though he was always a part of it. They’re pros, and they have written incredible rock tunes. Amazing lyrically and vocally. Perhaps underated. One of the best alt rock bands of the era.
Scott had an amazing voice. 10/10
Blink 182 - Pop Punk Legends 10/10
The Offspring - 10/10
Jimmy Eat World -6/10
Weezer - 7/10
Hole - Great Band But I don’t like Courtney Love 6/10

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/61ZuDzeOBLQgqOWMZtHyDI?si=5S2y4y-xRGWdCO6Dz7EPMg
A playlist I made for a buddy of my personal favorite blink tunes with my personal favorite side projects, features, etc.
Plenty of playlists that just include every song, but these are my curated faves. Cheers!

blink-182, Neck Deep, ACDC, Nirvana, & FOB
Mainly those

FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
Keep in mind: never skip leg day!
Previous First [Next](link)
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
The human pulled to a stop, huffing and puffing, hands on his knees as he took in great big breaths. Krill could see ribs through his skin as the great bellows expanded and then contracted. Sweat slicked the skin as the body desperately tried to cool itself.
"Heart rate 165."
The human straightened himself out, coughing once or twice to clear his throat, reaching out and wiping his face with a towel.
He threw the towel over one shoulder and stretched the large muscle groups in his chest, stomach and back, pulling tight.
Sunny leaned against the wall just to their right, both sets of arms crossed over her chest,
"So, what is this supposed to be for? Is this like a dominance thing or something?”
The human wiped his face again and raised an eyebrow,
"It's exercises, Sunny. You know? So I can be fit enough to pass the UNSC PT exam, or perhaps so that I can do my job better, or maybe because I look better when I'm more fit.”
Sunny turned her head to look at him, her eyes scrunching down a little, as Krill went to take notes on a clipboard.
"You mean... You didn't just grow to being that size?”
The human glanced down at Krill incredulous,
"IS she serious? Do the Drev like, not have to work out?"
Krill shook his head,
"Drev do not have subcutaneous fat deposits like humans do. Any acquired deposits are stored below the carapace between the connective tissue, padding them down and giving them more protection."
Sunny looked between them in confusion,
"Wait, hold on... I'm confused."
The human toweled off his hair,
"I have to work out to look like this Sunny. If I don't use it, I lose it."
She turned to look at Krill.
He tucked the holo-pad under one arm,
"You see, Sunny. Humans are meant to adapt. They can adapt mentally, and they can adapt physically. The body changes to match the requirements of its environment. Sometimes this takes years to do, for instance if you take a light skinned population of humans and put them somewhere with a lot of sun, and keep that population in complete isolation, after a few generations, the skin will darken to compensate for the increased UV light. However, these things happen on a smaller level. The body fluctuates to adapt to the amount of physical work which is required."
The human nodded,
"Exactly. Running strengthens the heart, and it increases the hemoglobin in my blood, so that I can run for a longer time with more oxygen. If I were to stop running, I would lose all of that and have to work back up."
Sunny stared at him incredulous,
"So, you have to force your body to be able to perform correctly. Like, it can't just DO what it needs to do, but you have to convince it over years of training to be able to do what you want?”
The man shrugged,
"Well anything sucks when you phrase it like that."
He turned and motioned them to follow,
"Historically, humanity was evolved in an environment with little food. We ate a diet heavy in proteins, fiber, and natural carbs from fruit. Fat is an essential part of a human's diet, but it is relatively difficult to find in nature. Because of this, the body adapted to make humans love and crave fatty and sugary foods for energy. Well since well into the twentieth eighteenth century, fatty foods were becoming commonplace, and easy to get our hands on, but the body wasn't aware of that, so it continued to treat these new fatty foods the way our bodies would have treated them back when we were huntegatherers storing every last bit up for use later."
Sunny followed after in fascination,
"I see, so now you have... Too much of a food that your body craves."
The human looked over his shoulder,
"You got it, and the body doesn't know when to stop storing fat. It'll just keep going. So, if I were to sit on my ass all day eating chips, I would lose the muscle and I would get bigger as fat deposits were stored up for energy."
Sunny shrugged,
"What is the problem with that?"
The human tapped his chin lightly,
"A few things, I guess. For me, at least, if I were to just stop working out, I wouldn't be able to do my job as well, I wouldn't be able to run as far, or to jump as high, or to lift as much. And lifting myself up in a pullup would be impossible, and considering the amount of times we have all almost fallen off a cliff, or had to haul ourselves up rope, you would think that would be a bad idea. Not to mention that the larger you are, the harder your heart has to work as the blood supply is forced to expand, and since you aren't working out your heart it gets weaker but has to do more work, which –in turn– increased the risk of heart issues. Compounding all that I wouldn't be able to sit in a cockpit or pilot a jet properly."
Sunny shook her head,
"That seems like a very... annoying model. You can never just relax. You always have to work to keep your body where it should be. And the amount of self-control you have to have..."
The human laughed,
"You have no idea how much self-control I need when a box of doughnuts gets in my way."
He sighed,
"Keeping my abs has been a real struggle, but luckily the UNSC drilled some self-discipline into me when I was still young."
"So, you weren't always this big?”
The human snorted,
"No not in the slightest. In fact, I was so skinny, you could see my heart beating through my rib cage.”
Sunny grimaced.
"Yeah I know, kinda gross. Those are your two directions. If you don't work out your either super scary skinny, or you get a bit big. If you're working out right, you get muscles."
He turned around, flexing proudly for them to outline the lines of his biceps, chest and stomach.
Sunny would have rolled her eyes back into her head, but she supposed, now that she knew he had to work for it, she was at least somewhat proud of him.
"Ok, I have a question then."
"Shoot."
"Can you get bigger?"
More laughter,
"Oh yeah, totally, but I'm not THAT dedicated."
They were just coming around a corner when the commander skidded to a halt, eye to chest with an absolutely massive human.
Even Sunny stepped back in surprise.
This human was large enough to look Sunny in the eye, with shoulders about as wide as her, and a chest that looked like it could have benched a small car.
It was almost comical, a moment ago Sunny had assumed that the commander was a large human.
"Wow there, big man. I'd rather not get steamrolled today, thanks."
The large human glanced down at the commander.
"Sorry sir."
He grunted, before stepping around and walking up the hall.
Sunny watched him go,
"What do you have to do to get that big!?”
"You practically have to live at the gym."
They turned the corner, walking into a large room, with strange machines of unknown use.
And in here there were humans of all sizes and shapes, but most of them absolutely massive. Those who lacked height, did not lack muscle.
Male humans, female humans, all of the above.
A tiny female human stood at one of these machines, carrying a bar on her shoulders with enough weight that sunny assumed it might crush her. Instead, she squatted down to the floor and stood back up.
The captain blinked and motioned towards her
"Holy shit."
"She squats more than me by the way. You see these guys are insane. I work out to maintain, these guys do it because it’s their hobby."
Krill floated upwards to whisper in Sunny's ear,
"For the muscle to enlarge, the fibers must tear open, and then the body comes back and repairs the tear to withstand the pressures that tore it in the first place.”
Sunny stared at Krill incredulously,
"So you're telling me, they just... Tear themselves apart to get like that?”
The commander left them standing in place, walking over to the wall and jumping upwards, catching his hands around a black bar welded to the wall, the muscles in his back, just below the shoulder blades flexed as he pulled himself upwards, the muscles in his shoulder blades rolling under the skin.
They continued to watch as the commander did his set, a little bit of everything for demonstration purposes. Getting off one of the leg machines, one of these large female humans walked past, sitting where he had just sat, reaching out, pulling out the peg and bringing the weight almost to the bottom of the plates.
The commander leaned in,
"See her, she could probably crush your skull using just her legs."
He sighed,
"Man, I only WISH I could be that badass."
”Yeah, I am sure THAT’S whats you are wishing when you see those thighs…”
He looked up at Sunny,
"Sometimes I come here just to knock myself down a peg."
Across the room, one of these massive humans was hauling a huge bar, lined with weight on either side up over his head like it was nothing.
"You see that, that would probably invert my spine if I tried to do it."
"Must you be so graphic?"
"Yeah, because that's how much of a wuss I am."
Looking around, Sunny wasn't convinced entirely of his status as a wuss.
He had all the requisite muscle groups of even the largest humans, and more than some. There were great swatches of the human population who, even here, were missing some things.
A few of the humans had large arms, but small legs, big legs, but small arms, no chest, or chest and no abdominal muscles.
Yes sure, he may have been smaller than their largest, but he WAS well rounded…Arms, chest, stomach, legs, back and shoulders.
She found herself surprised at the smug satisfaction in comparing her human to the other humans.
Sure, her human couldn't bench THAT much, but he also had better legs, so there.
"You ok, Sunny?"
She turned her head to look at him.
"Just thinking."
She said and he shrugged at her and returned to do his workout.
It's hard to be a human.
They have to work for everything they have, especially when it comes to their body.
Previous First [Next](link)
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.

Hey i’m new to blink-182. I’ve listened to a few songs, but i’m not sure to really start. Any suggestions on albums, songs, etc?