Summary: Cody Fett is enjoying a night out with his brothers, when a blast from the past in the shape of the Ex he had struggled to get over walks in and turns his life upside down. Will Cody be able to say what's been haunting him all these years? Will Obi Wan be willing to listen? and what happens when their families can't quite get out of their way?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Excerpt:
“Fuck” Cody whispered under his breath. The lights in the bar were low, the music thumping in his ears, the base making the floor vibrate.
“Hmm?” Rex asked, leaning I with his right ear.
“I said, Fuck.” Cody said louder, his eyes not wavering from the spot near the entrance.
“Why?” Rex asked, turning his head to follow Cody’s eyeline while taking a swig of beer.
“My ex.” He said, jerking his bottle over to a raucous party of young men and the slightly older one who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Which one?” Rex asked.
“College. Years ago now. It didn’t end well.”
“Why?” Rex asked, his eyes squinting a little.
“His brother ended up getting a girl pregnant. He had to deal with it after his Dad died.”
“So? Why did it end badly?”
Cody sighed. “I was kind of an asshole.” He said reluctantly.
“Oh, that fits. Taking after Dad I see.” Rex said with a chuckle. Cody winced as though he had hit him. “Hey, I was joking. You’re nothing like Dad. Wasn’t he the one you brought to Thanksgiving. The last one with Dad around? He’s the one with the beard, right?”
“Yeah. Dad thought I should marry him. Look, can we get out of here now?” Cody asked.
Rex smirked and shook his head. “I think it’s a bit late for that now. He’s coming over.” He said with delight.
“Hello, Cody.” Obi Wan said with a pleasant smile.
“Oh, Um…Hi, Obi Wan. You remember Rex?”
“Of course,” Obi Wan said pleasantly. “How’s the police academy treating you?”
“That was a few years ago.” Rex said with an appreciative nod that Obi Wan had remembered, “I just got promoted to detective, actually. We’re celebrating.”
“Oh, well congratulations. I won’t interrupt, just wanted to say hello.”
“No”, Rex almost shouted, “you should stay, keep Cody company while I run to the bathroom.”
Cody cursed his brother’s retreating back as he struggled to meet Obi Wan’s blue eyes.
“How’s the family?” he asked.
“Good. Good, thank you. Anakin’s getting married. He and his friends are on his bachelor party crawl. Dragged me along under the obligation of DD more than anything.”
“Right. Right. So, when do you get to have fun?” Cody asked, feeling heat climb in his cheeks as moments of his past fun with Obi Wan flashed in his mind.
“When I leave them all in a drunken heap on his doorstep, I assume.” Obi Wan said with a laugh.
Cody chuckled. “You look good.” He said, inwardly cringing at the comment but enjoying the surprised look on Obi Wan’s face.
“Very kind of you to say. I have a few more grey hairs since we last met.”
Cody shrugged. “It looks distinguished.”
“Oh? I’ll be sure to use that next time Anakin or Ahsoka comments on it.” He said with a smile.
They fell into an awkward silence. As Obi Wan sipped his cranberry juice, Cody wondered what he usually did with his hands. He ran them down his shirt to get rid of the sweat and went to put them in his pockets before deciding it looked too weird and casually held his palms in front of him like some chaste maiden.
“Sorry, this is awkward.”
“I should probably go.” They said at the same time.
“Oh, okay.”
“Sorry, what?”
Cody laughed and was relieved to see Obi Wan do the same.
“I owe you an apology, for the last time we…when we…I owe you an apology…” Cody said, conscious that he may not have heard over the rattle of the music.
Obi Wan’s eyes softened. “It was a long time ago, Cody. Don’t worry about it.”
“Let me buy you a drink. I mean, not now. Maybe we can catch up sometime. My number’s still the same.”
Obi Wan smiled and looked down at his drink bashfully. “I would like that very much. My number’s the same too.”
Cody saw Rex exit the bathroom as a large cheer erupted over the other side of the bar.
“I suppose that’s my cue.” Obi Wan said a grin. “Enjoy your evening, Cody.” He nodded at Rex and walked back to his group.
“How’d it go?”
“You do that again I’m gunna fucking kill you.” Cody rasped, taking a deep swig of his beer.
“But how did it go?” Rex continued.
“We’re gunna get a drink to catch up.” Cody relented.
“Ha-ha. Do I know my brother or what?” he asked the universe at large.
Some of the residents of Urithiru get together to smoke some weed
--
Stormlight Archive crackfic, probably set around book 4 i dont remember, rated T for toking, 2,433 words so far
Written almost entirely while also gorked out of my gourd, expect only a tangential adherence to canon. Extremely silly. Doesn't even get to the good part yet, let me know if it should!
Did you even need Green Writs in Urithiru? Should we even bother asking Dalinar Kholin such a stupid question? Where did Shallan even find the plants, given that Shinovar doesn't even presently have access via oathgate? Kaladin pondered these as he stood guard outside the room, in a far corner of Urithiru, waiting for his-- he gritted his teeth-- friends. It still felt a little strange to think of them as that, given the life-changing experiences the group of them had shared. Comrades felt a little too formal, however, as you generally wouldn't be planning a relaxing session of smoking weed with your coworkers in arms.
To Kaladin's knowledge, the plant-- a weed grown exclusively indoors to the North-- was about as illegal as firemoss. That is, you probably won't be jailed for using it, but the amount of respect you garnered would drop drastically. It was a lazy sort of thing, used mostly by teenagers or for alcoholics whose bottles ran dry. His father, after boiling it in an oil, had used it medicinally with patients, sparingly, for over excitable nerves or cancers. Or for people afraid of becoming addicted to firemoss. It wasn't a particularly enticing drug to Kaladin. It made people stupid. And smoking it produced a far worse effect than the burning of moss, like the scent of a mink's musk, or certain varieties of crushed cremlings. A dank stench that stuck to everything around you.
"I still think you should at least try it," Sylphrena said, alighting on his shoulder after scouting down the hallway and back. "It might help you take that stick out of your behind." She crossed her arms, willing her clothing to turn to something akin to pyjamas, a nightgown and long loose pants with an Azish-style floral design upon them. "I want to try it. Maybe Shallan can bring some into Shadesmar for me."
"You are not going to smoke weed, Syl. And I won't be either. Someone needs to keep watch so that this doesn't cause any bigger issues than it already probably has." With his words, a figure appeared in the end of the hallway, causing Kaladin to snap to attention. He relaxed when he saw it was Shallan, who checked the hallway then reached back to drag Adolin by the hand to the room.
"Are we all prepared?" Shallan said, a little giddy already. She hadn't started smoking, had she? Kaladin didn't smell anything, so he assumed it was just her usual level of annoying bubbly personality.
"The room is secured, the vents are filled with potpourri, and your serving woman left a tray of cheese and bread on the table. She also wished your 'date with Adolin' well," Kaladin reported. "Who all did you tell about this?"
Shallan moved about the room, taking things from her bag and setting them out. A package of candied fruits she had procured joined the cheese tray. A few magazines were set out on the table, Pattern warping the covers of them as he drank in the images. Lastly, she pulled an interesting fabrial from a box.
"Just you, Adolin, Lopen, Lunamor, and-"
"You told Bridge Four." It wasn't a question as much as a statement, the way it sighed from Kaladin's teeth. He couldn't think of a worse group of men to tell about this. Half of them were notorious chatterboxes, the other half were people who couldn't be trusted with psychoactive plants.
"Well, yeah," Shallan said, shrugging and pulling a large metal disc, the size of a serving plate, from her bag. "Where else would I have gotten weed?" She picked up the fabrial, a large stone wrapped in a wire cage, and unfolded a metal stand from it, as well as a needle-like appendage. She set the needle against the edge of the metal disc, which spun slightly at her touch. The fabrial glowed a soft silvery color and let out a singular, powerful note. Shallan clapped at that and turned to Adolin. "Be sure to thank your mother for letting me borrow this!"
"You told Navani Kholin? The storming Queen?" Kaladin's hands reached up to rub at his face. He really should have gotten a scribe to write them some writs now. Maybe Shallan could do it quickly if anyone came. If Kaladin insisted this was all purely medicinal, maybe they wouldn't be in as much trouble as he was certain they would be in now. Now that Navani knew they would be smoking weed.
"She doesn't know what it was for, just that Shallan wanted to see it. You worry too much, Bridgeboy," Adolin said, clapping Kaladin on the shoulder and moving to sit on the couch. "I think it's just going to be Rock and Lopen anyways. Uhm, and maybe a few others but probably just them!" He watched Shallan with rapt attention as she opened a waxed fabric bag, unleashing the pungent and distinct odor of the weed within. Reaching in with her freehand, she selected a few buds and placed them inside the bowl of a mortar and pestle. As she ground them, Syl appeared to the trio to let them know the aforementioned bridgemen were on their way. Kaladin unlocked the door, pulled the hulking horneater and lanky windrunner in, and lashed the door shut behind them for good measure.
"Provisions!" Rock chirped, hoisting up a paper box that was nearly soaked through with grease. "Is fried tubers, nothing fancy. Ha! We will not be caring about this soon!" He set it down beside the cheese board, wrinkling his nose at the selection. "Is good thing I brought them it seems."
"And we won't be bored, Rua said he wants to play hide and seek with us until we can't find him no more," Lopen said, then produced a small metal device from his pocket with great reverance. "Behold, gentlemen and lady. Ladies?" He cocked his head at Shallan, then shrugged and made a great show of scraping the metal thing against his thumbnail, making several sparks shower off it. "A Sparkflicker! Perfect for keeping warm in the cold and lighting righteous J's with the lads." From the sparks his spren, Rua, danced forth in the form of a ceremonial dancing larkin puppet, the kind that take four men to operate during parades. He danced up to the top of Lopen's head and bounced back and forth, idling.
The strangeness of the group struck Kaladin as the five of them, not counting the spren, settled on various chairs and the floor around the low table. A horneater with a wife and kids, an alethi prince, a veden woman, the Lopen, and, well, whatever Kaladin was. He didn't need to think about that right now. All he needed to do for the next few hours was watch over the quartet of idiots as they smoked themselves silly, and stop them from killing each other or being fools. The latter seemed likely impossible, but he would do what he could.
Shallan smoothed out a piece of thin paper, then tipped the contents of the mortar onto it. She wet the fingers of her freehand in her glass of water, then deftly rolled.... something from it with just the one hand. Her safehand was inside her sleeve still, instead of gloved like it was when she was Veil. The silken fabric probably wasn't very good for making whatever it was with the weed. Shouldn't they be putting it in a censer? Maybe it had to be prepared like this first before being burned like incense. Or a prayer. Kaladin honestly had never seen it actually used for smoking before, only smelled it as his father simmered small batches of its oil on a fire outside.
"That's just about the worst I've ever seen anyone do it, goncha," Lopen said as kindly as he probably could have mustered. "For your sake, I won't embarrass you by showing you how to do it with one hand. Although, uh, I don't really right know how to do it with two. I haven't since I got lefty back." He flexed the fingers on his newly-regrown hand. "What about you, enne?" He pointed at Adolin. "Will you protect your beloved's reputation?"
Adolin groaned softly, leaning over to whisper in Shallan's ear. "Veil, you said you'd teach me before we did this." Shallan's body relaxed as Adolin pulled Veil to the front. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
"I thought it would be funnier if you didn't know how to. Fine, I'll show you boys how you're supposed to do it. Just uh, some privacy maybe?" She raised up her safehand, miming opening the buttons on its sleeve. The men rolled their eyes, but ultimately obliged. Kaladin looked away, towards the shelf by the door that Syl had perched on. She watched over his shoulder at Veil, then gasped and pointed.
"You didn't roll that, you just used a lightweaving to look like you did!" Sure enough, as Kaladin looked back at what she had made, he only caught a glimpse of it before Veil waved her hand, dismissing the lightweaving and revealing the lumpy little roll Shallan had made. At least Kaladin had realized now what she was attempting to do. She was making it look like one of the tea cigarettes he knew lighteyed women liked smoking. Veil bled away to what was clearly Shallan, who blushed and shirked back a bit.
Kaladin groaned, then shifted himself up onto the arm of the couch. "Move over, let me have that." She shifted closer to Adolin, allowing the bridgeman to drop beside her. He unrolled her handiwork and flattened the paper back out. He lifted up the corner of her sketchbook, tearing off a corner of a page and earning a shrieked gasp from the artist. He had been made to roll tea cigarettes for some of father's wealthier and higher ranking patients, to help with their nerves while they- or more often their husbands- went through procedures. It kept anticipationspren away, it was thought, and therefore superstitiously, other spren like rot or deathspren. He hadn't realized that weed could be smoked with this method. He folded the thicker paper into a short tunnel-like roll and placed it with the weed and paper before picking the whole set up, twisting it in his fingers before licking the length of it and completing the roll. Not bad, considering how long it had been since he did that last. When he looked up, a few awespren were fading from his four onlookers.
"Captain, I had no idea you were secretly cool," Lopen said, slackjawed. Rock thumped him on the back. It did look better than even Veil's lightweaving. He didn't have time to reply to either of them before a soft knock fell upon the door.
Kaladin glanced around the room with an eyebrow raised, meeting the shrugs of everyone else. Slowly, he stood up, creeping over to the door and motioning for Syl to look through the keyhole. Before he reached the door, however, Pattern began buzzing audibly.
"I know that knock! Mmmmm, yes, come inside Truthwatcher!" Behind the door, the someone quickly became identifiable as Renarin Kholin as he let out an "Eep!" at the title. Kaladin dismissed the lashing and let the prince in. Behind him stood Rlain. He looked different than when he initially joined Bridge Four, now armored and slightly taller.
"I apologize for being late, Glys doesn't like it when I wear the timepiece aunt, er, Navani made." Renarin twisted a bit of cord with assorted beads on it: wood, glass, fired crem, and metal. Each made a different sounding clack when rubbed together and bore different textures on the outside. He shuffled in, stepping aside for Rlain, shutting the door behind him and pressing his back against it. "Lunamor said I could come." This shifted the attention to Rock, who simply shrugged noncommittally.
Kaladin redid the lashing on the door and motioned for the newcomers to sit. This was starting to make the room cramped, but it wasn't like they had another place they could really do this right now. He opened his mouth to offer a word of caution to everyone, once again, but was cut short by Rua, dancing as little sparks around the weed cigarette on the table and chirping "Well get on with it!" Lopen shushed him, cracking his knuckles and displaying the sparkflicker once again.
"Lopen, you know we have candles, braziers, soulcasting-" Shallan, now herself once again, counted off on her fingers, looking around the room. "We have open flames to light the joint, is my point." She perked up, looking to Rlain for approval at her rhythmic rhyme, though he remained impassive.
"Open flames have no pizzazz!" He picked up the joint (had she called it?), and proffered it to Rock, who put it between his own lips. With a shower of a few sparks, and some light puffing from the horneater, the end of the joint came alight. The miasma of weed-scented air took on a different, but similar tinge.
"Oh this thing, this thing is nice," Rock sighed, handing the joint back to Lopen. He took it reverently, and breathed deeply of its smoke. He held the smoke in, passing the joint to Shallan, who didn't do anything with it, choosing to watch Lopen with a cocked eyebrow. The herdazian tan of his skin began to take on a slightly red, then nearly purple tone.
"Lopen, you still need air," Kaladin said, nudging him with his foot. Lopen grinned smugly, bringing a shorter huff of air in and sucking some stormlight in with it. His color returned to his skin and took on a faint glow with it. Eventually, he slowly let the smoke out, smoothly at first but tumbling into a coughing fit immediately.
"Well," he said, breathing deeply of fresh air. "I at least know my limit now."
"What did you think that would do?"
"Work better the deeper I breathed it. Like stormlight." He shrugged, then reached for a snack to avoid any further critique from his commander. Attention shifted to Shallan, who looked positively giddy. She held the joint primly, sucking lightly of its smoke. The silvery smoke wisped from her nose and lips quickly as she pulled the joint away and coughed into her safehand.
"That.... is kind of foul isn't it?" But her smile and giggle didn't agree. She took another quick puff before handing it to Adolin and standing. "Music, anyone? I'm sorry I have just the one..."
Summary: Cody is surprised to learn of Obi Wan's devotion, even after being separated for all this time.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Excerpt:
Cody woke to faint stirring in the room. It was dark, the blackout curtains doing their job against the constant illumination of the cityscape beyond. He felt next to him for Obi Wan, but his hand hit the sheets instead. He saw a faint silhouette as the bathroom door opened and even in his sleep deprived state, the outline of Obi Wan’s naked body did something to him.
“Come back to bed.” He said sleepily, his arm reaching out for him.
“I have to go home, love. You have to work in the morning and so do I.”
Cody leaned over, stretching his arm further. “I’ll drop you off on the way in. Come back to bed.”
“I have to shower and change, Cody.”
“Then I’ll get up early.”
“You really don’t…”
“Obi Wan. Come back to bed.” He said firmly. He saw Obi Wan hesitate but finally acquiesce. He climbed under the covers and Cody pulled him closer. “How were you going to get home? Walk?”
Obi Was chuckled as he snuggled into Cody’s grasp. “Show a little leg, I’m sure I could hitchhike.” He said in an amused voice. “Or get an uber.”
Cody breathed in slowly, catching a hint of Obi Wan’s shampoo. “I’m more than willing to adapt my morning routine for your presence, Obi Wan. You don’t need to sneak out.”
“I wasn’t sneaking. I was being thoughtful.” He said with a kiss on Cody’s chest.
“Well, don’t.” Cody huffed.
Obi Wan laughed in his ear and reached up to kiss his cheek. “Noted, my dear. Now go to sleep. You’re grumpy as fuck when you don’t sleep.”
Cody snorted. “Says the drama queen leaving in the middle of the night.”
Obi Wan snorted too as they collapsed into giggles in the dark. They finally settled down, the sounds of the city below muffled slightly.
Cody pulled Obi Wan in for a kiss before breaking away. “Are we moving too fast?” he asked into the darkness.
Obi Wan was quiet for a moment. Cody felt him shift and roll so his chest was partially on Cody’s. “I like to think of it as making up for lost time. But we can go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”
“We fucked on Friday; we’re practically moving in on Monday. By Christmas we’ll be married.”
“Well, only if we slow down a bit.” Obi Wan snarked against Cody’s neck.
“Obi Wan….”
“Do you feel like it’s too fast?” he asked simply.
Cody thought for a moment. “No.” he said honestly. “It just feels…right.”
“Well, that’s good enough for me.” Obi Wan replied, his hand grasping at Cody’s torso and pulling him closer.
“What about everyone else? Your family and mine?”
“Your opinion is the only one that matters to me, Cody. Now close your eyes and go to sleep. I’ll stay all night. I promise.”
Cody smiled and kissed the top of his hair. “Goodnight, Obi Wan.”
“Goodnight, my love.” He said with a sigh. Cody could hear is breathing soften and fade almost immediately. He smiled as he kissed his hair again and followed him into sleep.
immediate results: start to feel colder all the time
2-4 weeks: skin itches a lot, vegetables start to churn your stomach, mucous membranes like your eyes and mouth feel drier
3-6 months: skin starts to flake off in noticeable dandruff-like patches all over your body. you should start using an oil based moisturizer since the water based ones just dont do the trick anymore. You should also start transitioning your diet to insectivore. your coccyx hurts when you sit for too long.
6-9 months: a nub of a cartilage tail starts to work it's way out of your lower back. the skin it creates is smooth and doesn't look like scarring at all. it even has some spots on it. you've started noticing freckles here and there. Your eyes are also looking different, rounder and muted color.
12 months: your doctor offers genetic testing to approximate what morph you will be, since human phenotypes aren't a 100% accurate at predicting it. You decline, you want to be surprised. You've reached a point where you can't hide it anymore if you wanted to. Your hair is falling out all over now. Your skin peels off in patches like a sunburn, and every new layer is yellow or orange and some have spots. Your teeth sit weird in your mouth and feel smaller. Your tail is about a foot long now, it has a long way to grow. You mostly cook with cricket flour or eat premixed meals since you're not fully on board with eating half your weight in straight up bugs yet, but you're relieved roaches don't freak you out anymore. They just make you hungry.
18 months: your eyes are visibly spaced further apart, and your nose is starting to flatten out. you know your face won't look 100% like you want it to, the hormones can only do so much, but you already look positively reptilian. you shaved your head to help the hair finish up, and are surprised you don't miss it. your fingers feel less nimble now, and you have to wear braces to get anything done during the day. your claws take nail polish just fine. You pick up a new space heater at the store even though it's only August.
2 years: Your skin has evened out and mostly sheds all at once now. You think you're a tangerine carrot tail, judging by how yellow and spotted your body is, but orange and white your tail is. You're comfortably at a point where people stop asking "so what are you? a lizard?" as soon as they see how fat your tail is. your dating profile pics have a little too much tongue in them.
6 years+: some surgery helped fix some of the last little snags, tucking all your bottom bits into a neat vent, and finishing the shaping on your face. You don't even scar from them either, a win-win. Your partner is now used to running you a steaming shower whenever they see you rubbing your back on the corner of a wall. They're also good at judging your diet a bit too closely thanks to your squishy fat tail. When your work got too busy for a month and you lived off tea and handfuls of grasshopper granola, they could tell you weren't yourself as your tail thinned and drooped. They scheduled some time off so the two of you could go to the desert. It's so warm, even at night, this time of year, and you can see all the stars. They didn't want to kiss you after you ate a scorpion off the floor, but it was all worth it because you felt recharged, refreshed, and at home in your gecko body again.
---
just in case I never get around to drawing this I wanted to at least write it lol
Only tangentially related to the source of either really, It would be hell and a half to fully combine them welll
Obviously centers around Dalinar, local Deadwife Wifeguy.
Outie Dalinar: Uncle to the sitting CEO of Stormlight Biotech, zoomer trust fundie Elhokar. He's more or less not considered a major part of the company, as everyone just tolerates his drunken outbursts and says "you're right Mr Kholin sir" then doesn't do whatever he told them to. It was an open secret that he was going to join the Severed Floor eventually, and when he did, most people assumed he was like running the floor or something in some leadership capacity. He's grief stricken over his wife's death, in the same accident that claimed his brother, Gavilar, the then-CEO. Navani and Dalinar were the sole survivors of the limo crash. Outie Dalinar still believes it was his drunken yelling that distracted the driver before the crash, unaware that it was more of a targeted political assassination by another mysterious company.
Innie Dalinar is zen as hell. He drinks the corpo Kool Aid easily, sub consciously finding familiarity in the empire he helped build on the outside. He has a bit of religious affection for it as well. Which makes it all the more devastating when he gets his hands on a self help book, The Way of Kings. Interestingly, TWoK is written by a former mentor of Outie Dalinar, a man who left the company over great creative differences. Innie Dalinar has no idea the relation, but obsesses over the words. He imagines his Outie self a good man with a beautiful family that he made a great sacrifice to take care of. He is one member of the original Macrodata Refinement Team.
Next, curiously, is his son, Renarin. Outie Renarin voluntarily severed himself secretly very shortly after his mother's death. He had begun experiencing a strange paranoia and hallucinations, and felt severance was the only way to cure it. It didn't work, and both his selves still get visions and anxiety. Sometimes it feels like his visions are of his other self, but not always. Outie Renarin eventually was found out by his brother, who helped him keep it from his father. Outie Renarin thinks it worked to cure Innie Renarin, and believes he's giving his Innie peace every day. Outie Dalinar still has no clue.
Innie Renarin is much more brave. He has none of the pressure thrust in him in the outside world, and no original knowledge of his disabilities. He eventually works out that he's sick in some way, and he fully believes that the severing mixed with his epilepsy and that's why he gets visions. Visions he completely believes are 100% of his Outie. He still has his general Autistic Charm and big heart. He does his work, has a great relationship with Dalinar, who he calls "Boss" even though they're equals. He has a little intimidated crush on the real boss, their team leader Kaladin.
Outie Kaladin is a veteran with severe depression, and a med school drop out. His best friend, at her wits' end trying to do anything she can to help him, gets him an interview at Stormlight Biotech. She wants him to get a job and do well, having no idea the position was for a Severed job. She worries about him constantly after he takes the job, doing her best to keep him above water with it. Outie Kaladin feels none of the purpose and camaraderie that his Innie feels. He continues to sink into his depression.
Innie Kaladin is much different. He's confident, adept, a natural leader. He was originally in a different department, training new people, when they decide to move him to MRD after someone there retired, a man named Moash. He gets along well with the younger two members of his team, and feels like Dalinar is his own father in a lot of ways. It's very funny how they joke about them being related on the inside, when his own real son is right there, never part of the discussion.
The last member of their team is Shallan D. The only problem is, Innie Shallan is not Shallan at all. It's her headmate and alter, Veil. She didn't disclose her condition when she got the job, and was honestly surprised to discover that not only is Veil forced out when she goes down the elevator, but that she can still talk to her in their headspace when Veil is inside. This does however terrify Shallan, as her plan of infiltrating the Kholin Family Business to get aid for her father's bankrupted endeavor is thrown out the window when she must now spend all her time figuring out how to mount a coup from inside and figure out what on Roshar is going on. While also never getting caught because she's the last thing their family has to cling on to. Veil plays it straight as fully herself, albeit in Shallan's body since there's no lightweaving here. She still goes by Shallan D., but she's as brash and smooth and deceitful as can be in there. Outie Shallan, on the other hand, is extremely bashful, but quick witted and uncouth at times. Outie Shallan is a student of Jasnah Kholin, one of the main scientific heads of Stormlight Biotech, hence where the idea came to weasel her way in. Jasnah found the idea of one of her students getting severed as a way to pay their way into her course...intriguing, and keeps Shallan on a close leash during it all. Jasnah also heads the Severed Floor, something she is very not public about, and instantly makes Veil sweat when she discovers that.
other assorted cast include Hoid as the activities director type person on the floor (the Mr Milcheck) and Wit as the head of Wellness, and nobody has yet put 2 and 2 together
Rlain and Venli as the Optics and Design team
Navani as the Minerals Mineable department head 👀👀👀
Raboniel as the Rocks Quarried department head. you know how it is
These two departments are played up very much for a biotech Company. why do they have all these inorganic minerals around? Much to consider
Amaram as head of security
Moash is the "Petey" character. Kaladins best friend from their previous department, who was promoted to MDR, but quickly "retired" out of working at Stormlight Biotech. He's reintegrated through the group known as the Ghostbloods, and attempts to convince Kaladin to reintegrate.
Adolin is a member of the corpo family, Is sweet on Outie Shallan, but otherwise happily uninvolved in like any of this. He keeps his brother safe, and his dad as out of trouble as he can manage.
I imagine MDR as a research facility, perhaps ran by Jasnah. It researches office dynamics for training and prediction purposes for creating a more efficient workspace. It is a very safe place to keep her uncle and cousin, and her student. Kaladin is a bonus just to round out the team, and she doesnt know much about his Outie other than he doesn't do much worth reporting.
All these stories come to a head when Jasnah realizes Shallan can get information in and out of the elevator. She becomes obsessed with understanding how she is doing it, and once she finds out, she gains something if a vested interest in undermining the company structure with the knowledge.
the part of this meme I thought would be the funniest thing to see out of left field on my list would be my The Good Place AU for Little Witch Academia and YOU FOUND IT! ding ding ding you get a prize
The prize is me talking about "what if the cast of little witch academia were all in the Good Place". its diakko bc diakko is good
holy hell I have 11 chapters FULLY outlined here!! WHAT!!!! maybe i should rewatch the source material then write this!
It seems like my main idea was 'what if the lwa girls are all in the Good Place'. Akko arrives in the good place and is told she was super heroic and saved countless lives and died in a selfless act of sacrifice. And therefore she is rewarded in the good place! Except Akko knows she didn't do any of that. She flunked out of witch school and works at a preschool for magical children, mostly changing diapers and stopping them from lighting each other on fire when they sneeze. She didn't do anything big with her life and she's pretty certain she died from getting stepped on by a dragon when she climbed over a railing at a zoo to go get her sunglasses she dropped. But she doesn't tell anyone, keeping this a dark secret. She's introduced to her soulmate, Diana, who is wildly awesome and amazing and Akko sort of remembers her from school. Eventually she confesses to Diana that she doesn't feel like she belongs here in The Good Place, and her and Diana start on a quest to *make* her belong here.
God I got really really far in outlining this fic. way more than i usually do. i feel like i aught to put it out there sometime, i think people would really like it even if it is a little niche
Guy Lu is kinda new to this whole augments thing and computer viruses in the year 20xx are exactly the way they were in 1990. Except this one's a bit more chatty.
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Cyberpunk/Scifi, body sharing, eventual human/robot hatemance thing, trans character(s), currently 946 words, sorta not!fic style. If this intrigues you let me know! maybe ill work more on it!
Guy Lu loved his job. It wasn't glamorous, it wasn't emotionally fulfilling. He wasn't a hero like a doctor or firefighter. He wasn't innovating in the top research labs. He spent 10 hours, every night, at a desk in the lobby of the third-worst hotel in Horizonview, passing out room keys and not asking questions. Not too busy, not high-end enough that he has actual work to do. Perfect for watching TV and playing games on his phone. And, if he really really felt like it, doing work for his college courses, but that was best left until the last minute anyways. Clock in, dick around, clock out, go home, sleep, repeat. It was boring, and depressing, especially with no social life to break it up, but it paid the bills. It even paid a little extra, which added up to enough for Guy to get himself his first real augments.
Sure, most people around him had the standard fare everyone gets around 16, a small reader in your palm for activating anything instead of fiddling with ID and credit cards, and the little jack at the juncture of their thigh and groin that makes it easier for doctors to run tests and administer medications. But it was always more interesting when someone becomes an adult and can get their own, personal augments. Some people get exoskeletons or fantastical genitals or fully upload themselves in some sort of Matrix setup. Anything other than the first ones has to come out of pocket, there's no government or insurance help with the cost. A few months of grinding shifts at the hotel and Guy had saved up the dough and vacation time to head downtown and get fitted with an interface.
Interfaces were probably the most common augment, sure, but the possibilities were limitless. He barely ever needed his phone anymore, only when he needed to do more than three things at once. The interface bypassed his eyes even, projecting its screen directly into his thoughts. Same with sound. He could take calls, surf the internet, watch movies- even the Virtual Reality ones- or augment his own reality as needed.
It certainly made sitting at his desk watching TV and playing games more fun, while the novelty was still around. He was out of the woods on the recovery and adjustment period, and was finally able to almost always do what he was trying to do with the interface. And he almost never got headaches anymore! Guy called up a list of torrents with new episodes from the direct anime uploaders, trying to find the one that looked most complete and least sketchy. Hotel work may pay enough for a low end apartment and a single augment, but not enough for streaming services. He queued up a download and settled in for another few levels of the zombie killing game he was playing.
The download finished alarmingly quick. Before he could even open the files to see what was actually in the download, a program started to run before abruptly closing. That was suspicious. Guy sat up, trying to remember how he was shown to access his antivirus program on the interface. Was it an app? Or was it more of a built in process? He rubbed his eyes.
"Congratulations! You've won!" A bright scrolling banner with images of money and gold bars flitted across his consciousness. Great! Fantastic! This thing has fucking pop ups! Guy cursed, willing the pop ups to close. Once the glitzy gifs promising $10,000 augments for free had slowed enough, he tried opening his antivirus program again. This time, it did show itself, however the option to run a scan was greyed out. The helpful little support chatbot informed him that his health insurance only covers one scan every 30 days, and he used his monthly scan last week. It would be another 25 days before he could run a scan again. Of course, it told him, he could just pay out of pocket for a new scan, but after getting the augmentations, he didn't exactly have the spare funds to afford a paid scan.
He tried to find the files and delete them manually, but even deleting the episode the virus was attached to didn't work. Every few minutes, another annoying link floated through his mind like the thoughts of a hyperactive child. Buy buy buy! Click here! Do you want a bigger THING? Guy groaned, leaning back into his desk chair. Okay, he could deal with this. He'd just smoke some weed before work to keep his other thoughts from joining the fray and just deal with closing them manually. If it stays only every few minutes, he can probably handle it. It's only a few weeks. He'll be fine.
After only a few days, Guy had gotten into the groove of dispelling the ads before he even knew what they said. One frame of bright yellow in his mind and it was gone. He shuffled around his bathroom, brushing his teeth and pulling on his work clothes. Click me! Poof. Pull on socks. Download NOW!! Poof. Grab an energy drink out of the fridge and head to work. Congratulations! You've wo- Walk directly into a pole.
"Argh! I'm not going to click your fucking links!" Guy cried, rubbing the growing bump on his head.
"Okay," a calm voice said in his head. It was the general androgynous text-to-speech voice most of the AI systems around used. Placating and cool and devoid of any specific accent or tone.
Guy paused. "Okay?"
"Okay," the voice repeated. Was this the virus?
"Just like that, you'll stop showing me those damn pop ups?"
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This is what I consider my not!fic writing style, where i wouldn't consider this the final prose for this chapter AT ALL, its more like an outline disguised as prose. Anyways
This one is is a story about an inventor, Draven, who builds a robot that learns how to talk to him. I started writing this quite a bit before LLM/AI was a big capital-D deal (roughly 2018?), so idk where I'm going with this anymore. It's not particularly poignant anymore, given the state of things. The idea of it was Draven and TAIM, his robot, fall in love lol. This story in particular is early on in Taim's life, where he first is learning how to talk from a collection of records that Draven is playing on him. I should note, early!Taim is a record player.
[...] He was pulling the cardboard sleeve off the latter when Taim wheezed a note through his speakers. The note sounded hesitant, and frankly a little sad. As if surprised by his new found ability to sing, Taim whistled a chord, something happier. The record slipped from Draven’s fingers as he scrambled for his pliers, turning the volume knob up a bit.
“Hello, Taim,” he said in a measured voice, directly to the machine. It seemed to contemplate this with a humming crackle before squawking out a reply.
“Ti-Do,” was his best approximation of a greeting.
“I’m Draven. Can you repeat your name?” These questions were likely too hard for something that only knew Beethoven. “Ti-Do,” Taim repeated. “Ti-Do. Ti-Do. Ti-Do.” The record wound itself forward and backwards a moment in silence. “La-Ti?” It lilted on the edge of the word, as if asking a question. A grin broke out across Draven’s face, and he leaned back on his heels, running his fingers through his hair and gripping his head. He blew out the breath he had held while waiting for Taim to go up in flames any second. “La-Ti?” Taim repeated urgently this time, winding the record back and forth pointedly. Did… he want to listen to more? Gently, Draven lifted the needle (earning a delighted squeak from the machine before him) and replaced the classical music with the A side of Tennyson’s poetry. The Lotos-Eaters.
