#[that just feels so fatalistic. and i could have an off day here & there i wanna get on. dont wanna commit to silence hskghjg]

[abronzeagegod]

Eldritch Tech Support 4

more eldritch tech support stories

Today was a slow day for you. You didn't have much work come in, and you're just hanging out in the call center waiting for one of the field techs to call you with a problem. So far, you haven't had anything to do really. Some minor problems, nothing too complicated. It's been a good day to do nothing and get paid.

Then you get the call.

"How can I-" you start but are immediately cut off by very loud yelling.

"IT'S LYTHA!" your coworker yells on the line. Normally you'd have to go through security and employee ID numbers and job listings and stuff, but this sounds bad. "I NEED YOU TO CALL EXTERMINATORS! FUCK FUCK FUCK! THERE'S A SPIDER WITH SEVEN HEADS AND IT'S VERY MAD!"

You swear out loud, and slap the red alarm button.

The red light flashes over your desk and you can tell the call center has gone utterly silent as all non-job related tasks immediately stop.

You keep Lytha's line open as you quickly call up her jobs. She's currently on a job out in the Clutches.

"Employee needs exterminators," you say into a second line that opened the moment you pushed the button. "Employee 1419 is on site at 311 North Vellaturine, in the Clutches. Reports of multiheaded spiders-"

"FUCKING SHIT! I THINK THERE'S SOME TENTACLE THING HERE TOO!" Lytha yelled over the phone loud enough to be heard across the silent room. "MY GUESS IS SOMETHING FROM THE VOID AND ONE OF THE HELLS ARE HERE AND THEY'RE FIGHTING OR FUCKING OR BOTH!"

You repeat, with less color commentary, what Lytha reported to the Exterminators.

The Exterminator's operator acknowledged what you were saying. "Understood. Class One operation approved, Exterminators are en route to your location. Be advised heavy weaponry has been approved, as has magic. Please inform anyone in the building to evacuate immediately, police have been informed."

"Lytha!" you say to your coworker. "Lytha! The Exterminators are coming! Get out of there!"

"I'M FUCKING TRYING BUT ALL THE DOORS LEAD TO OTHER DIMENSIONS!"

"Oh... shit," you say. You repeat this to the Exterminators who do something that you never thought you'd live to hear.

"Oh fuck."

The Exterminators are the badasses of the tech world, fixing creatures and beings and banishing things that shouldn't be here. To have them be worried, that chills you to your soul and spine.

"Be advised, we have a level zero breach," the operator said. "Repeat, be advised we have a level zero breach."

You're dimly aware of the fact that there is no movement, no sound in the call center. Everyone is listening to your conversation without breathing or speaking.

"We are sending in the Knight of Doors," the operator said. "We're doing our best to get there as fast as possible. Do whatever you can to keep your people alive and safe."

Your boss was standing behind you and didn't even notice until she started yelling. "Kel! You did that job for the Chaos Seekers last month, get them on the phone and ask for a Blessing Against the Chaos for Lytha!" Their other head turned and pointed at another tech support person. "Devin! Find out if that war demon we helped a few months back is willing to offer a War Boon to our people!" You then feel a hand on your shoulder. You boss turns to you. "Do your best, and if you have a favorite god now is a good time."

A flurry of activity exploded into the tech center. People started calling up friends, clients, and even a few rivals to see if there was something that they could do to help out their coworker.

But all of that cut out when Lytha screamed over the phone, a scream that sounded bad.

"OH FUCK!"

"Help is coming, Lytha!" you say instantly into the phone, trying to remain somewhat calm and stamp down on the tremor and fear in the voice. "The Knight of Doors is coming!"

"Oh that's good," Lytha says with lots of hard breathing. "I'll have something attractive to look at as I go out and a nice voice in my ear."

"Don't do that," you scold. "Don't be fatalistic!" Your trying to fight back the emotions.

"We had some good times. The chaos of this whole thing is really quite interesting if you think about it. And this will be an excellent story to tell later."

Your boss touches your shoulder again. "It's ok," she whispers with one mouth, "the Chaos Seekers gave Lytha a blessing, but it comes with some... side effects. Like being a bit too into the whole 'Abyss is beautiful and deserves our respect and admiration' thing. She's not actively dying."

"Oh, thank fuck," you mutter. You focus back on Lytha, "Well you'll just have to tell me all about it over several drinks later."

"Advisement, Exterminators are on scene. Police ETA 3 minutes. Knight of Doors is Traveling," chimes in the operator.

There's the sounds of crashing and fighting on the line from Lytha.

"Holy shit," Lytha breathes out in reverential awe. "The Knight is something else."

The sounds from the phone are impossible to describe. The sounds of combat and chaos and hell and the magic of the Exterminators combine with more conventional sounds of weapons fire.

"Asset retrieved," said a deep and dark voice that you feel in your bones. "We are traveling to safety."

Suddenly Lytha's line went dead.

The call center has gone entirely silent once again.

The moment of silence is interrupted when a shining door suddenly appears next to your desk. The door was massive, easily 10 feet tall and 5 feet wide and made of a color that you can't quite fathom but your brain manages as "blue?"

The blue? door opens and out walks Lytha, covered in slime and blood followed by the Knight of Doors. They barely fit through their own door.

Contrary to the name the Knight wears almost no armor, but their skin looks like it could be an armor of its own. Dark, smooth, but sharp rock-like armor covers their body. They clear have some lineage directly connected to the Children of the Earth. The Knight was big in every way and extremely attractive with a massive sword and battle axe on their back.

"There you are," says the deep but soft voice of the Knight that covered you like warm molasses. "You are safe now. You should seek medical attention. I shall return to the battle."

"Thank you," Lytha says with a little smile.

"Wow," you say, stunned.

The Knight nods and walks through their blue? door once again.

Your boss heaves a heavy sigh of relief. "Ok, everyone! Take a twenty minute break, get your legs back, and then we really should return to work." Then your boss turns to you, "Take Lytha and get her to a hospital."

You nod and take Lytha's hand and pull her towards the exit and the hospital.

---

Three days later, the Exterminators and the police manage to contain the situation.

It turned out that Lytha was called in to clean off the viruses on the computer used by a den of drug dealers who were cooking some very illegal drugs, the kind of drugs that require ingredients from the Abyss.

The drug makers, being incredibly intelligent, made deals with devils to get the ingredients which resulted in the turf war between one of the numerous hells and the Abyss.

Then Lytha was called because several members of the drug dealers had a laptop that they used to go to many suspicious and shady websites.

Lytha was fine, she suffered a few injuries that required many large needles to inject her with various antibodies and such. She had to spend only two nights in the hospital but only for observation. You stayed the entire time.

if you liked this let me know, maybe consider buying me a kofi, i'd appreciate it very much

[riley1cannon]

Trick or Treat! Thank you 🎃🎃

Yay, thank you! Here you go, a little bit of a BBC Sherlock/ACD canon mash up fic I started once upon a time, and occasionally think about completing. It was meant to be for Halloween, in fact, with thrills and chills (so I hoped), so it seems appropriate:

Sid sat up straighter and reached for the pile of documents he had deposited on the table among the tea things. “They are, yes. Don’t you see, Dr. Watson, these faux societies modeled themselves after the Société des Corps D'elite. The Société des Corps D'elite is who the Illuminati and all the others aspire to be. Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson,” Sid earnestly appealed to them both, and there was something so authentic in that gravity of manner that Sherlock almost wished he could believe him, “I realize what I’m telling you sounds fantastic but if you would only look at my evidence,”—here came another sheaf of papers, some typed, some handwritten notes, all stapled and clipped together—“you would understand. Here,” he pulled one document free and held it out, “just look at this. It clearly shows the connection between the Society and the Hellfire Club--”

“No.” Sherlock held up a hand to forestall him. He had heard enough now. “No. We have gone from cryptids and sacrificial rites to Spring-Heeled Jack and the Illuminati, and now arrive at Sir Francis Dashwood and the Hellfire Club? No, enough.” He extended a long arm, finger pointed at the door. “Leave, now.”

“Mr. Holmes--” Sid stood and began to gather his papers and books. He dropped some, and then dropped some more as he stooped to retrieve the first batch. “Mr. Holmes, you are making a terrible mistake. This is real. You must look into it.” He continued to implore even as Sherlock escorted him to the door. “Culverton Smith and Grimsby Roylott are the Society’s most treacherous agents but Baron Gruner’s up to his neck as well, and--” He broke off then as though he finally grasped his failure to make a convincing case. Disappointment and a kind of fatalistic resignation crept over his expression as he murmured, “I expected so much more of you, Mr. Holmes.”

Unaccountably stung by that last comment, Sherlock shut the door firmly as Sid Persano took his leave at last. He waited a moment and then crossed quickly to the windows where he plucked aside a curtain to watch as Sid emerged from 221 and stood, hapless and forlorn, on the sidewalk. As John came over to join him, Sherlock asked, “Is this where you tell me that was a bit harsh?”

“Thought that could be taken as read.” John peered out at Baker Street where Sid still lingered, shifting his bundle of papers and books. “He does need help.”

“Consulting detective is not a term synonymous with psychiatrist.”

“And just because someone has an irrational obsession doesn’t mean they can’t be in real danger.”

No, no it didn’t. And Sherlock couldn’t deny that the one thing that had rung crystal clear and authentic throughout the entire interview was that Sid Persano was profoundly afraid.

And because I feel extra generous (and am bemoaning that once again I didn't have anything to post for Halloween), here's a preview of a fic I dearly do want to complete one day:

~Vampires of Gotham~

Klarion the Witch Boy was infuriated...

“Pfft!” He spat at the television screen as the local news carried on with its coverage of Casey Stirling’s appearance in Gotham City tonight. Author of the inexplicably popular Grymwood Chronicles, this Stirling woman was scheduled to do a book signing at the Page Turners book shop where her latest volume of hackneyed paranormal twaddle would make its debut.

Would Eden Cordray, tortured vampire with a soul, finally proclaim her love for dashing adventurer/inventor Ransom Wingate? If she did, how could Eden ever resist the temptation to turn Ransom and keep him at her side forever? What of brooding and beautiful Father Alexi, torn between devotion to God and the charms of that femme fatale of a sorceress, Isidora Thane? Had the twins, Verity and Jack, finally unearthed the truth of who had murdered Professor Farradine two books ago, and why? And could the true mastermind behind everything be quiet and unassuming Cecily Dillane, everyone’s best friend and confidant, keeper of all the secrets?

Not that Klarion cared a whit. He had neither read any of the novels nor watched the equally successful films based upon them. His knowledge had been gathered as he lurked on fan sites filled with endless chatter on these and many other matters. The sheer minutia of these fans’ obsession often came near to driving him mad. To gain some relief, he sometimes responded to their postings anonymously to correct misconceptions about sorcery, vampires, or the djinn, or simply to point out how thoroughly feeble minded they all must be, always in an ultra-supercilious manner so as to guarantee the most dramatic hissyfits and demands that he go be a troll elsewhere.

This amusement had its limits, however, and as he watched the zealous acolytes of Casey Stirling lined up outside the bookstore, many of them costumed so as to mimic a favorite character, Klarion felt a powerful urge to do something far more profound.

 “What eldritch horrors should we unleash upon them?” he murmured as his cat, Teekl, curled itself around his shoulders and purred a suggestion into his ear—a perfectly wonderful, awful idea that made Klarion rub his hands together and smile with a glow of pure malevolence. “Yes,” he said as he warmed to it. “They dote upon these romantic incarnations of supernatural terrors but how would it be, eh, if the real thing walked among them?” This could make for glorious mischief indeed!

 “Come, Teekl, we have work to do…”

 ~*~

“Spoilers, Master Timothy,” Alfred warned as the boy persisted in skimming through The Necromancer’s Notebook. “We shall uncover its secrets soon enough,” he added and hefted his own copy as they edged ever closer to the front of the line.

Tim closed the book with noticeable reluctance. “I know I’m right about Cecily,” he said.

“We shall see.” 

Tim flipped to the back of his copy again, this time to check the page count. “Eight hundred and seventy-five… You know I can’t go online again until I’ve read the whole thing,” he said, a fretful note in his young voice.

“We shall apply our best efforts to the endeavor, never fear.” Where some books with such an inflated page count could easily be trimmed by at least a third and be none the worse for it, Miss Stirling was the rare author who truly delivered what was commonly known as bang for the buck. Alfred would not find it a chore to keep pace with Tim’s literary marathon.

“I still think you should have dressed up,” Tim said as he tugged at the collar of his own neat cassock, a twin to the one worn by the tortured priest, Alexi. “With your chauffeur's livery and a really cool pair of goggles you’d be just like Zedekiah Zane.”

Alfred appreciated the comment. Zedekiah was, after all, the most trusted confidante of Ransom Wingate. “Alas, I fear my cosplay days are long behind me, Master Timothy,” Alfred said and cast a look about at the colorful array of steampunk gothic adventurers, vampires, scholars, sorcerors, and others too numerous to catalog, “Besides, this family dresses up quite enough as it is.”

[originemesis]

@deathinfeathers xxx

"Are you going to keep rubbing that shit in my face for the rest of our brimstone besprinkled lives? I wasn't hunting you down! You were dead!! I was hunting down the bitch who I assumed was wearing your GODDAMNED GRUB EATEN SKIN!!" It sounds significantly more deranged when you say it out loud, doesn't it? But it seemed reasonable enough of an assumption at the time. More reasonable than the notion that he'd survived the pygmy slut's assault and crawled off to suck on some flat-faced degenerate plutocrat in a shitty suit anyhow. "And for your information--" There she goes, swinging her legs over the lip of the sill she'd been riveted to for the past five hours and taking to her feet. An accusatory finger is jabbed in his direction like the business end of a blessed spear. She presses onwards. "--he was actually pretty torn up about the whole ordeal!" Torn up about how torn up she was, rather, but torn up all the same. Of course that had changed when the true extent of his dirty dealings had come to light...at this point in time she wouldn't put it past Michael to do a little celebratory jig if he did manage to relieve Adam of his head. God, his fatalistic frame of mind is infuriating. She wants to fight, make no mistake about that. She wants the catharsis that always accompanies a good ol' noisy squabble, it never lasts but it feels good in the moment; a release. But she wants to feel bad afterwards, because she was unduly cruel, maybe stew in it for an hour or two before the compulsion to apologize takes the reigns and she drags her feet over to do just that. Apoligize. And when she has said her sorries, and he has said his, then she wants everything to be alright again. To bid adieu to another shitty ass day, crawl under the sheets and fall asleep to the smell of his skin, the sound of his breathing, the feeling of his warmth seeping into her flesh... She wants to fight—but it's all so exhausting. That scornful digit falls from the air to hang limply at her side like a popped balloon, before she has a chance to prod at his chest with it. "Adam—" A breath squeezed through pinched lips, she turns to hunch over the kitchen counter, elbows on the edge, head planted firmly in the cradle of her palms. "—can you please—please try to work with me here. Or, alternatively, tell me to fuck off if that's what you'd prefer...to go back to whatever life and identity you've carved out for yourself here? I will. I'll leave you be if you tell me to...I'll handle Michael, he's not going to be a persistent hurdle to you...but I need to hear you say it...if you don't want me around i need you to tell me—right now."

"I JUST SO HAPPENED TO BE 'THAT BITCH'- in case you forgot!? Like shit, Lute! I mean, I appreciate the sentiment and all, but you really couldn't recognize me? MY helmet at least stayed the fucking same!" Unlike hers...her whole being, really. He's still not sure what sorts of angel steroids that Sera could have sprinkled her with, but the evidence of a promotion that never was supposed to come to pass under his leadership was evident even now without all the frills of a uniform in place. Granted, he was never supposed to end up face first in a used condom filled ditch in hell either, so maybe she was on to something... grotesque as she had to put it- like always.

Sending a still sore about it scowl over towards her perch, it's with a lesson learned back pivot that he slides the hulking weight of his frame back onto a heel as she jabs at him. Her angelic weapon might not be out for another branding round, but he'd had enough of an encounter with it skinning the neck flap of his helmet that even the gesture of a spear had his remaining feathers fluffed in alarm. "Please- it's not like you're obligated to pat my ass down here. We both know he could give zero fucks with that mic-ropenis of his." No, he wasn't against making Mic-centric jokes still. If anything, they helped smooth his feathers down as he paced the length of the apartment under her unrelenting gaze. Considering he's all she has left now up behind the big, pearly-gates, the late Commander's not sure she'll share in his cathartic name calling, but it can't hurt that its brought his voice down a couple of octaves and the weight of his gaze light enough to swivel up under heavy lashes to listlessly consider her next round of tumultuous tweets.

"Babe—?"

He huffs back before she can project more of what he can only assume is more of her frustrations with the situation-... with him. Her complaints don't fall on deaf ears, though the hints of hell-grown feathers near where the tufts of his hair and the tops of his lobes meet flare backwards as if to cover them or at least filter the tone of her request until it convinced him to ride the long, hissing exhale of his lungs to a patch of level ground between them- mainly the counter top. Tucking in beside her, he propped his chin up on a palm and a fanned set of talons while the golden pinpricks in his toasted gaze swiveled sideways to regard her the way an entirely too tired cat might observe a bird through a bay window. "I didn't carve shit, y'know? I never wanted you to have to be around me like...well-" Gaze dropping to study the curves of the set of claws he rested upon the counter in front of him, he curled their tips under the harmless ends of hell-charred knuckles and sighed. "-like this...zero dick energy disaster." A light shuffle of his weight from one shoulder to the one closest to her indicated he still felt some magnetism to her despite the shame-riddled sentiment. "But that never changed the fact that I needed you...that I don't know how to even be without you. All this life you say I carved? Was just me clawing the fuck out of everything just to keep my head above the surface of this complete and utter shit show!"

With a dropped sigh, he scooted the balled up fist over to where she'd tucked her head. A light press of knuckles against the side of her cheek coaxed another cautious rumble out of his chest. "You gotta understand- I been through this before. Always falling short of what they wanted...expected. Ending up alone. I can't handle it again- not with you. Because unlike my previous 'tasks' from heaven, I actually chose this. I chose YOU...so I can't be here when you decide this-" A soft grunt aimed down at himself and the flick of a tail as it coiled around his calf signaled his unease, but he shook at it like a wet dog. "-was never what you wanted in the end."

With a shift, he swiveled on the barstool to face inwards, cheek still propped precariously in his palm as he addressed her with a strained frown, lips a twitch from parting into a puff. "Because I-...fucking hell, Lute..." Thoughts of her perched in his lap with clumsy fingers lingering over the notes on an old bass he'd insisted on showing her coaxed the lightest quirk to the corner of his mouth, his eyes flashing with the sentiment his lips seemed hung on.

I fucking love you. "...don't leave."

[setsuntamew]

Rules: Share the first line of ten of your most recent fanfics and then tag ten people. Don't have ten? Not to worry, just share what you have.

No one tagged me; I just found this shit wandering around tumblr...as it goes. And I wanted to do it because it looked fun and I wanted to be included in the fun :D

The first week of school has come and gone- mostly. It’s the same shit with different labels, as always, and the same dump of "this is so important, your entire academic future depends on it" speeches as always. (Finding Hope Like Bleeding Cowboys at Destiny's Crossroads, vashwood + millionsummers mid-00s high school au)

He can’t remember anything before he wandered his way here and fell victim to the mercy of others. (memories and melodies within, Eriks!Vash feat. amnesia and music)

Akira has never thought of himself as a romantic, but he can’t shake the almost sickly feeling he gets when he dwells on memories of that afternoon in the nurse’s office. (practice, extremely fucked up/dead dove do not eat marushu)

Zazie doesn’t pick sides; they’re more interested in their own shit and their own family and most importantly: staying alive. (No Sides, Zazie/Razlo mafia au drabble)

Roxas was dreaming, or at least he thought so. (Camp Friendship, akuroku + sorikai camp au that I've been writing on and off since 2006)

things that did not happen in a love affair are things that happened in a love affair (not a love poem, millionsummers poem from Legato pov)

Legato has the power to support anyone he wants and destroy anyone who gets in his way; Legato has powers beyond anyone else, stronger and more refined than anyone with similar powers, and in a class above everyone else: he could choose whoever he wanted and change their fate. (Twist of Fate, millionsummers fantasy au drabble)

Legato can do anything for Master Knives; Legato will do anything for Master Knives; Legato has never shied away from anything for Master Knives, no matter how awe-inspiring or abhorrent it is, without needing anything more than to stand by Master Knives's side and serve his needs. (An Unjust Reward, Legato & Vash have to work together and Legato hates it)

It’s something delicate. It’s something bright. It’s something unknowable and it’s something born of desperation. Legato would never ask Master Knives to defile himself for his sake and he would never deny anything Master Knives offered him. (Forbidden Fruit, millionsummers cannibalism)

Much like every fatalistic religious text promised, it finally happened: one day, an angel of justice came from on high and destroyed all who were unworthy, sparing but one from his path of righteous ruin. (Reckoning, millionsummers fallen angel au drabble)

Tagging: @dragonofeternal @clockworkspider @steinozean @ehyde @ciaran @the-wyld-october @nomette and anyone else who wants to do it; I'm not smart enough to tag enough people

[bellatrixnightshade]

My brutally honest review of Fall

I would rate it around 7/10 and 4 stars after thinking clearly from that awful reading hangover.

Since I would like to end on a positive note, let's start with the bad:

Negative: -the Neverland/Peter Pan storyline was just not for me. That space could have been used for a lot more than that. It belongs in a novella more than a Prequel novel tbh. I didn't care about Pan being School Master, although I did find it interesting that the previous School Masters were Pans. Honestly, the page time should have been given to Midas, my beloved, but that's a topic for another day

_Botic Lesso . Why. Why was he here. Soman could have written a short story about Lady Lesso and her past at this point. I can't believe she's from the same family as him. Botic should have died instead of Midas. I was so pissed that this character lived and the other didn't. You are King of mermaids? I don't care. Peter Boy? I don't care. Heck, Rufius, a very minor character, grabbed my interest more than Antibiotics Lasso.

-Midas' death left a bad taste in my mouth and I skip this part of the story every time I reread it. He should have stayed alive and become the greedy king of the myths when he was older. I also cannot completely forgive Rafal for doing what he did, but at least he didn't pretend to be more than he actually was. I hated how Rhian treated him too. I hated how both of them treated him, and he should get an apology in the afterlife. Both twins were in the wrong. (Yet my toxic trait is shipping Mifal but oh well.)

-no James and Rafal closure? Okay, let's say James wanted to move on. Couldn't they at least talk first? I agree they would be better as friends. But I just didn't feel like even their friendship was developed in Fall. And also, James did make fun of Kyma and I dislike the bully boy getting the girl in a rushed manner. Did he even apologize?

-The eye color thingy wasn't essential to Soman's plot twist at all. You can still replace someone and have the same eye color together? They're twins?

-The infamous plot twist. Look, I don't hate it. I think it could work in the main series even if it was a second thought. But the way it was done was so sloppy and cartoonish at times, and not very believable.

Under this, the characters of the twins were icky. Was this even Soman's writing? There was so much potential with the opposite alignment and it was thrown away for what? I could read this in a first grade book, thank you very much.

Why does Rafal still have to call himself pure good? He might have been born that way, but he obviously forfeited that "state of grace" (as a way of saying it) by his free choices. It could've added to his identity crisis if maybe he had a hard time returning to Goodness because he believes he's too far gone. And even when he does try to be good again, it's just a start. Not "pure Goodness" especially not when you used someone right before that. So I liked Rafal’s identity crisis but it just fell down in the end. I also think perhaps Rafal could break away from a fatalistic view of life. He doesn't HAVE to be pure good or evil. He can make his own choices and be his own person, with his faults and good things. GREAT lesson there, but it was tossed out.

Rhian's Evil-- okay. This had so much potential. But no, Rhian had to throw a kindergarten tantrum and kill Rafal. Rhian's character deserves better, and I'm saying this as a person who didn’t like him instantly in Rise. Rhian was reduced to nothing but BIG BAD VILLAIN LOOK AT ME MWAHAHAHA.

Rhian could have been motivated by more complex things, or have a more complex character, like someone who can NEVER see he's wrong, because he always sees himself as good. Maybe narcissistic and self obsessed but unaware, and still human. Or jealousy of Rafal and who Rafal is. Rhian had a million different personalities it was painful to read.

-The prequels should have been one large book or a spin off trilogy. The duology thing could have been part of the problem, especially with storyline pacing and rushed plot. Also, cut off the Neverland thing from the stories.

ANTICLIMAX. That ending. That "battle." Very anticlimactic, which pissed me off since I waited months only to get that.

The Good:

-no obnoxious purple prose. The writing was clear and fun, so that's a plus.

-Midas and Rufius

-some cute Rafal and Rhian moments

-The cover

-Marialena piqued my interest.

-the story itself wasn't bad, and it was still sad and emotional. I liked the messages it tried to show, and I can say it definitely isn't a story I would forget.

This is just my opinion and I'm not bashing Soman. This is my opinion, and I love it. I don't prefer it over Rise, nor do I prefer Rise over this. I like them both for different things. I also used slightly stronger language than I usually do, so that doesn't mean I talk like that 24/7 lol.

[greypetrel]

Sorry I missed this yesterday! "i'll feel better once you're out of this." for Aisling/Cullen! c:

Hey Mo! ✨

Don’t worry about being late! :3 I’m replying late as well after all, LOL!

I was very indecisive between what you got and another take… But the more I wrote on the other the grumpier about it I got. So yeah, this is brief, but it makes me cringe less (and I know that when I get like this, either I turn something around, or you’ll see this prompt maybe the next month and I would still hate it to bits), I hope you’ll like it!

Tis the prompt list.

Jump.

"i'll feel better once you're out of this."

Nobody ever expected the Emprise du Lion to be easy to conquer, but this was getting worse than every one of the more fatalistic expectations Cullen could have had nightmares about.

Because of course the last red lyrium pit had been closed off, the Templars making all the entrances to the cave it was set in explode and trapping themselves in before getting caught.

And of course they brought prisoners with them, so leaving them to the sad, gruesome destiny wasn’t really an option. They had to enter, and quickly. Comes in Scout Harding, who informed them of the chimney. And here we are now.

Cullen looks down the almost vertical tunnel that brings air to the cave mine down below, with a frown. He’s sceptical of the plan, particularly so because, of course, Aisling wants to go down first. Because of course. Some days, he hates how reckless she can be: he knows she’s competent and good, and he knows that she made sense in her decision She’s the only one that could hold her own against a group, defending herself from all around with a barrier and fade-stepping away, and attacking without burning precious air, which made Dorian the last but one of the line, since he had to rely on necromancy only and thus needed some people to be already dead to be functional. He knows and he agreed it’s the best plan they get. Still, she’ll be on her own for some minutes -too many, in his opinion- with a band of Templars, and he couldn’t help but worry. All that he could actively do right then, tho, was frowning angrily at the tunnels and at the Templars down below, as if they could see him glaring at them.

“Managed to dig a better tunnel with a scowl?” Aisling chirps from his left, and as he turns, she’s already harnessed in rope and padding closer to him, breath coming in silvery puffs before her smile, cheeks and nose reddened by the cold.

“The rock refuses to bend.” He replies, drily.

“Keep going, maybe it just needs some more scowling.” She giggles, stopping close to the border and tugging at the rope to check if the knots are secure.

He turns and helps her in the task, placing a hand on her shoulder to keep her steady as the other tugs more firmly at the knot on the centre of her belly, testing its resistance and strength and venting out some irritation at this whole plan.  It isn’t her first time fighting Templars, he got her a rapier with a physical, metal blade just in case, that now hangs from her belt beside the spirit hilt. They are all ready. And yet.

“My knots are always secure, just ask Dorian.” The Qunari scoffs from behind them promptly swatted by said Mage, with another scoff that would melt rock. “Ouch! What did I say?”

“Privacy, you horned doofus!”

Cassandra lets out a disgusted noise, stepping away from them as far as she can. Which is little, considering they’re all tying themselves up and she’s the first in line, right after Aisling and before Bull.

“As if you didn’t like it! We all heard you, Fancypants!” Mocks him Sera, the last of the line of climbers, elbowing the mage in his ribs. Dorian just scowls at her, but doesn’t reply, and he can see Aisling biting down a smile, sincerely happy at how bad their friends are hiding whatever’s going on between them.

She turns on him after a moment, tho, face softening at him and stepping closer, hands coming to fix his cloak.

“I’ll be very careful and stick to the plan. As soon as I’ll get down, a round of small lightning to stun them, with all that metal in their armours it’ll be easy to get more than one at the same time with minimum effort. Cast a barrier right after and get my back against something solid. Duck Behemoths, they’re slower, and concentrates on rogues and archers first. If they silence me, roll and cover and tug the rope, wait for Cassandra, I have the rapier and a couple of other daggers around. Stick to the plan, don’t do anything crazy.” She recites.

It’s the fifth time, but instead of being out of patience, she’s calm and soft, as much as she can as she closes down his cloak before him, tugging it so he gets the message and bends down. As soon as he’s in comfortable reach, she cups his face in both hands and squishes his cheeks.

“It’ll be fine, you lovely, lovely over-worrier. We’ve been in worse situations that I’ll be glad to remind you of later, one by one.”

“Please, don’t.” He chuckles, leaning in on her right, with a smile as he closes his hands on her wrists. She hops on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his lips, as sweet and loving as she can -and it’s quite a lot- dragging it on a little more than necessary and, at the same time, way too little.

From their side, there’s a chorus of yucks and a loud cheer from Bull, all their friends reminding them to please cut it off with the honey and that they don’t have all day or the stomach to bear with so much sugar. Aisling ignores them altogether, still smiling at him with love as she breaks the kiss.

“Will you be fine?”

“I’ll be fine when you’ll be out of it.” He grumbles, with less of the animosity of before.

“Well then…” She sighs, and with a last quick kiss on the tip of his nose, she steps back towards the tunnel, unfastening her staff from the back harness, and yet not looking away from him. “Sooner I get in, sooner I get out, no?”

Cullen knows the smile is a show, and that she’s trying to convince herself that she’s not going down to butcher some people. She told him the first night he arrived there and she slipped in his tend and pounced at him as soon as scouts and lieutenants left him for the night, that she hates the place, and she can’t but think that every single Behemoth she fells it’s him, in another time and turn of events, and she hates it, but she has to do it anyway, and she can’t wait for it to be all over. He knows, by now, that Aisling is upkeep and cheerful not only for the others, but for herself as well. There are times for sadness, but those are the times when she can sit down and stay with her melancholy and her tears, like old companions. This is not it. So, he smiles back, glomps down worry and all protective instincts that would make him snatch her out of the harness and jump in himself instead of sending her down, and remembers she’s the Inquisitor, she’s there because she’s qualified. They’re in a war and they have parts to play. It’s a game of chess, nothing more, nothing less, and the Queen is wasted if kept on the side of the board.

He smiles at her, straightening his spine and crossing his hands behind his back and nods at her, encouragingly.

“May Andruil bless your hunt, Inquisitor.”

She smiles at him, in response, and this time it’s sincere.

“May her eyes not fall over you, Commander.”

And with that, she turns to the others, and after a solemn nod from Cassandra, she blows him a last kiss, winks -Dorian is definitely rubbing over her, but Cullen’s not complaining- and jumps down the tunnel, in a last flash of green and gold.

Cassandra shouts that’s too fast and to just wait, for the love of the Maker or whatever deity she would prefer not to make run after her, but all the reply the Seeker get is an echoing laughter from down below.

Maybe it is gonna be fine, after all.

[warabola]

💜🏵

💜: top 5 favorite npcs

Oh man the absolute hardest right off the bat. There are so many good NPCs in Fallen London.

Feducci - I'm not as obsessed nowadays, but you can thank Feducci for me being here in the first place. When I first got into the game, I was enamored with Tomb Colonists on sight after one stabbed me on the road randomly-- and despite learning the reality later, Feducci was the character I needed to know everything about. I wasn't here for elections but I heard about the end of his term and it cemented my love for the game.

Cornelius - Complicated. I am so sold on any interesting tomb colonist, but despite my excitement to meet him, I somehow managed to hit a glitch during the Railway that actually got Cornelius onto my board without ever having spoken to him. I still don't know how I did it, and FBG Support doesn't either. But his responses on the board make me laugh so he stays, and I also adore a guy who's into weird stuff.

Furnace Ancona - Feels like it's self explanatory. I've helped with unionizing efforts and management, and it's not easy. That alone makes her peak character. Her story is just so good and I wish there were 100 more places I could talk to her. I want to look at her character design all day.

Jovial Contrarian - He was super popular in the fandom when I first joined so I thought I wouldn't be into him? Jokes on me, I love an argumentative person any day.

Tie between The Manager, His Amused Lordship, and The Bishop of Southwark - First is thanks to Heart's Desire, the real world tie-ins, his love story.... and just how weird he is to the player character, honestly. The other two feel obvious because they're just good? Reggie said hey we're breeding creatures here and tackled me and I haven't been normal about him since. The Brass Grail is up there as one of my favourite stories. HAL is just great.

Honourable mention to the Sigil Ridden Navigator and the Cladery Heir as my favourite Sseas characters, the Fatalistic Signalman and Clay Conductor in Sskies, and the Crimson Captain for being my Main Companion despite having so little story, I so hope he gets more story.

🏵: what accomplishment are you proudest of in the game?

Actually a very difficult question! I'm a fairly recent addition to the fandom, having only joined maybe two years ago? And I'm terrible at optimization in lieu of forgetting what I was doing and instead wandering around after the lastest story I find interesting, so I don't have many unique or impressive achievements. That said, I have finished 3 ambitions and one ending of Seeking. And I have every renown to at least 40!

Honestly, I'm more proud of making an interconnected story between my own characters and friends' characters, but that's not really in game.

[fel-mi-er]

He knew the stars are finnicky, but to have them give a present to the person he was arguing at the maple taffy stand? Sure, they somewhat made up with more taffy, but considering how that one scratched line was too painfully accurate to how he was feeling, he assumes this was some working of fate. And well, though he doesn't consider himself a fatalist, this was too much of a coincidence to ignore. He gives a sigh. Checking the small pot, he pours and seals the contents into a tupper bowl, and then returns to his room to get a present. At least this is easy to fix up quickly.

With his free hand, he knocks on the door to Epel's place. When he opens, Luciano gives a small head nod. "Merry Christmas to you, Felmier," he says. "I'm your pen pal for this letter exchange."

"Here is your present." He then hands him a present box with a small ribbon on the side. Inside of it an all-purpose crochet kit with some crochet needles and yarn, plus a book for several designs ranging from plushies to clothing; from beginner difficulty to expert. "I did not know what your proficiency level in crocheting was, but you had mentioned that you enjoyed using yarn, so I thought that it would be best to bring something to cater to your interest." He then shifted his legs a bit, somehow making the man look somewhat shorter. "As for where I live, I..." A chuckle escapes him, as if he didn't believe it himself. "I'm from the small town on the other side of Harveston." He then extends the tupperware. "And well, after reading your letter, I thought you might also like something a little reminiscient of home."

Inside the tupper, there's some freshly brewed soup. Though the soup structure gives it the appearance of minestrone, the soup's ingredients look more like the stews served in Harveston. "It also gets cold for us around this time, so I thought it would be appropriate." A pause. "And for the last question in the letter, all of the above."

He then takes out a spoon for the soup. "Well, here's a spoon. All I ask is that I get the tupperware by the end of the day." He then gives a small grin. "And once again, Merry Christmas."

Epel was a bit surprised to find the taffy guy (Luciano, right?) at his door, but it quickly made sense when he explained that he was there on account of the pen pal exchange. So it was him…

He didn't have time to respond before the guy was handing over a present. Oh! How nice! He could always use more yarn, and he was excited to learn more about crochet (he was more versed in knitting, but he had tried crochet a few times, and was always eager to learn new things). He was looking down at it in excitement, looking forward to opening it, and raised his head to look at him and say thank you. But it appeared that Luciano had more to say, so he let him continue instead.

"As for where I live, I…" he chuckled, "I'm from the small town on the other side of Harveston."

Epel's lips parted in shock, eyes widening.

No way. There was just no way. Really? Really really? Something bubbled up inside Epel, something hopeful and buzzing. Something like camaraderie, something like relief. This guy--

A tupperware bowl was extended towards him.

"And well, after reading your letter, I thought you might also like something a little reminiscent of home. It also gets cold for us around this time, so I thought it would be appropriate." Epel balanced it on top of his present without really thinking, moving on autopilot without taking his eyes off Luciano. Inside the tupperware was everything warm. Familiar colours, a familiar smell. He was honestly about to cry. He really didn't wanna cry in front of this guy, but he was really touched and really… he had just been so homesick lately. This hit him pretty hard. He felt all watery now, but he didn't cry. He wouldn't until he was alone. He was blinking pretty fast, though.

He was given a spoon for the soup, and asked to return the tupperware by the end of the day, to which he nodded. He cleared his throat before speaking,

"Thank you. I… I don't really know what to say. Thank you so much." He smiled up at Luciano.

He kind of wanted to be alone right now honestly, but he also didn't want to let this chance pass him by. Something was calling out to him, something was begging to talk to him more. He wanted to talk about home, he wanted to ask him so many questions, he wanted to show him his apples.

"Would… would you like to come in?" Epel bit the inside of his cheek, jittery with some kind of energy. Jade was doing whatever Jade did when he left, and Deuce had gone out for a run. They had time to talk, if Luciano wished it. If he said no Epel would have been a bit disappointed, but Epel was putting him on the spot right now-- maybe he already had plans.

He just wanted to talk to someone who would understand. Someone who knew where he was coming from. Someone he didn't have to hide in front of. If there was even a chance Luciano was that someone… Epel had to at least try.

[despair-to-future-arcs]

Fuck Zofia!

She doesn't and I feel that is an issue with her; she is a fatalist and often believes in fate of her role, it's a hard mindset to crap...

But it does get better, so don't worry, anyway Nagi onto the next clip.

Right, here we go - time for the week after...

*CLICK*

[08/28/17]

CHIAKI: Welcome again, Sonia - I take it you've been well?

Why yes, I have been; I'm sure you are aware that Byakuya has come back to us and soon Teruteru should return as well!

Oh wait, I mean the Ultimate Imposter... I nearly forgot that this isn't the actual Byakuya, apologies, I do hope they change their name so it isn't as confusing.

CHIAKI: It's fine, it's an understandable mistake as you met the Ultimate Imposter who was disguise as Byakuya, so I don't think your at fault for that. Now back to what we talk about last week, you mention that people assume that you would be like Zofia, correct?

Yes, I've... had my people I am going to be like my ancestors and even why I was kidnapped as well.

CHIAKI: Wait, so that's why you were kidnapped twice?

Indeed, I will admit the first time it happen when I was 10 years old but the second time happen when I was going to be coronated as the next queen.

But unlike last time, I wasn't scared and stood my ground from the kidnappers!

...

...

...

Date: October 15th, 2009

*Sonia finds herself in a dark room...*

*Sonia woke up* Wh-What...? Where am I?

???: Hmph, seems your awaken - good, morning Zofia...

Zo-Zofia?! What are you...!

Man: *pulls a knife at her neck* One word out of your mouth and your tongue comes off, got it?!

... (Looks like I was kidnapped before I was crowned queen; this is quite scary and my parents must be worried but I know I must not show any fear...)

MAN: Good, at least you kept quiet this time you better stay that way, I was order to kill you so better be prepare...

...Fine, but remember you don't scare me.

MAN: The fuck? Bitch, do you have any idea of the situation your in?!

Of course I do, after all - as the future queen, I know that if my people see me sad would surely trouble them and I know rescue will come.

MAN: Hmph, you sure seem damn arrogant to think that, you know that bravado is gonna get you killed.

No but I am certain rescue will arrive, I have faith in my family.

'I won't deny it... I was scared, frighten even of the situation I was in but I know that I must not show any fear and about a day later, they arrive...'

Date: October 16th, 2009

*CRASH!*

NATASHA: So-Sonia? Sonia where are you?!

MIRIKO: SOOOONIA, WE CAME TO RESCUE YOU!

GUARD: Your highness, will deal with this! Come out and let go of Princess Sonia!

Mother and Father, they came to save me!

MAN: Fuck, they came damnit - I thought I would have you killed by now!

Well too bad, they have and now you can't get away, your surrounded!

MOTHER! FATHER! I'M HERE AND THE MAN THAT KIDNAP ME IS HERE TOO!

MAN: *Puts a gag on Sonia* SHUT UP YOU BITCH, ONE WORD OUT OF YOUR MOUTH AND I'LL-!

*BANG!*

*The Man stop as a bullet shot by him and there stood Sonia's mother with a gun*

You fool... how dare you take my daughter and kidnap her? You have dare cross the queen, now unless you value your life - I recommend you step aside...NOW!

MAN: ...Shit, Then I'll make sure she doesn't live to see another day you bi-!

*As then Miriko rush over and slammed him on the ground*

Threaten my daughter and the your arms get broken, Natasha - you along with the others get Sonia out of here!

Right dear... *rush over and unties Sonia*

Mo-Mother, oh thank goodness you came!

*gets up and hugs her mother* I was scared and worried, I try to hold strong that you'll save me, thank you so much for coming!

It's fine Sonia, I'm just... I'm happy to see your alive...

Now let's leave while men, take care of this kidnapper and be sure to check if there's anyone else around that could pose a threat.

GUARD: Of course your highness.

... (Thank goodness, I'm safe and this happen before I became queen; I wonder if more like this will happen or if it's fated...)

'I had wonder if this kidnapping was fate, the man kept calling me Zofia; so I figure people were after me but my parents assure me that isn't the case but I doubt it...'

[crossroads-history-and-science]

Species Highlight: Ishiki

Long ago, there lived a people called the bōru. They were basically coconut people. I don't mean they were wearing coconuts, they WERE coconuts.

They were spherical, furry, and about the size of an exercise ball. They lacked eyes, a mouth, or any other features. They typically were brown in color, though they were sometimes green or yellow. Their insides composed of a semi-solid substance that they would shift around, allowing themselves to roll. When sleeping, their innards would rest into a complete fluid. They would sense the world around them and communicate through telepathic abilities.

A single crack would be deadly for a bōru, as they would leak out the moment they fell asleep. However, they saw it as a blessing as they got to be sent off by their friends and family before they went out. Upon leaking out, they'll also release a seed that could grow into a Bōru tree, and their innards can serve as a fertilizer. Because of this, their culture used to have a strong fatalistic ideology.

However, one day, a Bōru would leak out and not die. She was a conduit, and because of her abilities, she kept living as semi-solid liquid. Taking inspiration from human visitors, she would form her body into a humanoid shape during the day. She was the first ishiki, and she would call herself Sunny Cross.

Through her survival, she would discover that living as a coconut slime person wasn't just a conduit thing. Every single one of her people could do it if they knew how to. When she informed her people of this however, she was shunned and exiled from their society for defying the natural order. However, the damage was done. The knowledge was out there, and it was only a matter of time before all her kind would join her in the multiverse.

Now-a-days, the ishiki see their coconut phase as adolescence, adopting the world "Bōru" to mean "child" in their society. They would find that their new bodies do not age or damage easily, and can withstand even the harshest environments. Because of this, they are very daring explorers in the multiverse, often colonizing worlds that most species wouldn't even dare.

Their telepathic abilities have evolved upon becoming a multiversal race. They've honed their powers so every ishiki was connected telepathically at some level. This would create the greater hivemind, and a single ishiki would rise up as the mother of all ishiki. The "Mother Mind" is practically a religious figure and her thoughts became the gold standard for how an ishiki should live and think. Or at least, that's among the devout. As history would tell us time and time again, whenever someone tries to introduce only one way of living, dissenters were always to follow.

This would divide the ishiki into three groups:

First Consciousness: Ishiki that follow the Mother Mind's thoughts and feelings to the letter. They generally think of any of their kind that don't follow her doctrine a heretic.

Second Consciousness: Ishiki who respect and learn from Mother Mind's teachings, but don't hold them as a gospel. They tend to build their own moral codes instead of following the gold standard.

Anti-Consciousness: These Ishiki do the exact opposite of what the Mother Mind wants. They often become terrorists and criminals.

The First Consciousness consider the Second as the greatest threat to the ishiki. As dangerous at the Anti's are, they are still unknowingly slaves to the Mother Mind's will, while the Seconds actually introduce rebellious ways of thinking.

Ishiki's have colonized hundreds of thousands of worlds and hold a very valued position here in the Crossroads. Sunny Cross, the first ishiki, actually has served as a famous member of the Time Agency for centuries. Many books and movies were made of her exploits traveling through timelines. She however, feels little connection to her race however, still feeling the sting of rejection thousands of years later.

[tothedarkdarkseas]

!! just want to reassure you that if i ever took inspo i absolutely wouldn't lift anything directly from your writing, i feel exactly the same wrt being very personally attached to everything i create. even silly gorillaz fics are like a little piece of myself put out into the world lol... and i would be sure to credit you for inspiration and send it your way! while i really hope you find a renewed interest in gorillaz as a whole (both for selfish "immense enjoyment of your writing" reasons as well as completely understanding how it feels to become disillusioned with something you were passionate about,) my faith in the direction they're taking is... rocky at best lol. but it is what it is!

Ah, thank you! I'm sorry if that answer was presumptuous in any way, I just wasn't entirely positive the extent to which you were asking! I know some fandom writers are so... generous, or detached, or whichever flattering or unflattering way it comes across to you, and it's not unheard of for someone to just hand off stories to new writers who care more about finishing it. Honestly, observing other writers in general is such an enlightening yet isolating experience, as it assures me time and again that something is very broken inside of me, hahaha! No, but I understand that feeling entirely. It's shameful to think the things that have meant so much to me, projects which have felt incredibly personal and reflect something I can't otherwise voice are... silly gay Gorillaz fics. With hole. So just-- not things you'll ever share. (I've tried to do personal writing, er, something for more of a "literary magazine crowd" but struggled with getting my footing enough to move the ideas into words. Recently, very recently, I've been scratching out short thoughts on a specific aspect of my life... I've felt conflicted about sharing it here or not, as I think the only people who have any interest at all in my writing would be on this blog, but the subject matter is very much the opposite of toxic-masculine Studoc.)

Thank you, I really do appreciate you saying that. This is melodramatic, and the sort of fatalistic thinking I've been trying to be more mindful of, but at times my unhealthy relationship toward creating made me think of the quote about every person dying twice: for the first time when your body dies, and for the second time when someone stops saying your name. There's just always been something unbearably sad about the idea that you could love with your whole heart for 1, 5, 10, 20 years, and yet one day it just stops forever. It stops existing in anyone's mind, it stops mattering, it is one of a thousand-billion sparks from the beginning of human storytelling that died for the last time ages ago. I don't think that's a good way to think, for the record, haha. But it's nice to me to think someone out there cares if I ever write again, someone would want to share that world with me. Whether I ought to indulge it, it is a lovely thought. I'm glad we could know and care for one another in whatever capacity we were able to.

Anyway! I'm sorry, we're returning to true peak tothedarkdarkseas form here, which entails me using asks as therapy sessions. I would love to see anything you create, even if you ended up moving on outside of Gorillaz! I am so grateful for you reaching out, it really does this rickety old heart good. Sadly I do share your reservations about where we'll go from here, but I think some time away from the burning core of it has done me some favors in... numbing me a bit to the disappointment, haha. (Nice way to think of something, right?) As you said, it is what it is! C'est la vie!

[autodialog]

Looking forward to brighter days

I'm not ready to talk to you yet.

I know. I'm still patient. You're processing a lot.

I've tested positive for COVID.

I know.

For EIGHT DAYS IN A ROW.

I can see why you've been hesitant to talk to me.

EIGHT FUCKING DAYS

Now, be fair, you only tested on Saturday, Tuesday, and Saturday. You may be in a COVID loop with your wife.

That doesn't make things better. I'm never leaving this house again, am I?

There you go being a fatalist. You will, one day, leave the house again.

Really?

Maybe feet first on a stretcher.

Aren't you a barrel of laughs today.

Okay, so sarcasm isn't going to get through to you. You realize that everything is temporary, right? Nothing lasts forever.

I won't live long enough to prove that.

Nobody will, but we have it on good authority that entropy will win in the end. We can't stop it. You won't be stuck in the house forever. You know that. Is it reasonable that you're now permanently sick? Have you ever recovered from diseases?

You know I have, but not this one.

You lasted three years before you got hit. It was stupid trusting to go out unmasked after the mandate lifted. Yet you did it. You made a mistake and this is the natural consequence of it.

Yeah, that makes me feel better about this whole mess.

What it means is that you are practicing voluntary discomfort.

This is rather involuntary.

It doesn't have to be.

What?

Think about it. One of things you've cooked up is an experiment to see how well you could survive in a single room for 30 days. A bed, a computer, a bathroom, a guitar, and a place to exercise.

And books.

Yeah, yeah, books. You can't live without your library. I know. You've had this idea in your head for a long time and you solved a lot of problems, like where your meals would come from.

Only that meals would be delivered. I never really thought about laundry, either.

There are clothes that can wash in a shower. No worries there. You came up with this idea as some sort of performance art thing. You've let it play in your head multiple times. I've watched it over and over again. Well, now you're living it. Only you aren't alone. You have a wife.

She's a little frustrated, too.

As long as she's not frustrating. And even then what are you doing to make her life easier? Are you actually folding the laundry you're doing or just leaving it in the dryer? Are you cooking anything or are you letting her do all the cooking again? Are you cleaning? You are expecting a visit from family and your house is a mess. Are you ready for them to show up and get the tour?

No. I've cooked a few meals, but no, I'm not.

So you have a place to improve. You can't go out to eat, so the logical necessity is dishes will need to be done more often. In fact I think you loaded the dishwasher but didn't actually start it.

I did not.

Another place for you to improve.

What are you trying to pull here?

I'm trying to kick you in the metaphorical ass because you're being a whiny bitch and maybe some tough love is what it will take to get you to behave like a human being. You can still do almost everything you want to do. You can still play guitar. You can still write. You can still read. You can even play that stupid Minceraft game.

Minecraft.

I know what I said. You can probably even take a walk outside if you don't get near people. That would require you to wear socks, though. How are feet doing? Still swelling?

You know it.

Because you're wallowing in this misery and I'm sick of it. Get out of here and go do what you need to do. I'm going to take a bath.

You're a mental construct, a part of my head.

Or are you a part of my head? The inner child I have to shepherd to adulthood?

Hey now....

See, you're getting pissed off at being called a child. You were always angry over that, even when you were a kid.

So, I should stop being a shit about things and do what I can.

Exactly. COVID is slowing you down and giving you coughing fits and the sniffles but you've got it relatively easy. You've lost your upper range. So what? It will come back or you'll learn to sing as a proper bass.

I've got things to do.

I know you do.

[attack-on-teen-titans]

*presses fingers to lips and exhales deeply*

I cannot stop thinking about this in the context of Gaza but that’s a whole other topic.

I didn’t expect Onyankopon to survive. I didn’t expect Jean, Conny, and Gabi to go out like that. And I was not prepared for Stockholm Syndrome to be the driving force of a whole race…..

How and why would Ymir fall in love with the man who burned her home, murdered her parents, enslaved her, and then hunted her as game in a sick chance at freedom? If it weren’t for him doing any of that, she never would’ve found that tree and the parasite living beneath it. Even after gaining this power, she stays and I cannot fathom it.

I always said that if Levi ever died, I’d quit the show cold. My boy kicking ass literally in stitches and finally carrying out Erwin’s last mission with a FRACTION of his full skill.

I had mixed feelings about Pieck in the beginning of season 4 but she definitely grew on me, so much so that I fully screamed when she started somersaulting through the air transformation after transformation.

FALCO!!!! I’m still speechless. By far the best Jaw ever! And the reveal?!

Zeke…the thing about his euthanasiation plan is that even after all the Eldians naturally died out…everyone else would just find something else to fight about, as evidenced by the end credits with Eren’s headstone. Even once the PoT disappeared, the Marlyeans STILL threatened the Eldians. Humans are garbage.

Eren…………… fucking dumbass. 🙄 All bark and no bite until he goes kinda crazy, y’know, from all the power. Then acts a pussy to his friends just so they doubt themselves before they harden their resolve? Armin should’ve knocked him out fully. Then whines about wanting Mikasa to mourn him for ten years after he dies?!? Fuck outta here you wimp. The only good thing he did was spare Historia.

Armin….i don’t think there was ever a time I disliked him. He is the MC for me. That he could turn Zeke, a fatalist, into a hopeful is absolute genius. Him trusting himself to think through the paralysis of his body and then waking up immediately to fire a thunder spear at the Titan that captured him. Calling on ancestors for help because even in their perpetual state, they don’t support genocide. The visual and knowledge that people who started as bitter enemies are now united on the same side was incredibly powerful.

Mikasa. Oh Mikasa. The one always up Eren’s ass. Who never had another thought if it wasn’t attached to Eren. Who did nothing but take the fall for his dumbass decisions. Couldn’t stand her for the first two seasons. That she was the one was the best decision. It’s a juicy, rip your heart out moment. I just really REALLY wish she kissed him BEFORE cutting off his head. Ugh. 🤢 Like you make us wait the ENTIRE SERIES for this kiss, and it’s necropheliac.

I’m sad there won’t be more but happy at the resolution - that there is no resolution. Even if you take away the current object of conflict, there will always be another. I’d definitely be into more adventure in this universe but I’m glad to let everyone rest for a while. I’m sure I’ll have more/other thoughts as the days pass, as I watch the ending again, and as I watch the whole series from start to finish. Owning the manga has been on my list for some time and maybe next year will be the time.

Oh, I almost forgot: kick ass soundtrack! I’ve gotta do more research into the music but EPIC sounds for epic conflict!

This is it.

The Attack On Titan series finale.

*deep breath*

Let’s go.

[gardendroid]

me: oh i can wait til friday to take down that donations post, it’ll take a while peeps: *fill it up & more in like one day*  me: AIGHT

[bitchesgetriches]

At my old school, they served lunch at one long table, and every grade had assigned seats. Even if no one liked you, you still sat with everyone.

But at my new school, there were dozens of small round tables. Students informally pulled chairs up wherever they pleased. Each table seemed to be dominated by a different clique. They all knew exactly where to find their people.

As I stood frozen in the doorway, I felt a fatalistic sureness: I’d go through the lunch line alone and exit it alone. Bullying trained me to fear the punishment that came from social presumption; I couldn’t possibly ask to sit at someone’s table.

I got into line pinching back tears, feeling like I was marching toward doom.

Then I felt someone tap their lunch tray against my back. Assuming it was an accidental jostle, I kept my eyes forward. But then it happened again. Tap tap.

I turned to see… how do I describe her?

Do you remember The Craft? Yeah—like that. Big The Craft energy. A thirteen-year-old girl who seemed, to my eyes, impossibly mature. Black lipstick. Dangling pentagram earrings. Long, long hair dyed deep scarlet. Impossibly tall, at least seven feet. A pale, beautiful face wearing an expression that terrified me: cold, indifferent teenaged edgelord coolness.

I honestly have no idea if that’s actually what this girl looked like, or if my eyes were just so unaccustomed to seeing anyone like her. Was her lipstick really black? Maybe it just seemed that way because it was my first encounter with a fashion-forward 90s matte brown lip. Obviously she couldn’t have actually been seven feet tall. She was just the sort of person who seemed like she should be.

“Do you have any friends that go here? Do you have someone to sit with?”

My heart started to pound. “Not really, no.”

“Mm.” She nodded, looking not at me but into a middle distance that cool people can gaze into upon command. “Well, you can come and sit with me if you want.”

So I followed her like a puppy. I thought we’d make for an empty table… but she beelined for a crowded one at the back. As we approached, everyone at the table turned and erupted with a delighted shout. “ELIZA!” A dozen people jumped up to hug her, high-five her, ask how her summer was. I hung back, overwhelmed, until Eliza pulled me forward.

“Guys, this is Lauren. She’s new, so be nice to her.”

A few days later, a girl named Erin approached me.

She was a nice, polite midwestern girl, and she ran with a modestly popular crowd. After some chit-chat, she lowered her voice. “Are you hanging out with Eliza?”

I brightened. “Yes! She’s soooo nice.”

Erin sighed and shook her head. “Be really careful around her. I don’t hang out with her personally, but I’ve heard all sorts of things.”

She leaned back and raised her voice again. “You can come and sit at my table today,” she said with a smile. There was no small amount of pity in her eyes. “I’ll introduce you to the right kind of people.”

I know what Erin meant when she said she could introduce me to “the right kind of people.” White midwestern Christians, straightlaced and well-behaved, attempting to pass for upper-class by way of Abercrombie shirts. The kind of people I had always tried to impress, hoping that a little bit of their acceptedness would rub off on me.

Eliza, on the other hand, was everything I was warned (explicitly and implicitly) I shouldn’t want in a friend. Everything about her loudly announced her individuality and disinterest in conformity. She was shamelessly, alarmingly different from everybody else.

But when I was at my most vulnerable, that first day in the lunch line, “the right kind” of students had all looked right through me. Not necessarily in a mean way—they were just too busy with their own lives to stop and introduce themselves to a stranger. No one had any way of knowing that the quiet girl standing in the lunch line was locked in a silent crisis, feeling like she was losing both her hope and her sense of self.

Eliza was the only one who looked at me instead of through me. Unlike Erin, she’d offered me empathy and extended her friendship easily, without conditions or prompting. It was a small, capricious act of kindness, but it forever changed my life for the better. She showed me with perfect clarity that there is no correlation between propriety and a true act of kindness. It was the permission I needed to stop stuffing myself inside the cage of other people’s expectations.

It also made me aware of the ways in which I judged people. I was an uptight asshole, by nurture if not nature. I spent the rest of that year learning to unclench myself.

Here’s what I hope you, dear readers, will take away from my story about a tiny act of kindness.

Changing someone’s life is a tall order. People are most ready to change when they’re at their most vulnerable. But people at their most vulnerable don’t usually announce “HELLO. I AM EXTREMELY VULNERABLE. HOW ‘BOUT YOU?” The right act of kindness, or cruelty, or indifference in one of these moments can cause an unpredictable, life-altering cascade of events.

You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be yourself.

You don’t have to be kind and brave and righteous all the time. Do an act of kindness when you have the inclination, opportunity, and energy for it. You don’t have to be happy to spread happiness, or feel brave to act with bravery. Sharing your power may feel meaningless when you’re the second-least powerful person in the room—but it matters so much to the person you share it with, the one and only person who has even less. Be generous, but don’t give yourself away. You don’t have to. When the moment is right, change will come with the tiniest of nudges.

You may never know what your actions mean to others. Like me, it may take years of introspection for the recipient to realize the momentousness of a fateful moment. It’s not unrealistic to think that you may have been somebody’s Eliza a hundred times over, completely changing their life for the better after some brief and inconsequential interaction. You may never know about it.

Eliza’s tiny act of kindness helped me directly. But it also helped so many more people indirectly. And I kinda hope that in the end, the person Eliza helped the most… was Eliza.

Readers, tell me about your Elizas. Has a chance encounter ever changed the course of your life for the better?

- A Simple Yet Life-changing Act of Kindness: Be Somebody’s Eliza

[mirobami]

Hey! I really like your stuff! Could you do a Kirari fic with a reader who in kakegurui style gets off on the unknown. Like she’ll throw a game to become a house pet because she’s bored and knows she can pull herself out with her own money if she has to. Maybe she even lets her girlfriend use her in a game, putting her life and relationship on the line because at the end of the day trusts Kirari with using her in a gamble

↳ the fated temptress - k. momobami

♥ GENRE: undecided.

♥ SYNOPSIS: in request!

♥ NOTE: sure sure! i actually REALLY liked doing this omg i hope i did it justice!

Fate was a questionable object, yet most people believed in it, saying that it was fate that led them to all their choices and what they did. The fatalists specifically believed in that credence, certain that there was a road paved for them already. According to them, no one could stray from the path.

Kirari was a fatalist. She believed that everything that happened at her school was because it was planned beforehand. That is, until she met Y/N. Y/N, who was consistently going against the path that Kirari made for everyone. She was the one sacrificing herself but not for good intentions. She sacrificed herself because she wanted to feel the thrill of having her life being in danger. She was like Midari in that sense, but unlike her, she found pain to be unnecessary. The risk was enough.

The first time that Kirari had actually met her in person and seen what she was like was when Y/N was in a gamble against a housepet. Y/N had had the housepet beg to go against her. Kirari distinctly remembered hearing all of this from Runa. She could remember the feeling of seeing this housepet want to go against the "wallflower" of the school. This was all before Kirari knew who Y/N really was.

During the gamble, Kirari saw how Y/N got bored from gambling with her opponent easily. She won faster than she thought and had no pity for the housepet. All she had said was, "Man, and here I thought you would give me some sort of thrill. How boring. Don't ever speak to me again."

Kirari could swear that that was the moment she fell for Y/N. She didn't know it then but she would in the future. As she tracked Y/N's games, she saw more and more about her. By psychoanalyzing her, Kirari could see who Y/N truly was. She couldn't be called a compulsive gambler. She didn't gamble for the money. It seemed like she had plenty of money to get herself out of tough situations. No, she didn't gamble for value. She gambled for the thrill. She gambled to tempt fate.

"The fated temptress..." Kirari mumbled to herself as she graze her blue lips with her nail. A slow smile appeared across her face. "The things she could do to this school..."

Over time, Kirari fabricated a plan that would get Y/N and her together, making them the most dangerous couple in school. The president, with her slightly sadistic tendencies and Y/N, tempting fate consistently. It got to the point where they were inseparable, thus giving others the challenge to take one away from the other. But they not only were inseparable, no one had ever beaten them. The risks made others shrink back, whereas they welcomed it.

"The games are so dull these days, Kirari." Y/N groaned as she sat sideways on her armchair, her legs tossed over an armrest. She was staring at the ceiling, trying to think of something.

Kirari was sitting at her desk and she looked up at her lover with a smile. "Did you not just play a game to purposefully risk your life as a housepet?"

"I know you would've given me a good Life Plan, but that's not the point. The point is that I want a good game that's going to fill me of adrenaline."

Opening a notebook, Kirari flipped to a red-bookmarked page. Then she glanced over at Y/N with a smile that said everything. "I have a plan."

Kirari knew someone else who had a crush on you and consistently did their best to try and take you away. This person constantly sent her invitations to gamble with them, but she always threw the invitations in the trash. This time, though, would be different. She'd write something down so that the person would arrive in the gambling den of her preference.

On the day of, the white haired president and her lover stood in front of the door. Y/N raised an eyebrow. "This is it? What's going on?"

"You said you were bored, my love. I can't have you being bored. I made a game that will definitely leave you breathless."

Walking in, the person was unrecognizable with a full faced mask, similar to the vice president's. However, Y/N knew that it was not her. This was someone else completely. "Hm? Who are you?"

"I will not discuss that with you now. You may call me Q in the meantime." The voice seemed mechanical, but the person was too fluid with their movements as they showed Kirari the table set up for them. It was a simple table, lit up by a single overhead light, creating an eerie atmosphere.

Kirari grabbed both of Y/N's hands. "Are you willing to do whatever with this game?"

Y/N's eyes shone as she kissed Kirari's knuckles. "Anything for you. I trust you and know you'll make me have a good time."

Stepping forward, Kirari took a seat across Q. She placed her hands delicately under her chin. "Tell me, Q, what is the purpose of you sending me multiple invitations to gamble with you? Surely, you have a good game prepared for me."

Q laughed, an unnatural sound that could have chilled Y/N's bones if it wasn't for her being more excited about the stakes in this game. Q responded, "We shall be playing Guillotine. I will explain the rules after we put forward our bets. It will be a five round game and our bets shall be large enough now to best each other at the end of this."

"To clarify, we make our bets now and then you'll tell me the rules?"

"Precisely. I trust that you won't let down from this game? I know you are not a coward, President."

Kirari barely spared a glance towards Y/N, acknowledging that she was impatient to see why she was here and what the stakes were. "I am not."

"Good. Here's the twist of the bets: we choose what will ruin the other. In other words, we are choosing the others' bets. Your bet?"

"Your life, of course."

"As expected. I want Y/N. I want to have her for myself without you interrupting any moments of ours."

Y/N clapped her hands together, her smile genuine for the first time since coming here. "You want to ruin our lives and relationship? Oh, what fun! Kirari, say yes, please say yes. I trust you more than anyone but the adrenaline of losing each other...this is more than fate! This is what was set out for us in the first place!"

Kirari found herself nodding. The game started with that movement. With every round came a new pulse of anticipation. Kirari won the first round and Q won the second round. It happened once again and each time that Q won, Y/N hummed in surprise and excitement. Kirari wouldn't let it be shown on her face or in her gameplay, but she refused to let this nobody try to take the love of her life away. She did all of this for Y/N's happiness and she wouldn't be the one to lose her.

It was funny though. This game of Guillotine was brand new and she had never heard of it. There was something off about it, however. Her piercing blue eyes slightly squinted at Q, as if trying to decipher the meaning of the game with a stare at her opponent. She wouldn't do anything just yet. She needed to know more than she needed to win. Maybe that was why she and Y/N were a perfect match. Y/N wanted to risk herself and Kirari would risk everything to know about something.

"Tell me this, Q, how long have you been wanting to play this game?" Kirari tapped her fingers on the table. "I can see that you have been impatient about finally playing this and saving it for someone special. It's almost as if..." Her eyes slightly widened. She understood now, it was so obvious.

Love had a funny way of getting in the way of destiny. Some people could argue that love was destiny whereas others would say that you create love with destiny. Kirari now knew that Q was specifically trying not to lose because they thought that trying not to lose meant winning. Instead of trying to win, it was the opposite. They were so focused on Y/N that they accidentally manipulated themselves at the end of the day. Y/N was supposed to be their motivation. She was their downfall. This was it. Kirari could win.

"Why should that matter to you?"

"Because this is an impressive game. How long have you been trying to get Y/N to fall for you?"

Q stayed quiet. "That has nothing to do with you."

"Tell me. Is it because of how compulsive she is? Is it because she's easily made everyone lose? Do you crave losing to her?"

"I said it has nothing to do with you."

"I can see your pattern." Kirari laughed softly. "You were deliberately trying to lose to me so that you could have the spotlight on you if you won this round. Love has quite a way of messing with people's minds. You were too obsessed with Y/N to realize something: there is a reason why we are untouchable."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Come on, Kirari, I want to see who lost and who won!"

"Patience, my love. Oh?" Kirari pressed a hand to her lips. "It makes you jealous how I treat her, right? That's why you want to steal her from me so badly. It will hurt her and me, most especially me. You want me to hurt while you simultaneously show that you could treat her better."

"Stop it. Show what you have." Q demanded.

"I still have the love of my life." She showed her cards to Q with a grin. "Y/N trusts me. I am never going to let her down."

Y/N went over to hug Kirari tightly. "You won. Do you have a Life Plan with you?"

"Mm, I'll do that later. Let's go to the one place you wanted to go to. Oh, and Q?" She stood up and looked at Q with the deadliest eyes she had ever used on someone. "Do not ever try to steal her again. You may gamble with her, as long as you make her time worth it. I would like my lover to enjoy every single second of every day."

They left and Y/N let out a sigh of relief as they walked to the restaurant she wanted to go to. She was holding Kirari's hand tightly. "I think that was the best rush of adrenaline I've felt in a long time. I will admit, I was on the edge of my seat at the end. Of course, I trust you. I knew you'd never let me go."

Kirari turned her head slightly to look at her from the corner of her eye. "Oh? Was the fated temptress scared?"

"Of course not!"

"You can tell me. I will only be slightly offended."

"Kirari!"

They were teasing each other lightly, but the grip on each other's hands said everything. The gamble scared both of them more than they let on but now that Kirari had won, they held each other in higher esteem than they had before. Y/N was a magnet to danger and Kirari was attracted to everything she had to offer. They were untouchable and they would continue to be as long as they had each other.