#This art was meant to be a lot better and more emotional but i lack skills

[astridcookie]

Look its a doodle of Edward and Nancy because im gay wait those are straight people nevermind

my light is broken and is permanently orange so good luck with that

@ar1-thecat tagging you because this is the picture you wanted me to show you yesterday

[lariumbreon]

Succubus HRT - Week ???? - Borderline Aftermath

In an effort to listen to my therapist, to better help myself, and to help possibly enlighten and educate people. A lot of Succubus HRT is contextual to my own personal struggles with borderline personality disorder, ptsd, hypersexuality, and my suicidal tendencies. A very not-fun blend of mental issues. A lot of this was meant to stay in private journals. But as I started to draw more, I felt like presenting the art publicly might also help others struggling in the same or similar ways. Make no mistake, I am making progress, and I am doing better. But sometimes it gets hard. Sometimes guilt from previous episodes take hold. Sometimes PTSD takes the wheel and I relive the pains that caused the episodes all over again via emotional flashbacks. Living like this, is often an inescapable waking nightmare. One small miscommunication. One small mistake. One small misread of a mundane sentence. One unexpected minor change in the dynamics of a relationship with someone. It's enough to send me into a spiral. Of course the bigger triggers affect harder. Unkept promises, lies, being used. All these triggers often leave open wounds that don't simply heal. If not resolved, or if someone simply just doesn't care, what starts is a near bottomless decline into various degrees of mania, depression, anxiety, and so much more. It gets even worse when the person who triggers it simply tries to ignore it, or act as though it's wholly my fault for feeling hurt and the episodes I have afterwards. That doesn't happen often, and I've since found the strength to not be friends with those who have done this to me.

These episodes can last weeks, months. I get incredibly paranoid about every interaction, as if I might slip and fall onto spikes at any moment. Or that the masks might slip and the person I'm speaking with will start to scream about how they hate me and want nothing to do with me. It's a constant battle with intrusive thoughts, false memories. I often spend nights crying having fabricated arguments in my head, catastrophizing until I pass out from the pain. Abject isolation and me spending a night ghosting nigh everyone I know and love in one last self-destructive episode is a common grand finale of the spiral. An episode can take place over weeks, months. For some people they just go about their lives, while I hold on to a small hurt that collects, festers, and explodes outward seemingly out of nowhere. To them, they're doing nothing. But to me, even just being shorter than usual in their replies feels like claws on my heart. So I lash out. Causing constant and irreparable damage around me to relationships and those in them. It's as if existing with BPD gives me a constant AOE Ring of Fire that causes friendly fire damage.

"People with Borderline Personality Disorder (and those like them) are like people with third degree burns over 90% of their body. Lacking emotional skin, they feel agony at the slightest touch or movement." - Marsha Linehan

Very few quotes have ever felt or spoken as true to me about living with borderline as this one. It best encapsulates how I feel when episodes happen. Like my whole body exists as an open wound, and every small trigger causes inexplicable pain throughout my brain and my heart. Which has often led to my struggles with addictions to pain pills and the like. The worst part, is there is often no perfectly right way to engage with me. Episodes will happen over the smallest things. I cannot guarantee I won't struggle. People with borderline, we struggle often, and greatly. What we struggle with cannot just simply be fixed, or even helped. But with patient and understanding hands, we'll pull through okay in the end. Fragile, handle with care.

[sparklecarehospital]

an anecdote about my recent art

i figured i'd make a post about this, just cuz i know people have probably noticed it. this isn't in response to anything anyone said, i don't know if anyone is actually talking about this or not, it's more just me talking because i feel like sharing this with you guys.

i'm sure you've noticed that suddenly i'm making an influx of main comic art. for a long time, months and months, i had really struggled with being able to fixate on my characters in their natural state as opposed to the various AUs i've been working on.

that's not to say i "abandoned" the main comic, but it's more that i wasn't really drawing it for fun anymore. i still worked on pages, v4 is finished being drawn and v5 is in the works, but it became more of a work-only thing and my personal art almost never focused on the main comic versions of my OCs.

the reasons for this are... complicated. some of it was emotional, some of it was trauma that i'd rather not go into detail about, but for lack of better words i just wasn't as comforted or engaged as i was when drawing AU stuff. cometcare is the most important thing in my life and it always will be, and i guess i just was going through a period where i needed that comfort more than anything. my life has been hard lately for lots of reasons, and they make me feel safe and better.

this also meant i wasn't attached to the main comic as much anymore, as i wasn't drawing it for fun. but i want to change that. i want to be able to re-attach to my OCs the way they started and as they really are because that's what matters most in the grand scheme of things. i'll always have my silly AUs, but i don't want my emotional state or current trauma or horrors i'm experiencing to make me incapable of loving my OCs the way they actually are.

thank you guys for being patient with me as i go through this, i know it's probably made some people sad that i distanced the way i did and i'm really sorry. last night i realized how sad it made me too. i want to make it better. i'm not giving up on the AUs, i'll still make updates and art for them, it's not that, but i'm not going to make it the only thing i ever focus on anymore.

i love you guys. thank you for supporting me and my art and stories, regardless of what it is, it means more than you'll ever know

[gentil-minou]

why are you making such a big deal about people using ai to write fics lmao you act like its the end of the world. i do it and no ones caught on. there’s bigger things to cry about.

In a few years when you realize how much your "works" lack the intricacies and soul and depth of emotions that make us human, I hope you remember this and use it to grow.

I assure you, the person who is suffering the most from your use of an artifical generator to "write" and "create" is yourself.

I'm mourning the loss of someone who had the potential to use their real experiences and imagination to create something that touches others. I'm sad for you and the way you won't understand the struggle of creating art, and miss the most valuable lesson of all which is that the struggle is what makes art so incredible, so real, so human.

I'm sorry that you think a glorified search engine is a better writer than your own skills. I like to think I would have liked reading what you'd actually write. I think a lot of people who have appreciated that more. I'm sorry that you don't value your own skills enough, that you don't believe you're good enough to write on your own.

I'm sorry that you want so desperately to be liked and clicked on and praised that you are willing to lose what makes you you in favor of hollow attention that will undoubtedly fade away into nothing but empty words from an empty soul

I hope in ten years you realize what you lost by using a machine to regurgitate someone else's words for you. I hope that before then you create something that's all your own, that you share it the way art was meant to be created and shared. That you let yourself truly be heard.

[mcrdvcks]

Sweet Dreams - Chapter 6

Chapter Summary: Some of the students and teachers go on a trip to Paris.

Word Count: 6.9k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x Original Female Character (platonic relationship)

Notes: um... please don't be mad :((

i promise everything will work out

Series Masterlist - Chapter 5 → Chapter 7

AO3 Link For Chapter

February

A few months had passed since Christmas, and now it was the beginning of February. The weather had started to warm up a bit, and the rain became more of a constant.

Professor Xavier had decided to let the students who didn’t go home for the holidays on a trip, while the ones that did go home had a weeklong break. They were split into two small groups, some going to Paris, and others going to Germany.

They all had packed their bags for a week, including Alexandria, Kitty, Jean, Scott, Kurt, Jubilee, Rogue. The teachers accompanying them were Charles, Logan, Storm, and Hank.

Kitty’s voice broke the silence. “Have you ever been to Paris, Alexandria?”

She looked over at Kitty, thinking over what she should say. Because she has been to Paris, not for sightseeing, but was sent on a mission by HYDRA to kill a group of people. She wasn’t given any more information other than their names and pictures; she had no idea why HYDRA wanted them dead.

But she did it, because that’s what she was, a loyal soldier.

“Yeah, I’ve been to Paris,” Alexandria replied finally, her voice low and clipped. “But it wasn’t exactly a tourist visit.”

Kitty raised an eyebrow, sensing the lack of enthusiasm in Alexandria’s tone. “Oh? What did you do there?”

Alexandria’s eyes flickered with a brief, unreadable emotion. “Just some work. Nothing you’d want to hear about.”

Jean, sitting next to Kitty, noticed the shift in mood and decided to steer the conversation in a lighter direction. “Well, I’ve heard Paris is amazing. The Eiffel Tower, the food, the art. I’m looking forward to seeing it all.”

“Yeah, the food should be good,” Scott chimed in. “And I hear the shopping is fantastic. Maybe we’ll have some time to check out the boutiques.”

Rogue, who had been quietly listening, added with a smile, “I’m hoping to get a few souvenirs. Maybe some of those fancy French pastries.”

Alexandria nodded slightly, but her mind was elsewhere. She could feel the weight of her past pressing down on her, but she made an effort to push it aside. It was easier to focus on the present, even if it meant staying quiet.

They put their bags on a table where Logan and Ororo were loading them into the belly of the plane before climbing up the stairs into the hull.

Ororo looked over at Logan, who had just put another bag into the belly before picking up another one and repeating. She leaned against the table, glancing at his hands. “You must really like those gloves.” She commented with a grin. It didn’t go unnoticed by her that he was wearing the gloves Alexandria got him for Christmas, or the fact he seemed to wear them quite often.

Logan turned around and looked at Ororo before grabbing another bag and tossing it into the plane’s cargo hold. “What about them?” he asked, nodding toward the gloves Alexandria had given him. His tone was as gruff as ever, but there was a slight softness to his voice, a hint of appreciation.

Ororo smirked, crossing her arms. “I just noticed you’ve been wearing them a lot. They must be pretty comfortable.”

Logan grunted in agreement. “They’re good. Better than some of the stuff I’ve used before.”

The plane was set up in four four-group seating arrangements. There were 4 rows both ways, making 16 seats in total.

The kids sat down in their seats, Kitty and Jubilee in one row, and Scott and Jean in the row in front of them.

Kurt and Rogue sat in the two seats across from Alexandria who was currently looking out of the window.

Hank helped Charles onto the plane before getting in the pilot seat himself, and Ororo sat next to him. Logan quietly sat down next to Alexandria, who was still looking out of the window with an interest.

Logan settled into the seat next to Alexandria, letting out a soft sigh as he adjusted his position. The private jet was already starting to hum with the sound of engines firing up. He glanced over at Alexandria, who was still focused intently on the view outside the window, her expression unreadable.

“You gonna stare out that window the whole flight?” Logan asked gruffly, trying to break the silence. There was no edge to his tone, just a hint of curiosity.

Alexandria shifted her gaze momentarily, meeting his eyes with a brief look before returning to the scene outside. “It’s not often I get to see the world from this high up. It’s different.”

Logan gave a grunt of acknowledgment. “Yeah, it’s something. Especially if you’re used to staying grounded.”

She raised an eyebrow slightly, though her eyes remained on the window. “You’ve been up here a lot?”

“More than I’d like to admit,” Logan said with a smirk. “This is about as close to flying as I get, and I prefer solid ground. But for trips like this, it’s necessary.”

Alexandria nodded, absorbing his words. “I see.”

Their conversation was interrupted as the plane started to take off, the gentle rumble growing louder. Logan watched Alexandria’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. Despite her generally aloof demeanor, there was a faint spark of interest in her gaze as the plane climbed higher.

As she watched as the plane went high above the ground, the mansion becoming smaller and smaller, she hid a yawn under her hand.

It was hard to imagine that just 6 months ago, she was only allowed to sleep every two weeks, and now she had become used to 8 hours of sleep every night.

Jubilee, who sat across from her, was already playing a card game with Kurt, and Logan was reading a newspaper, which by the way Scott talked, should be extinct.

She rested her head on her fist, still looking at the window as her eyes became heavier. The steady hum of the plane and the rhythmic motion of the flight had a soothing effect, making her eyelids droop. What made it even easier was no one else was sleeping on this flight, meaning she didn’t even need her mind blocker to block out their dreams.

Logan, glancing over occasionally from his seat, noticed her struggling to stay awake. He could tell that despite her attempt to appear indifferent, she was tired. It was unusual to see her so relaxed, even if just a little.

After around 15 minutes, Jubilee and Kurt had finished two Uno games and were currently playing their third. Logan had flipped the page of the newspaper when a head slowly fell onto his right shoulder.

Logan felt the weight on his shoulder before he actually registered it. His initial reaction was to shift away, but he paused when he realized it was Alexandria’s head resting lightly on him. Her breathing was even, and she was clearly asleep.

He glanced around, seeing that none of the other kids were paying attention. Kurt and Jubilee were deep into their game, Scott and Jean were chatting quietly, and Hank was busy with the plane’s controls. Ororo, who was also monitoring the flight, occasionally glanced back with a thoughtful expression but said nothing.

Logan grunted softly, not entirely sure how to handle the situation. He shifted slightly to make her more comfortable, mindful not to jostle her too much. Alexandria stirred a bit but didn't wake up, her head adjusting to find a more comfortable position against his shoulder.

Logan let out a quiet sigh, his gaze softening as he watched her sleep. He’d seen her struggle with her own internal battles, her past with HYDRA casting long shadows. But there was something different about her now, a tentative trust he hadn’t seen before.

He heard a soft chuckle from the front of the plane and looked up to see Ororo watching him with a raised eyebrow. “Well, isn’t that a sight?” she said, her tone light but with a hint of amusement.

Logan gave her a sidelong look. “Yeah, well, she fell asleep on me. I didn’t ask for it.”

Ororo’s grin widened. “I’m sure she appreciates it more than you think.”

Logan grunted noncommittally, adjusting his posture to better support Alexandria’s head. The plane’s hum was steady, and the gentle motion seemed to be lulling her into a deeper sleep. Logan glanced at the other students, noting that most were preoccupied. He decided to let her rest for now.

As the plane continued its ascent, Logan turned his attention back to his newspaper, though he found it difficult to concentrate with Alexandria’s steady breathing against him. He couldn’t deny a small, grudging sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t often that he felt this kind of responsibility or connection, but Alexandria had a way of making him question his own boundaries.

A few minutes passed before he noticed a faint rustling from Alexandria. She shifted slightly but remained asleep, her face now resting more comfortably against his shoulder.

Jubilee, having finally won their Uno game, looked over at Logan and Alexandria with curiosity. “Logan,” Kurt whispered from across the aisle, glancing at Alexandria’s sleeping form with a small, amused smile. “Looks like you’re now a pillow.”

Logan shot him a look that was somewhere between a glare and a smirk. “Keep your voice down, elf. You’ll wake her.”

Kurt’s grin widened slightly, but he nodded and turned back to his game with Jubilee, keeping his voice low as they continued their banter over the cards.

As the conversation shifted back to the game, Logan remained focused on Alexandria, his thoughts drifting.

---

The first thing she noticed was that the plane had quickly grown quieter. Alexandria blinked her eyes and lifted her head, realizing multiple things.

Alexandria's eyes widened in realization as she registered her surroundings. The plane was empty, save for the faint trace of Kurt's tail disappearing down the stairs. Her initial reaction was a mix of embarrassment and confusion, compounded by the fact that she’d fallen asleep on Logan’s shoulder. That was definitely not something she intended to do, especially in front of someone as stoic and gruff as him.

She sat up quickly, glancing around to make sure no one else had witnessed the unintentional display of vulnerability. Logan was still there, flipping through the last few pages of his newspaper. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word, just let her sleep. The quiet in the plane felt almost suffocating as Alexandria considered what to say, if anything.

“Everyone’s already off,” Logan remarked without looking up, his tone casual but with an edge that suggested he was fully aware of her discomfort.

Alexandria cleared her throat, forcing herself to adopt her usual aloof demeanor. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she muttered, avoiding direct eye contact. She was rarely caught off-guard, and she didn’t like the feeling of being exposed, even in something as small as this.

Logan shrugged, folding the newspaper and tossing it onto the empty seat beside him. “Could’ve fooled me,” he replied, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess even you need some rest now and then.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of her usual aloofness. “I just didn’t expect to fall asleep like that.”

Logan shrugged, his expression softening a little. “It happens. Especially when you’re running on early mornings and packed schedules. But if you’re going to nap on me, at least you could warn me first.”

Alexandria’s gaze flickered to him, and she found herself momentarily caught off-guard by the faint trace of warmth in his eyes. It was rare to see Logan in such a relaxed state, and it made her feel oddly self-conscious.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “I guess it’s… nice of you to let me sleep.”

Logan grunted, giving her a sideways glance. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not usually this accommodating. But you needed it.”

As she stood up, Alexandria glanced out of the window, seeing that the plane had landed and the cityscape of Paris was visible through the small opening.

Alexandria took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness. She’d spent most of the flight asleep, and now she had to adjust to the reality of being in Paris again, though this time it was for a very different reason than before.

As the plane’s door opened and the cool air from outside drifted in, the rest of the group began to gather their things and prepare to disembark. Jean and Scott were already up, stretching and chatting excitedly about their plans. Kitty and Jubilee were deep in discussion about the shopping they hoped to do.

“Ready to explore, Alexandria?” Kitty called out, her enthusiasm evident as she grabbed her bag.

Alexandria forced a smile. “Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be.”

Logan gave her a sideways glance as he collected his own gear. “Stick close. Paris might be a nice place, but it’s still a big city.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alexandria replied, trying to match his tone but with a touch of her own dry humor.

As they disembarked, Ororo and Hank were at the front, making sure everyone had their passports and documents in order. The excitement was palpable among the students, though Alexandria found herself falling back into her usual state of quiet observation.

They stepped into the bustling Parisian airport, the noise and activity of travelers creating a lively backdrop. Logan remained close to Alexandria, his presence a steadying force as they navigated through the crowd.

“Everyone’s excited, huh?” Logan said, keeping his voice low as they walked. “Don’t let it overwhelm you.”

Alexandria glanced at him, noting the subtle concern in his tone. “I think I can handle a bit of excitement.”

Logan grunted, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “Good. Just making sure.”

Outside, a pair of sleek black cars awaited them, and they quickly piled into the vehicles. The drive through Paris was filled with landmarks passing by in a blur: the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, and the bustling streets filled with people starting their day.

As they approached their accommodations, a charming boutique hotel in the heart of the city, Alexandria couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia mixed with a sense of trepidation. The hotel was elegant, with its classic Parisian architecture and warm, inviting atmosphere.

They checked in and were soon settled into their rooms. Alexandria found herself sharing a room with Kitty and Jean, which suited her well enough.

“Ready to hit the streets?” Kitty asked, pulling Alexandria from her thoughts as she joined them in the room.

“Yeah,” Alexandria replied. “Just give me a minute to get my bearings.”

As they prepared to head out, Logan and the rest of the teachers were already gathered in the lobby, ready to brief the students on their plans for the day.

“Alright, listen up,” Logan called out, his voice carrying authority. “We’re going to split into smaller groups to explore different parts of the city. You’ve got a map and a list of recommended spots. Just make sure to check in with us periodically.”

As they set off in their respective directions, Alexandria found herself with Kitty, Jean, and Scott, who were eager to take in the sights. Despite her initial reservations, she found that the lively atmosphere of Paris was starting to chip away at her reserve.

The day passed in a whirlwind of sights, sounds, and experiences. They visited charming cafes, browsed through quirky boutiques, and marveled at the beauty of the city. Alexandria found herself slowly relaxing, allowing the charm of Paris to work its magic. The memories of her past missions felt distant, overshadowed by the simple joy of exploring a new place.

As they regrouped for lunch, Alexandria sat with Kitty and Jean at a small outdoor café, enjoying a moment of respite. The Eiffel Tower loomed in the background, a stunning reminder of the city’s grandeur.

“Not bad, huh?” Kitty said, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Yeah,” Alexandria agreed, allowing herself a genuine smile. “It’s not what I expected.”

Jean grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I knew you’d like it. Paris has a way of growing on you.”

Alexandria took another sip of her coffee, the rich flavor providing a small comfort amidst her swirling thoughts. “Yeah, it’s definitely not what I expected,” she said, her voice a touch warmer than usual. “I guess it’s easier to appreciate when you’re not here on a mission.”

Kitty raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been pretty quiet about what those missions were like. Maybe you should tell us more about what you did.”

Alexandria shook her head slightly, a small frown tugging at her lips. “Not really interested in talking about the past right now. Let’s just enjoy the present.”

Jean nodded, sensing the shift in Alexandria’s mood. “Fair enough. There’s plenty to see and do. We’ve got the whole afternoon ahead of us.”

Scott, who had been listening to the conversation, leaned forward. “Any particular places you guys want to check out? I’m up for anything.”

Kitty tapped her map thoughtfully. “How about we head over to Montmartre? I’ve heard the view from there is amazing.”

Alexandria glanced up at the mention of Montmartre, her curiosity piqued. “Montmartre? I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know much about it.”

“It's a neighborhood known for its artistic history,” Jean explained. “The view from the top of the hill is supposed to be one of the best in Paris. Plus, there’s a lot of interesting street art and little cafes.”

“Sounds good to me,” Alexandria said, surprising herself with how much she was looking forward to it.

Kitty stood up, signaling to the others. “Alright then, Montmartre it is. Let’s finish up here and head out.”

As they left the café, the city’s energy seemed to lift Alexandria’s spirits. She walked alongside Kitty, Jean, and Scott, feeling the vibrant pulse of Paris in a way she hadn’t anticipated. The streets were alive with people, the architecture a blend of old and new, and the whole experience felt almost surreal.

When they arrived in Montmartre, the area was bustling with activity. Artists lined the streets, displaying their work for passersby. The narrow streets and charming buildings added to the neighborhood’s unique atmosphere.

Kitty immediately started taking pictures of the street art, her excitement palpable. “This place is amazing! Look at all these colors.”

Jean and Scott wandered off to explore the shops, while Alexandria found herself drawn to a small park with a view of the city. She took a seat on a bench, appreciating the quiet moment amidst the lively surroundings.

A few minutes later, Jean and Scott joined her, their faces flushed from the walk but full of enthusiasm. “We found a really cool bookstore nearby,” Jean said. “You should come check it out.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “A bookstore? Sounds… different.”

“It’s not just any bookstore,” Scott said with a grin. “It’s got a lot of rare and antique books. I thought you might like it.”

Apparently, they knew exactly what to say to get her up from the bench. “Alright,” Alexandria agreed, standing up. “Lead the way.”

They made their way to the bookshop, where Kitty, Kurt, and Jubilee already were. Alexandria made her way to a group of books in the international section.

There was a small shelf of Russian books and a spine of one of them caught her eye. ‘The Science Behind the Atomic Bomb. The spine looked exactly like a book her dad had. She picked it up and flipped through it, seeing diagrams and lots of rambling.

One quote stood out, it was one her dad always told her brother, “Everything that the human mind can understand and believe is achievable.”

Alexandria heard a clicking noise from somewhere around her as she looked up from the book. The sound was faint, almost like a camera shutter, but there was no one nearby who seemed to be taking pictures. She glanced around, her instincts immediately on high alert.

With a sense of unease creeping over her, she carefully returned the book to the shelf and made her way back to the group. Kitty, Jean, Scott, Jubilee, and Kurt were all engrossed in various sections of the bookstore, but Alexandria’s mind was still occupied by the strange clicking sound.

"Everything okay?" Jean asked, noticing the slight tension in Alexandria’s posture as she approached.

"Yeah," Alexandria replied, though her voice lacked its usual confidence. "Just thought I heard something."

Scott glanced around the bookstore, his eyes scanning the aisles. "You sure it wasn’t just someone taking a picture or something?"

"It might have been," Alexandria said, though she wasn’t convinced. Her instincts told her otherwise, but she didn’t want to alarm the others. "Let’s just keep moving."

Kitty, who had been admiring a display of rare books, looked up. "You want to check out something else? We’ve got a few more stops we could make before heading back."

As Alexandria forced herself to remain casual, she nodded to the group. “Yeah, sure,” she said, her tone betraying a hint of tension despite her efforts to sound relaxed. The uneasy feeling from the clicking noise lingered, but she tried to focus on the present and enjoy the rest of the day. She followed Kitty, Jean, Scott, and the others as they continued exploring Montmartre.

The neighborhood was vibrant with street performers, colorful murals, and the delightful scent of freshly baked pastries wafting from nearby cafes. Alexandria tried to immerse herself in the energy of the place, though her mind kept drifting back to the strange noise she’d heard in the bookstore.

Kitty was enthusiastically pointing out various street artists and their work. “Look at that one!” she said, pointing to a mural of a fantastical creature with bright, swirling colors. “It’s amazing how creative people can be.”

Jean, Scott, and Jubilee were busy taking photos and chatting about the different sights. Alexandria, however, found herself trailing behind slightly, her eyes scanning the crowd and the surroundings with a hint of wariness.

“Hey, Alexandria,” Scott called, noticing her distracted demeanor. “You okay? You seem a bit off.”

Alexandria forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… not used to being so surrounded by people.”

Scott gave her a sympathetic look. “I get it. It can be overwhelming. If you need a break, just let us know.”

“Thanks,” Alexandria said, appreciating his offer even though she wasn’t quite ready to admit her discomfort.

They continued walking through Montmartre, the group making stops at various shops and cafes. Alexandria’s unease slowly began to fade as she let herself be swept up in the charm of the neighborhood. She found a small café that sold a variety of pastries and decided to grab a couple to try.

As she was examining the display case, Kitty and the rest joined her. “These look incredible,” Kitty said, eyeing the pastries with a look of excitement. “What do you want to try?”

The group choose the pastries they wanted as Alexandria went up to order, “Je prends une religieuse, une profiterole, un pain au chocolat, un kouign amann, une croustade pêches et baies, un mille-feuille et un sablés breton.”

The cashier nodded and went to get their items after Alexandria paid for it. She went back to the group who stood by a table. “I didn’t know you knew how to speak French!” Jubilee exclaimed.

Alexandria shrugged, “I speak 10 languages.”

Jubilee's eyes widened as she processed Alexandria's casual admission. "Ten languages? That's insane!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "How do you even keep track of that many?"

Alexandria shrugged again, nonchalant. "You just do," she replied, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Kitty handed out the pastries Alexandria had ordered, her curiosity piqued. "Okay, but now I have to ask, what other languages do you know?"

Alexandria took a bite of her mille-feuille before responding. "Russian, obviously. English, French, German, Spanish, Mandarin, Arabic, Japanese, Italian, and Polish."

Scott let out a low whistle. "Impressive. Did HYDRA train you in all those?"

Alexandria nodded, her expression not giving away much. "They had their reasons."

The group fell silent for a moment, absorbing what Alexandria had shared. It was a stark reminder of her past, and while they were all aware of her history, hearing her talk about it so matter-of-factly brought a certain weight to the conversation.

Jubilee, always one to lighten the mood, spoke up again. "Well, now we know who to go to when we need a translator. Seriously, that’s like having a superpower on its own."

Alexandria smirked, a rare hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "Yeah, I guess it has its uses."

The group continued to enjoy their pastries, the tension from earlier slowly dissipating as they chatted about lighter topics. Alexandria found herself more at ease, the camaraderie of the group providing a comforting backdrop to their day in Paris.

As they finished up and prepared to move on to their next stop, Alexandria couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of being watched. The clicking noise from the bookstore gnawed at her, a subtle but persistent reminder that her past might not be as distant as she wanted it to be.

They eventually made their way out of Montmartre, deciding to explore the more tourist-heavy areas before heading back to the café near the Eiffel Tower. The group meandered through the streets, stopping occasionally to take photos or check out a particularly interesting shop.

At one point, they passed a small street vendor selling an assortment of trinkets and souvenirs. Jubilee immediately gravitated towards the colorful display, her eyes lighting up as she examined a set of intricately designed keychains. "These are so cute!" she exclaimed, holding up one shaped like the Eiffel Tower.

Kitty joined her, picking up a small snow globe with the Paris skyline inside. "These would make great gifts," she mused, turning it over in her hands. "I think I’ll get a few for some of the others back home."

Scott and Jean hung back slightly, talking quietly between themselves, while Alexandria stayed a bit further behind, her attention wandering. She glanced around, taking in the bustling activity of the city, but her mind was still preoccupied with the strange sense of unease she couldn’t quite shake.

---

The group made it back to the hotel and made sure to check in with Logan, Hank, Charles, and Ororo. Jean gave Charles a knick knack, Jubilee gave Ororo a hat, and Scott gave Hank a book. They all chatted eagerly with them as Alexandria stood at the back, quiet and keeping a watch around. She thought no one noticed her watching until Logan came by her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Logan's hand on Alexandria’s shoulder was a firm but subtle gesture, grounding her in the moment. His touch was neither overly gentle nor demanding, a reflection of his understanding of her and their shared rough edges.

"You good, kid?" Logan asked, his voice laced with a hint of concern. He didn’t pry, just offered a moment of connection.

Alexandria shrugged slightly, her usual response when she wasn’t sure how to put her thoughts into words. “Yeah. Just… keeping an eye out.”

Logan gave her a knowing nod, understanding without the need for her to elaborate. “Old habits,” he commented, not as a question but as a statement of fact.

“Yeah,” she admitted, her eyes scanning the lobby once more before meeting his. “Can’t shake it.”

Logan’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained typically stoic. “It’ll take time. You’ve got good instincts—just don’t let ‘em ruin a good moment.”

She almost smirked at that, appreciating his attempt to ease her tension without making her feel like she was being coddled. “I’m working on it.”

The two stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching as the others continued their animated conversations with the teachers. Alexandria was still on alert, but Logan’s presence at her side made it easier for her to relax, even if only a little.

Alexandria lifted the small backpack she had and pulled out a white paper bag. “I got you something. It’s a sablés Breton. It’s a salted butter cookie, and it’s not supposed to be too sweet.”

Logan’s brow furrowed slightly as Alexandria handed him the paper bag. He took it, his fingers brushing against hers briefly. He raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and amusement flickering in his eyes.

“A sablés Breton, huh?” he said, looking at the bag with a touch of skepticism. “What’s the catch?”

Alexandria smirked, trying to mask her own unease with a hint of confidence. “No catch. Just something I thought you might like. I’ve been told it’s a good cookie, not too sweet. Figured it might be worth a try.”

Logan gave her a half-smile, a rare expression that softened his typically gruff demeanor. “Well, I’m not one to turn down a cookie. Let’s see if it lives up to the hype.”

He pulled out one of the cookies and took a bite, his expression thoughtful as he chewed. Alexandria watched him closely, her eyes betraying her nerves. After a moment, Logan nodded approvingly.

“Not bad,” he said, his tone begrudgingly appreciative. “Definitely better than some of the crap I’ve had over the years.”

Alexandria’s lips curled into a small, relieved smile. “Good to know. It was the least I could do.”

Logan’s eyes softened just a touch more. “I appreciate it. And… if you ever need to talk or anything, you know where to find me. Doesn’t have to be about cookies.”

Alexandria nodded, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of gratitude and surprise. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two stood in a companionable silence for a moment, watching as the others chatted and laughed nearby. The atmosphere around them was relaxed, a stark contrast to the tension Alexandria had been feeling earlier. Logan’s presence, though gruff, provided a steady anchor amidst her swirling thoughts.

---

The week went by smoothly, with everyone getting back on the plane with more stuff than they came with. Some of the things were for themselves, and some were to give to the others when they got back to the mansion.

Alexandria was currently putting a few new clothes she got in her closet. Today was Sunday, but Kitty and Jean needed to go out to the mall to get a few essentials, like body wash and shampoo, so Alexandria and even Scott were going to come along.

She grabbed a purse she bought in Paris, which was $5,000, thanks to Tony Stark’s credit card, and headed out to the garage in a comfortable outfit. It was a cropped grey t-shirt with short sleeves, loose-fitting cargo pants and black high-top Converse.

As she headed into the garage by staircase, Kitty came out by the elevator nearby, and Scott and Jean were already in the car.

Kitty spotted Alexandria and waved enthusiastically. “Hey! Ready for some mall action?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Alexandria replied with a small, genuine smile.

In the garage, Scott and Jean were already in the car. Scott was behind the wheel, his expression relaxed as he fiddled with the radio. Jean sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone.

“Hey, Alexandria!” Scott greeted, looking up as she approached. “All set?”

“Yep,” Alexandria said, sliding into the back seat next to Kitty. “Ready to hit the mall.”

Jean glanced over her shoulder, giving Alexandria a friendly smile. “We’re just waiting for you two.”

As Scott started the car and pulled out of the garage, the conversation shifted to their plans for the day. Jean mentioned a few stores they needed to visit, and Kitty chimed in with her shopping list. Alexandria listened, her gaze drifting out the window as they made their way towards the mall.

The drive was uneventful, and soon they arrived at the bustling shopping center. The mall was busy, with people streaming in and out of stores, the sounds of chatter and footsteps filling the air. Alexandria followed Kitty, Jean, and Scott as they made their way through the crowds.

“So, what’s first on the agenda?” Kitty asked, clutching a shopping bag as she looked at the group.

Jean consulted her list. “We need to get body wash, then head to Sephora for shampoo. After that, we can wander a bit and see what catches our eye.”

Scott nodded in agreement. “Sounds like a plan. Lead the way.”

They made their way to the first store, a large department store with a variety of personal care products. Alexandria trailed behind, her eyes scanning the aisles as they walked. She picked out a few items, but her mind was still partially focused on the strange clicking noise she had heard in Paris. The feeling of being watched had faded, but she couldn’t completely shake off the sense of unease.

Kitty and Jean were busy discussing the merits of different brands of body wash, while Scott looked over the selection of shampoos. Alexandria grabbed a few bottles of strawberry scented body wash and the same scent in lotion. Her and Scott followed Kitty and Jean around until they were done and they checked out.

It wasn’t until they were leaving the store that she caught a glimpse of a man standing near the entrance, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he quickly looked away. He was dressed casually, blending in with the crowd, but there was something about him that set off alarm bells in Alexandria’s mind.

She didn’t react outwardly, but her senses were now on high alert. As they made their way to the next store, she kept a close eye on their surroundings, subtly scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble.

Kitty, Jean, and Scott were blissfully unaware of her heightened vigilance, chatting about their plans for the rest of the day. Alexandria, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.

As they entered another store, Alexandria made a point of positioning herself near the entrance, giving herself a clear view of anyone coming or going. She spotted the man again, this time lingering outside, pretending to be interested in a display of sunglasses.

Her instincts screamed at her to do something, but she knew she couldn’t act rashly. Instead, she stayed close to the group, keeping her eyes on the man without making it obvious that she was aware of him.

Instinctively, her hand reached behind her back, when she realized she wasn’t on a mission, and therefore did not have a gun. It was also illegal to shoot in a busy mall.

She kept her eyes on the man until Jean and Kitty were done and they headed out. Alexandria noticed that Scott unspokenly took Jean’s bags from her hands.

Once they were in the car, Kitty mentioned that she was hungry. Scott, who was driving once again, turned to face her at a stop sign. “Have you tried a burger yet, Alexandria?”

Scott’s question caught Alexandria off guard. She leaned forward, genuinely curious. “No. What’s that?”

Scott looked surprised, but then a grin spread across his face. “You’ve never had a burger? It’s a classic American dish. Basically, a beef patty in a bun, usually with some kind of toppings. Lettuce, tomato, cheese… that sort of thing.”

Alexandria nodded slowly, trying to piece together the description. “Sounds… simple enough.”

Jean chimed in from the passenger seat, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “You definitely need to try one. They’re a staple, and there are so many variations. You can get them with different toppings or even veggie options if you’re not into meat.”

Kitty, who had been scrolling through her phone, glanced up. “I know a great place nearby. They have this burger that’s super popular. I think it would be perfect for you to try.”

Scott nodded in agreement, his expression clearly amused. “Alright, it’s settled then. We’ll grab burgers. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

Alexandria settled back into her seat, her curiosity piqued. “Alright. I’m open to trying new things.”

They made their way to the burger joint that Kitty recommended. It was around 10 minutes away, and the GPS on Jean’s phone took them down a side street with barely any cars.

Kitty was currently showing pictures of burgers to Alexandria when Scott let out a whispered curse. Jean leaned over, “what is it?”

Scott’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he pressed down on the brake pedal again and again. The car, however, continued to speed up, the side street ahead narrowing ominously.

“The brake isn’t working,” Scott muttered, his voice tense with barely contained panic.

Jean leaned over, eyes wide with concern as she tried to help. “What do you mean, the brake isn’t working? Can you try shifting it into neutral?”

“I’m trying,” Scott replied through gritted teeth, his hand fumbling with the gear shift. But nothing changed—the car continued its dangerous momentum down the street.

Kitty’s phone slipped from her hand as she leaned forward, her face pale. “We need to get out of here. We should jump.”

Alexandria, calm despite the situation, reached for the door handle, yanking at it. “The doors are locked,” she said, her voice edged with frustration.

“Break the windows,” Jean suggested quickly, her telekinetic powers already flickering to life as she aimed to shatter the glass.

But before Jean could focus enough to unleash her powers, the car swerved uncontrollably, the tires screeching against the asphalt. Scott tried to maneuver the wheel, but it was too late. A flash of metal appeared in their peripheral vision as a car careened toward them from the opposite direction.

The impact was brutal, slamming into the side of their vehicle with a force that knocked the breath out of everyone. The sound of crunching metal, shattering glass, and the dull thuds of bodies slamming against their seats filled the air. Darkness enveloped them as consciousness slipped away.

---

Alexandria was the first to come to, her mind foggy as she blinked against the harsh light that filtered through the cracked windshield. A sharp pain radiated from her left shoulder, but she pushed it aside, instincts kicking in. The car was eerily silent, the only sound a faint ringing in her ears.

She looked around quickly. Scott was slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious. Jean’s head rested against the passenger window, blood trickling from a cut on her forehead. Kitty was next to Alexandria, her breathing shallow but steady.

Before she could make a move to check on the others, the car door beside her was yanked open, and rough hands grabbed her by the arm. She reacted instantly, her training from HYDRA surging to the forefront. But the grip was too strong, and her disorientation was enough to keep her from putting up a fight.

“Don’t struggle,” a cold voice hissed in her ear, the thick accent unmistakably Russian.

Alexandria’s heart pounded in her chest as she was dragged out of the car, her feet stumbling on the uneven ground. She was shoved forward, her vision still blurred as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The street was empty save for the two cars, both wrecked from the collision. The man who had grabbed her was dressed in black tactical gear, his face obscured by a balaclava.

She went to elbow him but he caught her elbow before handcuffing her hands behind her back.

Before she could act, the man behind her spoke again, his voice cold and detached. “You don’t want to do anything stupid, little girl. Just get in the van.”

As they moved away from the wreckage, she caught sight of a van parked a little further down the street. The back doors were open, revealing more men inside, similarly dressed. This wasn’t just a random attack—this was a coordinated effort. They had been targeted.

Her eyes darted around, looking for an opening, for anything that could give her the upper hand. But the man’s grip on her arms tightened, cutting off her circulation and her thoughts of escape. She was pushed toward the van, the metallic scent of blood mixing with the acrid smell of gasoline from the wrecked vehicles.

Inside the van, she could see that it was lined with reinforced metal, designed to keep anyone inside from getting out. A chill ran down her spine. This was a prison on wheels.

As she was forced closer to the van, Alexandria’s mind raced, trying to calculate her options. The element of surprise was gone, and she was outnumbered. But she wasn’t defenseless. Her powers, though not as honed as she’d like, were still there.

It was better to not fight and further risk Jean, Kitty, and Scott, and instead be taken. But she didn’t leave without putting a message inside Jean’s head, which wasn’t easy. Jean certainly was a strong telepath, but all Alexandria did before being shoved into the van, was put a symbol of HYDRA in her dream.

The doors to the van closed as a needle was inserted into her neck, and a black bag over her head.

i'm gonna try and upload the next few chapters asap in the next 3-5 days, just so there isn't much wait. but no promises!

[spotaus]

Mm, New Age au my beloved (I just knocked out like... a lot of stuff I needed to do, so here's a quick post before I get back to it) oh! And @ancha-aus hiiiii :]

I know I focus a lot on Night but like... Dream! Dream is a huge part of the story!! So here's a tease at wtf has been up with Dream since Night ate the apple.

So... Dream! He was exiled, but he wasn't left on his lonesome. Nightmare contacted a neighboring kingdom that they already had a treaty with, and asked for them to watch over the crown prince, as he was no longer "fit to rule". They'd accepted, and Night shipped him off at the earliest convenience.

Of course, Dream had no clue it was for his own good, so naturally, after lamenting to this other kingdom about what had happened, how everything changed, he garnered pity, and then support, when Nightmare confirmed Dream's story through letters. Though, the kingdom couldn't afford a war, so they just had to stand idly by.

Dream only stayed there a few years, because by the time he was about 17, he'd become good friends with a squire: Blue. Blue worked around the castle, doing all sorts of tasks for the knight training him, but despite his exceptional skill he remained at the level of Squire due to his age. Blue was very devoted to Dream as his friend and self-proclaimed protector. He looked up to Dream, and was positive he would defeat his brother and take back the throne.

And so, when Dream left on his own to gather experience and followers without endangering this kingdom, Blue followed. Blue was never officially Knighted, but their first night in an Inn, alone on the road, start of their journey, Dream honorarily knighted Blue with his power as a prince. (That's why I refer to Blue as a Knight, even tho no one ever *actually* knighted him and he has no affiliations with any kingdoms.)

Dream was picky with who he recruited and when. He and Blue found a nice little abandoned cottage to start their base of operations, and would travel to recruit people they thought would be of value. Dream wasn't versed in espionage or inner-working over the government, but he knew how to talk to crowds. Sway the people. Plus, feeling emotions helped out too. (I like to think that's something the twins have naturally. Dream's grows with Age, and Night (due to lack of training) only has it when he's corrupted and very little hints when he's young.) So over the course of years, Dream gains more and more support. Like a militia among the neighboring countries as well as in Night's kingdom.

Ink and Cross came together. Ink had been looking for a new job, as he was a mercenary (though his talent was really in the arts) and Cross was a soldier who had left the kingdom a few rivers over that crumbled under a coup. Ink liked Dream's energy right from the start and was completely swayed with the idea of getting a lot of easy work for pay. Meanwhile Cross needed a new hope. Despite leaving a crumbling castle with no hope, Dream seemed to be working towards a better future in this kingdom. Of course he joined him, because that meant he'd live to see an era of peace. (<- of course, Cross finds out this kingdom is actually banger and the current king was slowly working through improving each piece of it, ensuring the whole kingdom could thrive one piece at a time.)

Dream never stopped training, and over the years he lost track of just how different Night was. He lost the script, a bit. His childish mind turning Night's actions all those years ago into a conspiracy. He had an echo-chamber of support, with no outside voice (no Nightmare) to remind him of the truth.

This cottage remains their base, and expands into a small town/camp. Nightmare is taken here when Dream kidnaps him from the castle the first time, too. This place is filled with plants and magic and is thriving. The perfect place to find the golden king.

[brickmvster]

Savior [Abby Anderson x Reader]

Synopsis: You and Abby, best friends, aren't quite sure where you both stand with each other. After you get attacked while out on patrol, you begin to experience feelings of inadequacy; Abby, however, reminds you of just how important you are, and it is during this conversation that both of your true feelings come to the surface.

Tags: minor violence, non-graphic violence, near death experiences, panic attacks, minor injuries, friends to lovers, love confessions, emotional hurt/comfort, nightmares, fluff, a little suggestive toward the end but not explicit

Word Count: 8k+

Author's Note: this is my first time posting a fic of mine to tumblr (also my first time writing for Abby)! I'm nervous and also excited 😭 this has been proofread quite a few times but apologies in advance if any spelling and/or grammarical errors slipped by me, mistakes are all mine! I almost cried writing this bc my god do I want an Abby of my own. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is always welcome. This was cross posted on AO3 as well.

For the first time since joining the Washington Liberation Front, you finally felt like you were doing some real work. Fear and inexperience prevented you from going out on patrols, and for several months you stuck with doing laundry and food preparation. But many grueling and difficult weeks of weapon training and learning about basic self defense left you feeling confident – a feeling that, up until now, was wholly unfamiliar to you.

You were currently sitting patiently in your room, bag packed with all of the essentials and necessities for your first patrol trip. You were just waiting for your roommate and patrol partner, Whitney, to knock on the door and announce when it’s time to go. 

You could tell from the way your stomach felt like it was upside down that you were feeling a little nervous. Just months ago, doing anything that meant leaving the stadium absolutely terrified you; it was a safe haven and leaving it meant you were no longer protected from the unforgiving nature of a post-apocalyptic city. You weren’t afraid of the infected – you had encountered plenty of them prior to being recruited, and you couldn’t even begin to count how many you had taken down during your years as a lone survivor. 

No, you were far more scared of your own species . Within the once densely populated city of Seattle, you were completely by yourself with no sense of stability as you packed your stuff and relocated once every few days, paranoia never allowing you to stay in one place for any longer. Of course, there was also the looming threat of being captured by the Seraphites or brutally killed by other survivors. You were a true pacifist, having mastered the art of being light on your feet and narrowly avoiding getting into physical altercations with other people. Trees, tall grass, and anything else nature provided you with helped you in silently escaping without leaving a single trace. You had your fair share of close calls, like anyone would, but what you lacked in weapon knowledge and fighting skills you made up for in quick thinking.

One day, though, your luck had finally decided to run out. 

Your recollection of that day was hazy, but you could vividly remember sleeping on a raggedy couch within an abandoned house, before raiders had forcefully entered your home. You don’t really remember who started shooting first. There was so much screaming, and your ears were ringing from the piercing and relentless sound of gunfire. There had to have been three guys. Maybe four, you weren’t exactly sure. They were clumsy and missed a lot of their shots. Until they didn’t, and suddenly there was a hole in your leg. Although they couldn’t aim well, you weren’t any better. Your shots usually ended up in a wall or going through a window. But you did manage to take them all out. Almost all of them, because one guy had taken you completely by surprise, pinning you against a wall and attempting to inflict a stab wound.

But that was when a mysterious woman with a braid showed up.

There were other people with her but you could only remember seeing her. She took out the guy attacking you swiftly, her aim incredibly precise, the bullet going straight through his head. She aimed it at you, and immediately your arms went up – that was when you locked eyes with her, her gaze sharp and unwavering. Your eyes were blown wide, your heart rate never slowing down and adrenaline still pumping through you. You were pleading to her silently.

You knew you had managed to sway her when she had slowly lowered her pistol. She gazed down at your leg, and you’ll never forget the unexpected softness in her voice when she told you:

“I got you.”

Then, she let you wrap your arm around her shoulders, and she helped you exit the bullet-ridden house. She took you in and taught you how to shoot better; but you refused to help out with patrols, and that was when your fear of leaving the stadium had begun to blossom. You felt powerless in that moment back in the abandoned house. You almost died because of your cluelessness, and your inability to kill, let alone even hurt another human.

After having been rescued, your time spent doing busy work at the stadium is when you found yourself growing closer to the woman, who you had soon found out was named Abby. Despite Whitney being your roommate, she barely ever saw you – you were always spending time with Abby, whether it be eating together in the cafeteria, having in-depth conversations about random books that Abby may have found while on patrol (because that was one major thing the both of you had in common, surprisingly), or just enjoying each other's company and not exchanging any words at all, comforted by the mere feeling of the other person being in the same room. 

You soon realized, though, that you weren’t supposed to be experiencing a spike in heart rate after your hand accidentally brushed hers. You weren’t supposed to feel that stupid fluttery feeling your stomach whenever she laughed at something you said or smiled at you. You weren’t supposed to feel warmth spread throughout your cheeks at the sight of her sweaty and breathing heavily from exertion after working out. You told all of this to Whitney, and she only laughed at your suffering, telling you to your face that you had a crush on your best friend.

But it didn’t feel like a crush. Crushes were fleeting. You wanted Abby. You yearned for her closeness and thought about sleeping in her arms every single night, her lips pressing against your forehead. 

All of this, of course, terrified you. You had never experienced any feeling as strong as this. You always rolled your eyes at some of the cheesy romance novels you read, as the main characters always seemed so overdramatic to you. You never thought the feeling of desire could be so painful. You saw Abby everyday, and yet she felt so far away at the same time. Suddenly those romance novels felt too real.

You suppressed these feelings the best you could, because you weren’t even sure if Abby felt the same way. You had a strong feeling she didn’t, and you weren’t going to severely embarrass yourself by confessing your love to someone who you were sure wasn’t going to reciprocate those feelings.

You weren’t sure how well you’d be able to suppress your feelings for any longer, though, knowing that Abby was actually going to be joining you on patrol. 

Maybe that was the true reason for your nervousness.

Three knocks on your door pulled you out of the recesses of your mind. Whitney’s muffled voice could be heard on the other side.

“You ready?” She asked. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” You replied with a sigh. You stood up from the bed and grabbed your backpack, slinging the straps securely over your shoulders. Whitney had opened the door, meeting your eyes with a smile. You returned the warm expression, exiting your room, and locking the door behind you. The two of you made your way down the hall.

“How’re you feeling? Excited? Nervous?” Whitney questioned. You shrugged.

“Honestly? I’m feeling all sorts of things. I just hope everything goes well.” You replied. Whitney playfully nudged you with her shoulder.

“Hey, don’t worry too much. Most of the time, patrol runs go pretty smoothly. You’re bound to have some mishaps here and there, but usually everyone comes back safely. We’ll be alright, I know it.”

You felt reassured by Whitney’s words, grinning at her as a silent thanks for soothing your nerves. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you for another few minutes, but it wasn’t long until Whitney was speaking again, deciding to discuss another topic.

“So… about you and Abby.” She began.

You groaned in annoyance,feeling warmth immediately spread to your cheeks at the mere mention of the woman’s name. Whitney only chuckled at your obvious suffering. “I was wondering… did you two fight?”

You turned your head to look at Whitney quizzically. “No? What makes you think we fought?”

Whitney looked at you like you just asked her what two plus two was. “The both of you haven’t talked to each other in like… 10 years. I can’t help but think something happened.”

“We still talk to each other, Whitney.”

“Does only saying ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ count as talking?” She asked.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the truth in Whitney’s words. You hadn’t actually held a conversation with Abby in days . She would always make an effort to spend time with you but you always had some kind of excuse at the ready. They were often lousy ones, and you could tell that Abby could see right through them but decided against saying anything about it.

“I admit, things are… awkward between us, but-”

“She feels the same way.”

You paused in the middle of your sentence, sighing exasperatedly. “Whitney… how can you be so sure?”

“Because I see it. Just take my word for it, okay?” She replied, giving you a teasing smile. You didn’t even have time to respond, since the two of you had already reached your destination.

Eventually, you made it to where Abby and Alice were waiting near the vehicles. You saw Abby kneeling on the ground, gently petting Alice and showering the canine in all of the praise and affection in the world. While grabbing your weapons and extra ammunition, you stole a few glances at her, feeling a smile creep up on your lips as you watched Alice lick her face happily, to which Abby tried to move away, the sound of laughter cutting through all the chatter and extra noise that you heard around you. 

You’d never be able to get over the way Abby’s smile lit up her entire face, or the way her cheeks gradually took on a redder tint the longer the laughing continued. Abby would react the same way whenever you told her a stupid joke, or whenever you told about a funny line of dialogue in a book you took turns reading–

“When you’re done making googly eyes at your crush, come get in the truck, please.” Whitney’s voice, once again, pulled you out of your pleasant trance.

You cleared your throat, looking away shyly. “Right. My bad.”

You made sure your pistol was snug in your holster before slinging your rifle over your shoulder and making your way toward Abby. She stood up from her kneeling position on the floor, a certain something in her eyes that you just couldn’t decipher. She smiled at you a little awkwardly, brushing a loose strand of hair that fell in front of her face behind her ear.

“Heya.” She spoke. You grinned, ignoring the slight jump in your heart rate just from standing in front of her.

“Hi.” You replied, butterflies viciously attacking your stomach against your will. 

“First patrol. You got everything you need?”

“Believe so.”

“Alright, then. Let’s get moving.” She said, to which you nodded curtly.

Whitney opened the door to the passenger’s side, allowing Alice to jump in. As Abby was already climbing into the back of the truck, you threw a glare in Whitney’s direction, to which Whitney only smiled deviously. 

“What? Alice loves riding shotgun!” She said innocently before getting into the driver’s seat and giggling to herself like a plotting supervillain in a movie.

You shook your head, reluctantly getting into the back of the truck with Abby. When everyone was all settled, Whitney took off, eventually exiting the stadium. All that could be heard for several minutes was the sound of the tires on the dirt road and the songs from the birds that flew overhead. Abby seemed to be looking everywhere but at you, and Whitney’s eyes were focused on the road ahead, so you took this time to let your eyes take in the view directly in front of you.

Abby had settled for her usual loose tank top and cargo pants, and her hair was in her usual braid. There were always strands of hair that managed to fall in front of her face anyway, and you found it absolutely adorable how she would occasionally blow the strands out of her face in annoyance. You let yourself relax in your seat a little, admiring the constellations of freckles on her arms. Briefly, you were taken back to your last training session with her, remembering the way those same arms wrapped around you to “help you adjust your fighting stance.” You could easily recall her proximity during the session and the look of genuine proudness on her face when you successfully demonstrated a specific move she had taught you. Of course, you’ll never forget the moment you had her totally stunned, using a newly learned takedown move to pin her to the ground. A flame had been ignited in both of her eyes as she looked at you with something other than pride. It was an expression that you couldn't quite pinpoint, but you knew that if you had kept her pinned for any longer that you would've ended up doing something you'd regret; so, you were off of her quickly, laughing the obvious tension away and completely burying Abby's heated gaze in your mind and storing it for later.

When your eyes moved up from Abby's biceps and to face, you found she was already looking at you. She offered you a small smile, to which returned, feeling heat creep up your neck in embarrassment at being caught ogling. Either Abby didn't notice or chose not to comment, and whatever the case was, you were thankful.

She rested both of her elbows on her knees, spreading her legs as she leaned forward. Abby man-spreading was another sight to behold.

"So. How have you been doing?" She asked. 

Miserable. Because I miss you and I'm sorry for pushing you away but I'm in love with you and can't find the words. 

You opted for a simpler response. "I've been good. Honestly, this is the only exciting part of my week."

Abby chuckled. "Yeah, I hear you. How are you feeling about this, by the way?" 

There was some silence as you carefully picked out your next words. "A little anxious. But I'm proud of myself for being able to get this far away from the stadium."

"You should be proud. Overcoming your fears like this isn't easy," she said. "And just for the record, I always feel a little bit of anxiety before patrol. I think it's a good thing; it makes me more focused, and I feel like my senses are heightened." 

You nodded, clinging on to her words. "That's a nice way of looking at it. It's kind of comforting to know that Isaac's top Scar killer still gets a little nervous, too." You replied. 

Abby laughed at the statement, and there was that familiar warmth that spread through you. 

"Of course I do. I'm not fearless, you know. Aside from heights, there are plenty of other things that make me nervous." 

"Like what?" You inquired. 

Abby shifted in her seat. She looked away from you, turning her head to look at the scenery surrounding her. Immediately, your mouth soured, and you began mentally chastising yourself for making her feel uncomfortable. You were about to apologize and forget about the question all together until Abby spoke again. 

"Losing the people that I care about." She said softly. The tone of the conversation shifted from casual to something much more serious, and you looked at Abby pitifully at her confession. With the way Abby's eyes were downcast, you could tell that she was reminded of something – or someone. 

You wanted to reach out and place a comforting hand on her knee or squeeze her hand. Instead, you stayed put, opting to console her only verbally. 

"I'm sorry, Abby." Was all you could muster.

"Don't be." She replied, finally looking at you again with a barely noticeable grin on her face. 

There was a silence that settled between the both of you as the two of you continued to gaze at the scenery as Whitney drove. At some point, Whitney had called from the passenger's seat that they were almost there. 

The sound of Abby's throat clearing brought your attention back to her. 

"Hey, so… I wanted to talk to you about something." She started. 

You stiffened in your seat but you hoped that it didn't look obvious. "Shoot." You said in response. 

"It's about us." 

"Us?" You swallowed.

"Yeah. I mean, things have been weird, right?" 

Your eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. "How so?" You asked.

"Has something been on your mind lately? You know you can tell me anything, right?" 

Not this time.

“Don’t worry about me, Abs.” You chuckled nervously. You threw her a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes to ease her worrying.

Abby sighed. "But you’ve been so quiet these past few days. I really miss-”

"We have arrived!" Whitney yelled from the driver's seat after finding a place to park. Abby was immediately getting off of the truck, and you honestly wanted to forget all about patrol and continue the conversation you were having with her. But you knew what was the priority right now, and so you brushed off Abby's words, focusing on the task at hand.

The four of you exited the truck and began making your way toward a gas station. 

"Alright. Let's check for supplies." Whitney said, leading the way toward the entrance of the small store. She opened the door, her weapon at the ready, looking in all sorts of directions to make sure it was clear. She stepped aside to make room for you and Abby when she deemed it was safe. 

While Alice kept watch like the good girl she was, the three of you silently put whatever you could fit in your bags in terms of food and any other items that might be deemed useful. You managed to scavenge some good items, and you were amazed at just how many worthwhile supplies had been left behind. 

Everything was awfully quiet, almost too quiet. But you weren’t complaining.

You took a small break from scavenging when your eyes landed on a display of sunglasses. There were only a few on the rack, and many of them had broken lenses, but then you saw a pair of pink cat-eye glasses that looked practically untouched. You giggled in amusement, taking the glasses and trying them on just for the hell of it. 

There was a small mirror next to the rack, and when you stole a glance at your reflection, your quiet snickering turned into a louder, sharper laugh that you couldn't contain. Abby, upon hearing the sound, stopped browsing the aisle she was roaming in and went to go find you, only to smile at you fondly when she finally saw what you were up to.

For several minutes, you were pulling silly faces in the mirror, and even with something as small as a pair of funny looking glasses, you found yourself completely entertained.

You heard Abby walking up to you, so you whipped your head around to look at her. 

"How do I look?" You asked her, striking an absolutely ridiculous pose. You may have been hearing things, but you thought that you even heard Whitney chuckling from wherever she was in the store. 

Abby could only shake her head at your antics, but she did give you an answer. 

"Those really suit you." She replied. 

"Why, thank you. I think the hot pink goes really well with the tan of my cargo pants." You said, jokingly. 

Satisfied with your little fashion show, you put the glasses back where you found them. Abby was still standing next to you, her amused smile never leaving her face. Her expression was something you'd never seen her sport. Her gaze was soft as she looked upon you with eyes full of complete admiration, and you found yourself being locked in place, as if in a trance, returning the eye contact. 

You cleared your throat. "Did… did you want to try them on?" You asked. Abby shook her head, laughing to herself quietly. 

"I know these aren't really your style but… I don't know, I think you could rock them. Please?" You pleaded, drawing out the "e" in the word.

"You just want to laugh at me." Abby responded through a fit of giggles. 

"Nope, I swear I won't laugh." You said, shaking your head vehemently. But the smile tugging at the corners of your lips revealed your true intentions. 

Abby reluctantly agreed.

"Will you put them on for me?" She asked. Nodding excitedly, you picked up the glasses again and gestured for her to come closer to you. 

"Come here." You said. Abby did just that, standing directly in front of you. You swore you could feel her breath fanning across your face from the proximity.

Just as you were about to place the glasses on Abby's face, you heard a short and sharp whistle pierce the air. 

You and Abby froze, and you immediately dropped the glasses, removing your pistol from its holster. Abby did the same thing, recognizing that sound instantly. 

"I'm not the only one who heard that, right?" Whitney asked as she rounded the corner from one the aisles. 

"Definitely not the only one. We've got Scars in the area." Abby confirmed. You felt every hair on your body stand on edge. You saw Abby, Whitney, and Alice take cover, so you followed suit, hiding behind the counter where the now useless cash register sat. 

You closed your eyes, trying to recall all the hours of gun and defense training that you learned in this very moment, but it was all hazy. You were starting to feel the effects of fear now, your palms sweaty, causing you to constantly re-adjust your grip of the gun. You found that what Abby had mentioned earlier was definitely proving to be true – although you were terrified, you felt hyper aware of every noise and small movement in the corner of your eye. 

You heard another short whistle again, but this time, you could definitely hear the barely there footsteps of a group of Seraphites walking toward the store. 

From the counter, you slowly raised your head, trying to see how many there were. You counted three from where you were crouched. 

While you were making a mental note of how many Seraphites there were, you failed to notice Abby sneaking up next to you. You felt her touch your arm, and you flinched, but Abby was quick to cover your mouth before any sounds of surprise escaped. 

"Sorry. It's just me." She whispered, removing her hand. "There's six in total. Three inside and three outside. We're gonna try to take them out quietly." Abby spoke. You nodded, trying to cling onto her words but all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears, beating wildly.

Abby could sense the anxiety coursing through you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "This is what you're good at, right? All those moves we practiced, now you finally get to use them. You can do this." 

You shook your head. Your eyes began to sting, serving as a telltale sign that tears would soon follow. You wanted the ground to swallow you up in this moment, feelings of inadequacy bubbling within you. Abby saw the faraway look in your eyes and immediately tried to quell any negative feelings you were experiencing.

"You can do this. Repeat it." 

"Abby-" 

"Say it." She urged, but there was no harshness in her tone. 

"I… I can do this." You said, and maybe you were beginning to give into false hope, but even just saying those words out loud seemed to put you in a different mindset. Abby grinned, and with that, she scurried off, probably to go get her first kill. You could hear the sound of quiet struggling from elsewhere in the store, followed by dead silence, and you made the assumption that Whitney probably already took care of one, leaving five still standing. 

You heard another go down, this time hearing the soft thud of the body hitting the floor. You couldn't let them do all the work, no matter how badly you wanted to.

With one final exhale, you were set in motion. 

There was one checking out the storage room in the back of the store, making sure the coast was clear, you followed behind the unassuming Seraphite, who carried a pistol. 

You replaced your gun with a handy combat knife that you carried around, closing the distance between you and the Seraphite slowly but surely. It looked like it was going to be a perfect kill. 

Until you stepped on a discarded bag of chips, the sound loudly making your presence known. 

The Seraphite froze, and slowly turned around. When her eyes landed on you, she gasped, her eyes wide. 

"There's a Wolf in here!" She yelled, and in a split second, the pistol was fired, but you managed to dodge out of the way in time. The Seraphite didn't waste a second in trying to shoot again, but you were quicker than her. 

The Seraphite's alert quickly caused chaos around you; you heard gunshots in the store, and you briefly thought about Abby and Whitney and hoped that they were holding up okay. But that thought was fleeting, and instead you focused on your own safety. 

With your knife, you went straight for her stomach, the gun in her hands dropping to the ground almost immediately. You pushed her up against a wall, and her hands were trying to grip anything that she could reach. She tugged at your arms and even tried to claw at your face, but you pushed the knife in deeper, and soon enough her body began to relax. You were looking directly at her, and it was during this moment that you finally understood what it meant to truly watch the life leave someone's eyes. 

Despite the fact that this woman had tried to kill you mere seconds ago, it was a sorrowful sight, watching the realization hit her like crashing waves against the shore that she was going to die. When she completely stopped moving, and fell to the ground, blankly staring into space, it was only then that you realized the entire store had fallen silent. 

You wiped your knife clean on your cargo pants, the vibrant color of the woman's blood staining the fabric.

You calmly walked out of the storage room, letting your feet guide the way as you currently felt like you were outside of your body. You thought you heard Abby and Whitney saying something to you, but their voices fell on deaf ears. All you could think about was how you couldn’t breathe in this damn store and needed to get out.

You slammed open the doors, your knees immediately falling onto the ground below. You felt like you were suffocating, your chest tight and your stomach feeling as if it had been flipped upside down. 

There was an incessant ringing in your ears, a ringing sound so loud that it was all you could focus on. You didn’t even notice the Seraphite that was barreling toward you until it was too late.

It felt like the wind had gotten knocked out of you as the man straddled you. Whatever had possessed you to take out the Seraphite woman in the storage room was not returning. There were sirens going off in your mind, and you knew you had to do something, anything to get this man off of you otherwise you would die . You knew this, and yet, when the man had his hands around your throat, you couldn’t lift even a finger. His face, scrunched up in pure anger and hatred, was getting blurrier and blurrier, the trees around the both of you becoming large blobs of green. The man was practically crushing you with his weight, and it was then you realized the futility in fighting back.

You were lying there for what felt like an eternity, wondering which breath would be your last, until the man was suddenly thrown off of you. 

You sat up immediately, air rushing back into your lungs all at once as you you coughing uncontrollably. When you regained your vision, you saw Abby beside you, now on top of the man, beating the ever living shit out of him.

The sound that was produced when Abby’s fists met with the man’s face made you physically cringe, and it was even harder to watch, so instead, you opted for closing your eyes, relishing in the fact that you were still alive to feel the sunlight hitting your skin. 

“Abby! Abby, stop!” You heard Whitney say, and the sound of Abby’s punches eventually ceased. 

When your eyes opened again, you took in the state Abby was in. Her eyes were blown wide, her chest rising and falling in quick breaths. Both of her knuckles had been painted red, and you knew that she was probably going to wake up with pretty black and blue bruises the next morning with how forceful her punches were. 

There was a silence that fell over the three of you as you all waited for the adrenaline to leave your systems. You knew that just sitting here out in the open may not have been a good idea, but in the haze of your fatigue, you were more than grateful for those few seconds of tranquility. 

"We should go." Whitney said, grabbing Alice and heading toward the truck. You and Abby had waited for a few more moments. 

"Are you hurt?" Abby asked. 

You shook your head wordlessly, emptily staring at the ground below you.

"You're sure?" 

You nodded your head this time to confirm. You didn't trust your voice enough to speak. 

Abby nodded, standing up and offering out her hand to you. You took it, and when she pulled you up, you made the mistake of looking at her face. 

The expression on her face could not all be compared to the one she had in the store when she watched you put on those stupid glasses. No, this one was much more hardened, her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. 

She's upset at you. For being so careless. 

No, worse. She's disappointed. 

Abby always knew when you were drifting, and she placed a hand on your shoulder to pull you out whatever thoughts were brewing up in your mind. You felt your eyes stinging again. 

"Are you with me?" She asked, and it was then you realized that the two of you were standing right in front of the truck bed. You didn't realize your thoughts had halted you in your tracks. Looking away apologetically, you just nodded again, knowing that if you opened your mouth it would all come crashing down. 

Abby helped you onto the back of the truck, and when everyone was seated, Whitney drove off. The entire ride was unsettling. You could feel Abby's eyes on you the entire ride, but you couldn't return the eye contact.

When you returned to the stadium, you wasted no time in getting off of the truck and heading back toward your room. Whitney was quick to stop you, gently touching your shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked. You shrugged.

“Don’t worry about me, Whitney. I just need to be alone for a few minutes.” You replied. 

“I understand. Abby and I were gonna grab a bite to eat. You want me to get you something?” She asked. At the mention of Abby, you glanced over Whitney’s shoulder, and you saw the woman in question leaning against the truck, her worried eyes already staring you down. 

“No thanks.” You muttered quickly, tearing your eyes off of Abby, her concerned expression burned into your mind. You ran off to your room, and before Whitney could ask if you were sure, you were already long gone. 

You had taken a quick shower before heading to your room, staying in there for longer than necessary as you relentlessly tried to scrub away the build up of dirt and crime from today’s patrol. When your skin had practically been scrubbed raw, you changed into your typical loungewear, an old, slightly oversized shirt and sweatpants.

When you made it to your room, you closed and locked the door behind you, walking with hurried steps to your bed. As you relaxed atop the firmness of your mattress, it was then you realized just how exhausted you were. Patrol had drained every bit of energy from your body, and the soft cotton of your clothing as well as calming effects of a hot shower was only adding to your tiredness. You didn’t even try to fight it when you felt your eyelids getting heavy…

But once your eyes closed, you didn’t see darkness. Instead, you saw the Seraphite woman’s face. You saw her eyes and the way they slowly took on that cold, blank stare. You saw the man that had attempted to strangle you and the pure, murderous intent in his eyes as he tried to take your life.

You shook your head as if that would dispel the images that came to your mind, eyebrows furrowing as your body began reacting on its own. You could feel the intensity of your rapidly beating heart, perspiration coating your skin, as if you were back at the convenience store and not in the comfort of your own room. 

Your brain was replaying the events at the convenience store today, except it was slightly different. The man was on top of you, strangling you, but this time, Abby wasn’t there. Nor Whitney. Not even Alice. You were all alone as the man on top of you kept you pinned to the ground. The world around you was hazy as your vision began to weaken. The ringing in your ears was back and stronger than ever before; it was deafening.

Right before your consciousness left you, you saw another person standing above the man. It was the woman you had stabbed. The knife was still plunged in her stomach, but she was clearly alive and standing. She wore a smile that was far too wide and had far too many teeth on display. 

You shot up in bed, letting out a loud shriek.

You heard pounding on your door.

“___? What’s going on? Please, open the door!”

You could recognize that voice anywhere.

You stood up, slowly and on shaky legs to open the door. Abby was standing on the other side, clutching a burrito in her hands, her eyes wide. Her hair was down, dressed in another one of her tattered tanks and sweatpants.

“Please tell me you're okay.” She said urgently.

Just from Abby’s presence alone, you felt like you could relax. Like you were truly safe.

“Yeah… I’m fine,” I’m fine now that you’re here . “It was just a bad dream.” You replied, and neither one of you could deny the clear shakiness in your voice. Abby’s gaze softened immediately, and she wasted no time in wrapping her arms around you, holding you close against her rigid body. Your arms, almost instinctively, snaked around her back, and you buried your face in one of her broad shoulders. You could tell she had just washed up as well, the scent of pine completely engulfing you. She was still standing in the doorway, and you had no doubt that some people were walking by and watching all of this go down, but in the moment you couldn’t care less. 

You were clinging to Abby for a bit longer than what would be considered normal, and once you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment, you pulled away. Abby’s hands lingered around your waist for a fraction of a second but to you, it felt like they were there for an eternity, and when she removed them you swore you could feel the ghost of her touch.

Abby awkwardly glanced at the burrito in her hands, oblivious to your panicking. “I, um… brought you this, because it’s been a couple of hours and you haven’t eaten anything yet, so…” She said, holding it out to you.

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “Thank you.” You said, accepting it, even though you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment; but you were appreciative nonetheless.

“No problem.” Abby responded. “Can I… come in?”

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, of course.” You said, stepping aside. Abby returned the smile, doing just that, and you shut the door again once she was inside. 

She sat comfortably atop your bed, and you joined her, sitting close next to her, your leg brushing against hers. You set the still wrapped up burrito on your bedside table where you knew it would grow cold. 

“I, um,” Abby began. “I wanted to check on you, too. I couldn’t stop thinking about you today.” 

You froze, not sure how to react to the fact that Abby just admitted to you she was thinking about you. You knew you had to say something, though, or else Abby would start getting worried.

“Oh… really?” You asked, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so out of it. 

“Yeah. I saw you storm off earlier when talking to Whitney. I wanted to follow you but I knew you probably wanted space. The whole time I was eating, though, I was just… really hoping you were alright.”

Your heart warmed at Abby’s words. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” You said. Abby shook her head fervently.

“No, it’s okay, I was just in my own head. How are you feeling right now, anyway?”

You paused to deeply consider your response. You could’ve easily just told her that you were doing fine, to rid Abby of any concern over you; but she was always truthful with you, so it would only be right to be truthful with her. She always knew the best ways to comfort you, anyway, and you knew she would never judge you for anything. In the relatively short time that you’ve gotten to know her, that was one thing she made clear to you from the beginning.

“I’m still a little… shaken by what happened today. That’s what my dream was about, actually.” You started, speaking softly. 

“Oh.” Abby said quietly. “I totally understand. Patrol today was scary for everyone involved.” 

You shook your head. “Yeah, but… I can’t help but think it’s all my fault…”

Abby looked at you quizzically. “What’s all your fault?”

“I stepped on a fucking bag of chips,” you laughed, but it was completely humorless. “And then after I killed that woman, I just ran out. It was stupid of me. I’m sure I scared the shit out of you and Whitney.” 

Abby remained silent.

“And of course, you had to save me. You literally trained me, taught me everything I needed to know and I still got myself in that situation. I just feel like I don’t belong here. What good am I to anybody if I can’t… If I can’t…” 

The tremor in your voice returned, and Abby was quick to get off the bed and kneel in front of you, cradling your face with her large hands.

“Hey. Look at me. Please.” She said softly.

It took you several long seconds, but eventually you met her eyes. 

“You do belong here. I don’t want you thinking otherwise for so much as a second. Every WLF in this stadium brings something to table and you are no different.”

“But Abby, I–”

“Please, listen to me.” Abby interjected. You didn’t say anything else and let her continue.

“It was your very first patrol. People make mistakes. You were frozen in fear, and that’s okay . That’s why we go in groups in the first place, so when another person gets themselves into trouble, someone else is there to help. You are alive and breathing and that is what’s most important, right?”

You nodded.

Abby removed her hands from your face, opting to hold your hands instead. “You are stronger than you know. You conquered your biggest fear of leaving the stadium, and you did well for your first patrol. You should be proud of yourself. I am definitely proud of you.”

You looked at Abby with surprise all over your face. “So you’re not… disappointed?”

Abby released an incredulous laugh. “Oh my god, no. Never.” 

You smiled. It was a wide smile, one that stretched from ear to ear. Abby felt herself instantly mimicking the expression. 

“I’m so glad I have you around,” you said. Abby chuckled.

“I got you. Always.”

As the two of you stared at each other, there was a blanket of silence that fell over the both of you. Both of your faces were mere inches apart, and suddenly the eye contact was making you feel shy. 

Now is your chance. 

You might not get another opportunity like this.

You ignored the voices in your head.

“Well, um… It’s getting late. I’m sure you have stuff to do tomorrow morning.” You said, your heart beating so fast you thought it would pop straight out of your chest. Abby stood up, and you could’ve sworn you saw her frown for half a second. But your mind was probably playing tricks on you. Right?

“Yeah… No doubt Isaac will have something for me to do.” Abby said. She began walking toward the door. You already missed her and she hadn’t even left yet.

She stood in front of the door, hand resting on the doorknob. She turned to you. 

“Well… goodnight.” She said.

“Yeah. Goodnight.” You replied stiffly.

Abby opened the door. But before she could even put one foot outside, you stopped her in her tracks.

“Actually, wait.” You said, standing up abruptly.

Abby didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

You sighed. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears now and your palms felt clammy.

“I… shit. I didn’t prepare for this.” You said, laughing out loud. Abby found herself grinning but she was still visibly confused.

“We haven’t known each other for that long. But honestly it feels like I’ve known you my entire life.” You began. Slowly, Abby closed the door, leaning against it as she listened to you.

“I don’t even know what I would do without you. I’m just… so grateful for you, and… fuck…”

You went back and forth in your mind, contemplating your next words carefully. Months of friendship was on the line, and what you wanted to say next had the potential of throwing it all down the drain. But it was a risk you were willing to take.

“I love you.” You confessed. “And not in the– the platonic way. I… shit… I’m sorry if that was too forward but–”

Abby said your name softly, stopping your rambling. You stood there, nervously waiting for rejection.

But rejection isn’t what you got.

“I love you, too. So much.”

You could’ve fainted. “Really? Abby Anderson, are you messing with me?” You said, a smile lighting up your face.

“I am dead serious. I am so fucking glad you said something or else I was going to go crazy.” Abby laughed.

You found yourself laughing too, completely dumbfounded. “My god… we both felt this way for so long and neither of us had a clue. What the hell.” There were tears in your eyes now, but not the sad kind.

When you had calmed down, wiping the wetness from your face, you spoke again. “So, what now?” You asked.

With a smirk on her face, Abby walked over to you, placing her hands on your waist. You were starting to feel like they belonged there.

“There’s something that I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Can I show you?”

You already knew what Abby was asking, nodding fervently. “Holy shit. Yes. Please.” You replied.

Abby closed the small distance between the two of you, her lips connecting with yours gently. The both of you stayed like that for several moments, Abby being the first one to pull away. She rested her forehead against yours.

Kissing her is exactly what you thought it would be. It almost felt magical – it was like her lips had put a spell on you, a spell that made you want to continue kissing her forever. It was as if you were floating, electricity running through your veins.

“Do it again.” You whispered softly. 

Abby didn’t need you to repeat yourself, capturing your lips in yet another passionate kiss. The second one was much more intense, your hands tangled in Abby’s hair as the both of you slowly waddled over to the bed.

Abby laid down first, allowing you to settle on top of her, your lips never staying apart for more than a couple of seconds. You could barely breathe but you couldn’t get enough. In a frenzy of lips, tongue, and hands everywhere, neither of you heard the sound of the door opening until it was too late.

“Hey, how’re you– oh shit!”

The sound of Whitney’s voice had the two of you breaking apart immediately. You scrambled off of Abby, straightening out your clothes and wiping away the wetness that coated your lips. Abby sat up, but instead of being mortified, she kept that smirk on her face, clearly amused by the situation.

“Whitney– Jesus Christ, have you ever heard of knocking?” You exclaimed. Whitney doubled over in laughter, clearly finding joy in your suffering.

“I’m so sorry! I was distracted!” She said, holding up her PS Vita that you just now noticed she was holding.

“You and those goddamn games,” You muttered under your breath.

“Well, I see you two finally came around. God, I can’t wait to rub this in Nora’s face.”

“What?” You said, visibly confused.

“Oh, me and Nora had a bet going. Now she has to do my dishes for a week straight.” Whitney said. Your jaw dropped.

“A bet? Whitney, I can’t believe you.” You said through a fit of chuckles, not being able to suppress your own laughter either.

“I’m not even surprised.” Abby chimed in.

Whitney crossed her arms, leaning against the door. “Okay, so. Tell me everything. Who confessed first? Who kissed who first?” She asked. You rolled your eyes.

“I can give you the details later.” You said.

Whitney sighed, but she didn’t bother trying to pull the information out of you. 

“Fine.” She said, walking over to her bed and plopping down atop the sheets, her eyes returning to the PS Vita screen. 

You and Abby stood there awkwardly. Whitney glanced at the two of you, and then gasped.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I should give you guys privacy, huh? Do you want me to go?”

You immediately shook your head. “What? Whitney, no. I’m not kicking you out of our room-”

“You can stay in mine.” Abby interrupted. You whipped your head around to look at her.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Manny is hanging out with some woman tonight, so it’s just me.” 

“Okay, then.” You said, smiling happily. Abby looked back at you with pure adoration in her gaze, leaning in to kiss you again. And again. And again.

“Okay. Ew. Leave.”

You chuckled at Whitney’s disgust. “Goodnight, Whitney.” You said, grabbing Abby’s hand and going toward the door.

Whitney decided to say one last thing before the both of you left.

“Remember. We have thin walls around here. So don’t be too loud-”

“Oh my god, shut up.” You cut her off before she could even finish her sentence, leaving the room. You could just faintly hear Whitney’s breathy laugh as you closed the door.

“She’s so annoying.” You muttered, but there was nothing but fondness in your tone.

“I just can’t believe that she knew we were into each other before either of us realized it.” Abby said. The two of you began walking down the hall to her room, hands clasped together and arms swinging slightly as you both walked.

Abby’s words had reminded you of an earlier conversation with Whitney. “Holy shit. She literally told me.”

“Told you what?” She asked.

“Before we went out on patrol, she… she told me you felt the same way. I thought she was crazy so I asked her how she knew, and she just said ‘I see things’ or something like that. You know, all cryptic and shit. But I guess she really does see things.”

Abby shook her head, chuckling at Whitney’s antics. “Wow. Again, I really can’t say I’m surprised.”

Eventually, you two made it to Abby’s room, and you both wasted no time in getting in bed together, holding each other close. It was a small bed, just like yours, definitely not made for two people, but you made it work. You were practically on top of Abby in order to fit, but it was clear she didn’t mind it one bit.

You had one leg over her midsection while one of Abby’s hands stroked your back calmly and gently. You could die happy in this position. 

The stadium wasn’t your home. Abby was.

— epilouge —

“Hey, Bri,” You greeted, getting ready to help her wash some clothes for today. As you began scrubbing the clothes over the washboard, you started humming a random tune, a light smile decorating your face.

“You’re in a good mood.” Bri noted. 

“Aren’t I usually in a good mood?” You asked, chuckling at nothing in particular.

“I mean, I guess, but… you just seem extra lively today.”

From where you were in the bleachers, you looked out and saw Abby walking down the stairs, heading out to do patrol. She knew you were washing clothes today, and she turned her head to look at you, a killer smirk resting on her face. She winked.

“Yeah… I guess I am.” You replied, the fondness in your eyes clear as day.

[leafnighthybridwolfsbane]

Rainwing Headcanons

Here are the Rainwings now! Used a different brush this time 'round. I have been told this reminded someone of fruit punch and genuinely I can't disagree with that statement. Maybe when I'm done with all of them I'll post them as adopts. Should I do a poll for it?

Tribe Headcanons

Rainwing horns are branched like trees and antlers for better camouflage in the trees.

Looking at them from the front, their noses look like a pierced heart.

They hang from trees like bats when sleeping at night, causing them to sleep similarly to whales and dolphins so they don't drop to the ground on their heads.

Their fangs are retractable. Though, they have a recessive trait where the fangs stick out of their snouts.

They have an "Iguana" frill on their neck that aids in courtship.

This frill is the first place on the body to start shifting colors, making it the easiest to control the color shifting.

Their long limbs aid in reaching into tight spaces.

The spikes along the spine are actually small feathers that start at the base of the skull where the spine attaches to the skull. These feathers can have different shapes at the end of the tail, including "bald".

The hooked wing thumb helps hang onto trees and are surprisingly very strong

Their ears are naturally "feathery"/"flowery" from internal eugenics as the tribe found them extremely attractive at one point. Some still do, but it's not like it once was.

Their wings are mostly meant for gliding. They can fly long distances in small bursts, but they're meant for short travel times.

The upper part of the wing matches the spine scales and the patterns that are on the body.

The underside of the wing matches the frill colors.

Complicated patterns that resemble animals are common. Those with more simplistic designs across their scales are considered desirable due to it.

Rainwings are the smallest out of all the Pyrrhian tribes. They are bigger than all of the Pantalan tribes, though outliers do exist, but this is just the normal size difference.

When Rainwings find a partner, or partners, one part of their coloration to their scales tend to take on a color of the partner's scales when both are in love. This process is a bit harder to detect when dragon of another tribe is in the relationship.

A Rainwings' base colors are primarily based on their emotions within their childhood. These colors can change depending on how severe an experience was.

Rainwings are the most emotionally intelligent tribe. It's a lot easier with others of their own tribes, but they get a sort of "vibe check" sense with other dragons.

Lore Headcanons

Ancient Rainwing scrolls tend to say their origins my have been allwings from before the scorching. This is in a constant debate until around the time the Rainwings had changed their customs. Only very recently have the debates be resurfaced when the scrolls were found. Though, they're not as heated.

Old superstition once stated that the more prongs a Rainwing has on their horns, the more partners they'd have. The main horn being the Rainwing in question, and having a minimum of one prong, meaning one partner. The superstitions have been proven false on multiple occasions. Some still believe them though.

Some Rainwings don't like intertribal relationships because they don't know if the other dragon loves the Rainwing back due to their lack of color shifting. This worry is normally eased if they were jewelry that is the same color as the scales were before they had changed colors.

If a Rainwing has a patterning of a certain animal, it's considered murder of another if the Rainwing were to kill the animal they share a pattern with. This doesn't mean they can't eat it though. As long as another dragon kills it.

Much like Seawings, one of the Rainwings primary exports is their art. Rainwings are arguably better artists than Seawings, though the two tribes are close with that aspect.

As the Rainwings helped the Nightwings, it was a culture shock for them. They started to become acutely aware over the years the emotions of another dragon by their tone, facial expressions, and body language. Some believe this was a lost ability of theirs that they once had in the past.

Drawing Inspirations

Snakes and the Cornish Rex are inspirations for the body structure.

Patterning can come from any jungle animal.

They're like color changing sparkledogs in dragon form. So jewelry isn't really needed, but it makes them stand out even more.

Monochromatic patterns means something really wrong with the Rainwing. Be it traumatic, or like Chameleon with his physical disability.

Wing of Fire Headcanon List

Seawings

Sandwings

Skywings

Icewings

Mudwings

Leafwings

Hivewings

Silkwings

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC interaction

Thanks to @imsoveryveryconfusedatlife here and @orphanheirs here!

Rules: describe your OC and how they'd interact with other people's OCs!

Ling's OC:

Melikora is a demigod, cosmic entity thing turned human chosen one. She has way too many eyes, weirdly sharp teeth as well as a good eye for detail. She’s a curious, impulsive soul who has a stronger constitution than most. She enjoys eating things she’s not suppose to and getting into places she’s not meant to be, much to the chagrin of everyone around her. She’s bubbly and ditzy but still has a good sense of people. Despite her ditz, she loves to expand her knowledge, helping her friend who is a studies ti (sorcery) with their experiments. Her own magical abilities are murky and undefined because she simply doesn’t need to use it that much and she much prefers training her charisma and charm. She doesn’t realise it yet, but she’s piled on far too much on her plate and she’s about 5 steps away from a mental breakdown but, for now, she feels ready to take on the world. 

Orphan's OC:

Tristan is the youngest child of a fabulously wealthy country gentleman in England in the early 19th century. He is the spoiled brat you would expect. 12 years old at the time of the main plot, he's spent his childhood so far sequestered indoors due to chronic medical issues. He's intellectually precocious and knows a lot about a wide variety of academic subjects, but he's particularly passionate about the occult and fancies himself a black magician. He'd previously been obsessed with science, then got frustrated with the limitations it had in the time period and turned to magic. He also loves literature, art, music, and fashion. He's self-centered and arrogant and can be quite cruel. He tends to be duplicitous in the way he acts towards others vs his intentions, and insolent towards adults/authority figures. The lack of affection and socialization in his formative years has made him see others as objects, a means to an end. But he's also curious, creative, and fun loving. If he finds you fascinating or shares your interests, you might get genuine conversation from him- though he might act insufferably entitled to know everything about you/everything you know. He's extremely determined to get what he wants. He recently summoned a demon to help him run away from home, and now he's on his own. (Well..the demon is..still there..) Free at last! (Except for the..pact..) Tristan's a sickly pale and frail looking kid, with blue eyes and dark hair.

My OC:

Rose is a twelve-year-old girl with dimensiokinesis, or dimension manipulation, though she mainly can just sense dimensions as she's working on the rest. Her mother has made her insecure about her weight and other parts of her appearance, but the one thing that makes her feel good is her art, outfits, and fashion designs, which she is very, very proud of. Though her personality has been repressed, Rose is actually very compassionate, friendly, and spontaneous. She doesn't let her emotions show, but she feels very deeply and strongly. Rose does like fun and excitement, she just hasn't had much of a chance to follow her impulses. Despite being more of an introvert, if her friend (and unrequited crush) Lexi is not there, she'll be the one at the lead making all the introductions and talking to others. She believes she can handle a lot more stress than she can, so she doesn't see the problem in, well, her problems stacking up. She likes doing things her way and defying anything that holds her back, though she is more patient despite going on impulse sometimes. It's not uncommon for others to see her as lazy or tell her she needs to do better at certain things. She's reluctant to accept the affection she craves, but when she opens up she's incredibly well-loved and charming. She doesn't stay angry and doesn't like arguing, even if she explodes when she does.

Rose and Melikora:

I think Rose would be intrigued by the way Melikora looks. Curious and inspired. Her next dress design will probably be inspired by Melikora. She would struggle to comprehend Melikora being a cosmic entity and all, but I think she'd like Melikora's impulsiveness. Rose can also handle the bubbly personality given her relationship with Lexi and even Alex. Rose also has powers that she doesn't know the full scope of, so that's a point of relatability. Rose is also close to a mental breakdown from all the stress she's under. I think they'd get along even if it's not healthy for them.

Rose and Tristan:

Rose would hate Tristan. They're the same age, which will just make this your standard junior high rivalry, but what would piss Rose off more is his brattiness and spoiled nature. He also seems like the kind of person to explain art to her as if she's four years old when she's an artist herself and wants to pursue design, but there's a chance they could bond over shared interests. I don't think Rose would like him even then, though, even if Tristan does want to know more about her designs, especially if "determined to get what he wants" includes not stopping even when she's asked. Maybe the shared interests will help, who knows? Doubt it'll last any more than a few minutes.

Ok I'll tag @orphanheirs @atelierwriting @awritingcaitlin @writeintrees @sunset-a-story to see how y'all's OCs pair with Rose!

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

[bulbabutt]

god i just went through my own art tag since like... ever doing the turtles thing on here and i just find it so funny that every thing ive done has essentially started as "this will be funny i hope people laugh" and then it slowly grows more emotional depth and then i end up PUNCHING u in the gut w feels IVE LITERALLY DONE THIS MULTIPLE TIMES.......

haha what if rise leo got out funnied by 87 raph WOMP HES CRYING IN OTHER LEOS ARMS NOW

haha what if rise donnie tries to kill 87 donnie WOMP NEITHER OF THEM GET ENOUGH PRAISE AND BOND OVER IT

haha what if the 03 turtles watch star trek WOMP GET WORM GENDER EUPHORIA FUCKHEADS

which isnt me trying to toot my own horn or anything, i just really have appreciated the encouragement over the past uh. year and a half? that everyone has given me? like theres been ups and downs, but i gained a lot of confidence and felt like trying new things and being more creative. so many of the silly things ive enjoyed doing to make you laugh have turned into very genuine moments of joy and tears. like i genuinely have appreciated everybody who's ever looked at my work and said something nice idk WHAT i would be doing without that. like idk where else i would ever have felt comfortable enough to turn something like "what if the turtles watched star trek" into "mikey comes out as genderfluid" without people being so fucking nice and willing to hear me out and let me be sincere.

i always feel like i havent actually done that much art, but then i look back and im like whoa. wait thats actually a lot. and comics? strips and otherwise? ive never done that before! it just happened cuz people started being kind about my ideas and now ive gotten so much better! ive mentioned this before, but like i hadnt done art in....years. we're talkin 5 year gap at least. not for lack of trying. but honestly i often feel very dejected about my abilities and compare my work to others often. feel too old to be as amateur as i am. but genuinely, its meant a lot to just spread joy about something i like regardless of how good or bad i ever think i am at it. truly theres just a level of sincere kindness to things i create now that idk if i ever would have found without how nice and open people are.

bleh, idk where that all came from i guess just wanna say like ay im proud of me and im proud of you, lets all keep being kind to each other it makes us better ❤️

[w33nies]

Qué Maravilla CH.4 - 'Blood in the Water'

previous chapter

next chapter

Miguel O'hara x SpiderFemReader rating: E for Everyone bby warnings: none? lots of angst tbh summary: everyone knows where Miles is. Now it's a matter of who will find him first . art is not mine!!!! @shuploc !!!

-------------- Ch.4 - Blood in the Water ----------------

Gwen Stacy found that everyone’s Spider Sense materialized differently depending on the person. Miles and Peter said theirs was like a voice in the back of head, a loud whisper that would urge them to “look out”, “duck”, or tell them when a civilian was in need of saving. You and Jess described it as more of an out of body experience. Kinda like a third eye aerial view or seeing yourself through a video game. But for her it was a rhythm. It was only natural since she saw her entire life through rhythm. It was the only way she could explain the world around her. She could find rhythm in anything. In the middle of a high-stakes battle with an enemy or in the hustle and bustle of Chelsea, New York. She could find it in the little things like the monotony of the subway, the crackling of a fireplace, the humming of a refrigerator, or the whirring of the fan overhead. She could even find rhythm lying in her bed at 2am after a long day's work of being spider woman and the open window was ushering in the whistling breeze while there was a T.V playing in the other room. With her stolen cop radio interjecting with its constant updates and the occasional car whizzing down the street, all while she can hear her dad loudly snoring in the living room. All these things on their own made a distinct rhythm and together they played an even stronger melody. All like their own individual instrument that would all work together to create a symphony. A symphony she could identify in anything and through that she could capture a feeling. That feeling was what she meant when she said ‘the rhythm’. 

Her spider sense specifically felt like a really bad rhythm. Not bad in the sense of being off beat but bad in an unnerving way. Like the feeling of sitting in a doctor's office awaiting a diagnosis, seeing a shark fin while swimming in the water or staring down the barrel of a gun with your father on the other end. No matter how hard she tried, she could never put it into words. A bad rhythm was just that, it made you feel… bad. 

It wasn’t all doom and gloom however, just like bad rhythms there were also good rhythms. As you could guess, good rhythms entail anything that gives off a positive feeling like a fun day at the beach, the applause after finishing a complicated gymnastics routine, or seeing a friend you thought you’d never see again. She rarely felt a good rhythm however, it’s why she opted to play the drums. She always wanted to emulate the rhythm she wanted to feel, the rhythm she wanted others to feel. And she was good at it. She found she could change the rhythm of a room with just a single drum solo, never failing to shift her fathers mood from despondent to cherry with a single beat. She could even change the rhythm of an entire anxious classroom or a rowdy cafeteria with a simple tapping of her pencil or the drumming of her fingers. She used to find joy in shifting the rhythm. That was until she lost her best friend Peter, things seemed to spiral after that. That was until the last time she played in her band. She got so emotional playing the drums that her, for lack of a better word, damaged rhythm bled through the music and she got kicked out. I guess when her life changed so did its rhythm. So did her’s. 

She felt the bad rhythm standing upside down on the ceiling of Miles Morale’s childhood bedroom. It crept up on her like a poison slowly reaching all the vital points of her body. This was different, it was especially awful. Spider Sense usually urges you to take action, but this one locked her in place. For a split second she was paralyzed with dread and through that split second she gathered everything she needed to know. ‘He’s in the wrong universe.’

She dropped from the ceiling then carefully made her way to the door. Through the slim opening she can hear his parents' worried conversation. ‘I should talk to them, tell them how much he cares.’  She’s about to exit when she catches her reflection in the full body mirror. Her spider suit. I can’t let them see me like this. She scans the room until her eyes fall on Miles’s jacket. She shoots a web at the coat and quickly shrugs it on. ‘This will have to do for now, she thinks while examining herself in the mirror.  She fiddles with the zipper for a second, ‘I’ll get this back to you myself Miles. I promise.’ She takes a deep breath and zips up the jacket before stepping outside to face his parents. 

                                    -        -        -  

Jessica Drew sat outside Miles Morales apartment on her motorcycle. By order of Miguel, she was stationed here to keep an eye out for the boy. She’d figured it’d be an open and shut case. He’d obviously go see his parents if it was his father he was so worried about, it was only a matter of time before he’d show. She had the place surrounded with movement trackers, ready to alert her at a moment's notice of anyone who’d entered and exited the entire building. Yet here she stood for what felt like hours without as much as a pigeon appearing on her radar. She bit her cheek and took another lap around the block, intensely scanning her surroundings and constantly checking her tracking devices. Nothing. Something was off. Very off. 

It wasn’t until the middle of her patrol when she finally received an alert. Her devices showed someone scaling the side of the building towards Morales's residence. ‘It’s not like anyone can climb walls,’ she thought to herself, ‘There’s only one person this could be.’  In one fell swoop she smoothly shifted her bike to 5th gear and sharply turned around, barelling full speed  before skidding to a halt in front of the apartment. She planted her feet on the floor, looking up at the building with her mouth agape. There was a figure hovering next to the window, but it wasn’t Miles. 

She watched as her protegee opened the window before entering the room.  She had watched Layla disable the settings of her holowatch herself. Did she manage to override it? Did she somehow get her hands on another watch? She bit her lip in frustration. Perhaps she had mentored her a little too well. 

Jessica quickly deployed one of her tracking devices through the open window and turned on the live camera feature. A small projection of the conversation taking place in the house emitted from her watch. 

“I’m going to find him,” the girl said with her back to the two figures, “I don’t know where exactly, but I know where to start.” She moves towards the door before pausing, “One thing I learned from Miles, It’s all possible…He loves you more than you could ever imagine…I’ve seen it.” 

She turns off the watch, instead turning her attention to the roof. In the next instant, the entire building was engulfed in a ripple of everchanging dimensional styles. At the center, a glowing orange doorway surrounded by a kaleidoscope of punk rock.  A portal, no doubt and the work of Hobie Brown no less. Jessica sat upright on her motorcycle with her arms crossed, mindlessly tapping her finger on her forearm.  

It didn’t take long for her to put two and two together. ‘He’s on Earth-42.’ They’d been looking in the wrong place the entire time. She should tell Miguel. She looked over at the holowatch residing on her wrist and found herself doing something she hadn’t in a long time, she hesitated. 

When Miguel sent Gwen home she had called her a liability because of her attachment to Miles. That was still true, well partially. She had been neglecting the fact that Gwen wasn’t just a liability because of the boy, she was a liability because of her. In this moment she found she cared about her more than she realized, more than she cared to let herself admit. 

“You never got too close to anyone?” she remembered the girl asking her in hopes for another chance to right her wrong with the Spot.

“I did.” she admitted to her, “But then I got over it.”

She rubbed her hand over her round stomach. “Damn kids,” she said softly to herself. She finally understood the affection Peter held for Miles. Maybe she would adopt her when this was all over. If it was even possible to adopt a child from another dimension,  “You better not make me soft like this,” she spoke, pointing towards her pregnant belly. 

She would tell Miguel, she decided, later. ‘You got one hour Gwen Stacy,’ she said to herself with a death grip on her forearms. ‘After that you cope with whatever comes next and I can’t help you.’ She set a timer on her holowatch before revving her bike and taking off into the night. 

                             -        -        -  

You land face first onto Miguel’s torso in a nondescript alleyway. The sudden impact with the pavement earned a groan from the both of you. You both lift your faces up at the same time, freezing the second you make eye contact with one another. His hands are still on your waist, and yours on his chest. You quickly scramble to your feet as you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, he follows suit. 

You brush yourself off as you scan your surroundings. “We made it…”, you say meekly, trying to rouse any positive emotion or acknowledgement from Miguel, however, his face sits in its titular frown, unamused. 

“Yay?,” you weakly add, his expression remains unfazed, instead he just sighs and begins climbing the wall to gain a better vantage point, “You’re impossible you know that?” 

“Me? How?”

“Because you don’t listen.” 

“I listen…” you state defensively before reassessing your track record “... well, like 90% of the time, which is still an A.”

  He removes one hand from the wall, leaving the other digging firmly into the brick so he can turn to face you below him, “Almost doesn’t count. This is why I wanted you to stay home.” 

“Where I’m from they say almost counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” you informed him with a smug smile. 

“Again, impossible.” Miguel resumes climbing until he reaches the top of the wall, then he pulls himself up the edge with ease. He begins to walk towards the view before stopping in his tracks, turning his head to the side until he sees you appear above the ledge. Only then does he face forwards and keep toward the skyline.  

You stop just behind him watching his back as he takes in the city view. Before you can do the same, you feel your watch silently buzz against your wrist. You look down at the device to see a message from Gwen to the rest of the renegades: 'He's in the wrong universe. Earth-42. Go immediately. Make sure you aren’t followed.’

“Fuuuck.”

“Fuck is right,” Miguel responds. You quickly hide your hand behind your back, fortunately Miguel is still focused on the city, “All these people without a hero. Organized crime here is exponentially high” 

“Yeah…It looks scary out there.” You speak distractedly, never taking your eyes off the message you're hastily crafting. ‘Already here. Looking for Miles. Miguel is here too.’

Perhaps you should’ve taken the time to elaborate more. Within the next instant you’re bombarded with an influx of panicked messages flooding your watch. Peter, Gwen, Pavitr and Porker specifically send one frantic message after another. The constant buzzing catches Miguel's attention.

“You alright?” Miguel questions you skeptically eyeing your holowatch.

You swiftly move to hide your hand behind your back once more, “Yep all good, ” you spit out, doing your best to put on a convincing smile. As he looks you up you can’t tell if that feeling in your stomach is because you’re worried or embarrassed. Probably both. Luckily for you, he returns his attention to the skyline, “This city is large, he could be anywhere. Our best bet is to start with his residence, but it’s also possible that he’s already realized he's in the wrong dimension and is on the lookout for the Alchemex collider…” 

You do your best to multitask between listening to Miguel's rambling and calming your comrades. “So we should split up?” You suggest hopefully while attempting to type, ‘CALM DOWN. He’s with me. We found out at the same time.’ 

He turns around abruptly. You halt your typing hand midair over your watch. He eyes you suspiciously, “No. I can’t trust you to go out on your own.”

“Ouch,” You walk past him, this time with your back to him so you can send over your coordinates, 'Here's our location, we’ll find Miles together. Follow us. DON’T LET HIM SEE YOU.’ 

“Unless you promise to detain him until the canon occurs, if not that then at least until I reach the two of you.”

“Mmmhmm” you hum absentmindedly, all your focus now is towards the plan you’re concocting with your friends, ‘Be our extra set of eyes. If things get dicey, back me up.’ 

A surplus of what you hope are agreeing messages flood your watch, you don’t have time to read them before Miguel startles you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan?” 

“Plan? What plan?” 

“So you weren’t listening, ” he lets out a frustrated groan before grabbing your wrist and pointing to the watch, “What are you doing, really?”

“Just…taking notes…” you stutter nervously. Just then your watch emits a message from Peter, ‘Whatever happens we’ll make it work.’

“Tomando notas mi culo,” he drops your hand and jabs a finger in your face “Why are you talking to Peter?” 

“No reason, I just-” you rack your brain for a viable excuse, “I’m- I was just checking in on him.” 

“Of course” he drops your hand with a scoff and begins to angrily pace back and forth “Of course you’re talking to Peter, now of all times. Why are you here if you aren’t going to take this seriously? What solace could you possibly find in PETER?”

“What’s wrong with Peter?”

Miguel knew better than to act the way he was right now, but he was finding he was having a harder time grappling with his emotions and succumbing to intrusive thoughts. You only saw Peter as a friend and Peter, of course, had Mary Jane. Any suggestion otherwise would probably end with you laughing in his face. But he saw the way you guys got along. Like two peas in a pod. How you guys had a similar sense of humor, the cultural references you shared between your universes, the way you would finish eachothers outlandish sentences. You guys were great friends to each other. He knew that. He also knew that you were comfortable around him, a way that you weren't with Miguel. Deep down he was always jealous of the rapport he had with you, but today, Miguel despised him for it. 

“What's wrong with Peter? What’s wrong with you? I’m right here and you-” he abruptly stops talking, his look of envy replaced with pain. In the next instant he’s hunched over holding his stomach with a groan. 

“Miguel. What the- are you okay?’ You immediately rush to his side.

“I’m fine,” he blurts out, resting his hand on the nearest wall for support. You move closer and grab a hold of his face in your hands. He’s hot to the touch and sweating bullets. “You don’t look fine.” 

“It’s just- It’s the serum. I'll have to reinject. Soon.”

“Serum? What Serum?” 

“Rapture…” A grim silence takes hold of the two of you. You knew Miguel’s origin story well. Partly because of how close you were, but also because of how unusual it was. Miguel was never bit by a spider. Before he became spiderman we worked at Alchemex, but soon quit after finding out their unethical business practices. Out of spite they injected him with Rapture, a highly addictive drug that can cause codependency for life after one use. With Alchemex being the only legal supplier they were essentially attempting to black mail him into reemployment. However, Miguel instead concocted a genetic procedure in attempts to restore his DNA. The experiment was sabotaged and Miguel was inadvertently gifted with a new genetic code. 50% man, 50% spider. The experiment also successfully rid him of his addiction to Rapture, or at least, that was what he told you…

“You’re still addicted?”

“Yes.” You stood in shock, Miguel however wore a look of shame. 

 “I didn’t want to tell anyone…” he spoke without returning your gaze, “When I’m off Rapture it makes me angry, irrational, violent. I see things that aren’t there. I- I don’t like who I am without it.” 

“Miguel, none of us would’ve ever saw you differently. I’m glad you told me,” you plant a small reassuring kiss on his nose, causing his breath to hitch, “It means you trust me a little more than you let on,” you say with a smirk.

He rested his forehead against yours and whispered softly, “Thank you cariño.”

“Anytime O’hara.” You stood like that briefly before you finally let go. The both of you turn to face the city once more “So are you always off your serum or…?” 

He chuckles and looks down at you with a smirk, “You’re not funny.”

“Really because Porker told me the other day that I-”

You’re cut off by the sound of distant crash and the blaring of several car alarms . You both turn towards the source of the sound and see a cloud of dust in the distance with a small group of civilians running away from its center. Debris from the explosion litters the area for what seems like miles. 

“I didn’t just hallucinate that, did I?”

“No sir you did not.”

“At least we know where to start.”

“Way ahead of you.”

You make a break towards the explosion then pause when you don’t sense him behind you. You turn around and find him staring off into space with an uneasy look on his face, leaning against the same wall and once again holding his stomach. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure you don’t need to go back?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” he stands up “Just got a little light headed. 

“I’ll go with you if that’s-”“-It’s fine. Don’t worry about me. I can do this,” he quickly recomposes himself, shaking out each of his limbs “Let's just go.” Before you can interrupt he jumps off the side of the building and makes his way to the scene of the crime. You quickly take off after him, not wanting to get left behind. ‘This man is as stubborn as they come’ you think to yourself, swinging from structure to structure, ‘I just hope he doesn’t push himself too far.’

had to use google translate for the spanish in this chapter so if it's hot dookey plz let me know thanks

[nobodysdaydreams]

I FINISHED SEASON 1 OF WOLF359 AND THIS IS NOT OKAY (Reaction to Episodes 11-13, plus mini episode 1)

So basic info on the tags and how to follow my reactions below, but I'm honestly too emotional to type much more than that. What the heck was even that? I gotta get going, so I'll let past Bods of a few minutes ago do the talking under the "Keep Reading Button" but YIKES this was a LOT.

I currently have Wolf359 Tags blocked to avoid spoilers and will try my best to react blindly. I also made this meme to describe my recent feelings.

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs

So for these last few episodes, I'm just gonna live react since I have the time to sit down. Sorry for inconsistent formatting.

Episode 11: Am I Alone Now?

Um... Hilbert? A grey door where no one ever goes??? Well...where does it go? "Open in Emergency When You're Alone"... what does that mean?

Oh the joke about the genie. I've heard this one before: "I wish my friends were back with me". Yep, that's it.

Wait. Wait. Is that what the door does? Does it somehow...bring them back? What is this metaphor trying to suggest? Or...does it only make you think they're back? So that you don't go crazy? Or is it a door that leads outside the ship? Like...a door that gives you the option to, for lack of a better word, "give up" if the others die and you're left alone in space? Because that would also be dark.

Okay, Hilbert, I agree, fear can be adaptive. Uh, not sure about the gun and war thing, that's not exactly what I meant...wait bombs? Hilbert, no, you SHOULD be afraid of yourself.

Working on the fear of death? Uh...Hilbert? Are you uh...working on reanimating corpses in space, because that sounds like a bad idea to me.

"Alone should be afraid of us instead there is a door incase I am ever alone." Well what about the others?

I agree Hilbert, alone can be a good time to focus, but I gotta say, not sure I like how you're spending your valuable alone time.

"The scary part is the part of your mind that whispers back: how can you be sure?".

Oh. Now what's interesting about that quote is that in the "Alone should be afraid of us" sentence it personifies alone. The only way to really be comfortable being alone is if you are confident that you are stronger than whatever might be there if you aren't alone. But how can you ever know 100% that you are stronger than the unknown? Also there are sound effects that sound like someone moving about. Don't like that.

Is it Blessie?

"Someone must think they are alone when they are not, there must be monsters underneath someone's bed". Okay, Hilbert, clearly going for the creepy quote of the episode award.

Why is there knocking?

Uh...Empty Man?

Um...why is WHO here Hilbert? What other missions???? Was Hilbert on another mission? Hello???? Hilbert? EXPLAIN????

"You weren't here last time, but now you are here waiting for the day, open in case of emergency, open only when you are alone."

Does the empty man want them to open the door? When they think he's not around? Why?

Uh...I don't think that joke is very funny Hilbert. And no, I'm not laughing, you're dodging my questions.

Oh now we're onto Hera. I like this. We see a lot of Doug alone but not the others.

Yeah, Hera you should NOT trust the code Hilbert gives you. I wouldn't be surprised if he's experimenting on you too.

HERA. WHAT DO YOU "SENSE UNSEEN?" And yeah...Hera I know how programming works. If I don't unblock the wolf359 tag, tumblr.com isn't gonna just show me wolf359 posts, or tell me "hey here's one you should look at". But let's just say, hypothetically, that one of my mutuals draws some wolf359 season 1 fan art that doesn't spoil anything for me. Then I would trust that they might message me, and tell me that it's okay to view their wonderful art, but I won't know that unless they tell me because the tag is blocked. Not the best metaphor, but the point still stands, Hera I guess you don't HAVE to tell them about the "empty man" roaming the ship unless they ask you for that information. But as their friend, you probably should. What motivation would you have for hiding this? Hera seems to have very human attributes in terms of her ability to have social connections. She also seems to care about them to some degree. At least, she seems fond of Doug and has some tension with Mincowski and Hilbert. She's pretending to talk to Doug, which is a very human thing to do.

Ah yes. Good for you for finding loopholes in your programming Hera. I like riddles too. But...what exactly are you going to do with these riddle answers you've acquired? Are you going to help the rest of the crew? Blessie? The empty man? Or do you have your own agenda?

"Somedays I wonder if I'll miss you after you go away forever Doug." Aw, Hera. 🥺.

"I doubt it". No, I think you will Hera. The fact that you, a robot, are even wondering about missing Doug makes me think you will. Especially since you could, theoretically, live until the heat death of the universe, which is a very long time to be alone.

Wait. WAIT. The storm is happening on a part of the spectrum that their minds can't process...is that what the empty man is? Is that why they can't see him? But Hera can't see it either so her programming must either not be able to see it or it's being blocked. But weirdly enough, only visually it seems. Huh.

Hera seems frustrated with humanity, but also seems to care about them, maybe envy them a little bit. I love this level of complexity with her. "Once the game is over, I'll come up with some names for these colors." Yikes, Sophie, when you said that I was writing the Whisperer very similarly to Hera, I didn't realize it was gonna be that spot on, but okay, especially with her calling this a “game”. It’s kinda like a darker version of what I’m writing or at least, it seems to be leaning darker, probably because it’s adult media. It also makes me wonder who Hera's creator is and what they want, or maybe that just doesn't matter in this story.

"Someday. After you've all gone away..." Um. Hera. Did you open the door?

Or are you the genie in this metaphor?

Ah now we're with Doug.

INCINERATED? What sort of psych evaluation is this? And these questions are NOT standardized for space. When coming up with psych evaluation materials, you need context. Answers that are normal in a warzone or in space are not normal in everyday life.

WHY IS HE SEARCHING FOR ALIEN LIFE IF HE DOESN'T WANT TO BE HERE? Doug, I know pizza hut might not be paying much, but you gotta follow your passion, and this clearly isn't it.

10 things you miss about earth and not one person? No one? No family? No friends?

"Great listener"/"I empathize too much" ok Doug.

Hm. Not too sure about Doug's answers. Honesty is only overrated when you're not the one being lied to Doug.

It also makes me wonder what you really miss about Earth.

Wait. Mission = Punishment? Spaceship = Prison? Is Doug...are they...are they doing this because they are completing a criminal sentence? If so, I can see how Hilbert and Mincowski got assigned to this as a punishment, they have science and military backgrounds, but what on Earth is Doug's story? "He was a former tech genius kid who burnt out got into drugs and alcohol, worked at pizza hut, did a crime, and now they sent him to space?" And since when do space missions fulfill court mandated community service? Also Doug I think technically has arms training, because if I recall correctly, Mincowski gave him a gun but refused to give one to Hilbert. Like...who are you Doug? What is your deal?

Alone...again. Yeah, just Doug and the voices in his head. Forgot about those. There's a lot to keep track of for a small cast of characters.

Let's do a quick run down before we hear from the commander:

Doug Eiffel- former pizza hut employee, no family/friends to speak of, possibly serving prison sentence, apparently knows how to use a gun and a lot about communications

Dr. Hilbert- doing VERY unethical space experiments, sees himself as a genius despite being a huge liability whose mind was nearly over taken by a killer plant. Obviously knows SOMETHING the others don't, so I don't trust him or his spinal fluid stealing ways.

Commander Mincowski- stereotypical by the books commander, I like her, but she also has a ton of unanswered questions and vague backstory so ???

Hera- seems nice, I wish people treated her better but also clearly keeping secrets from the others including Doug who is her friend so Hera what are you doing?

Percival The Plant aka. "Percy" aka. The Blessed Eternal aka. "Percival B. Eternal" aka. "Blessie" aka "Specimen 34"- a plant that thinks of itself as a god. Where did it come from? Even if it did take over the ship, what is it's plan? No one knows.

The Empty Man???- may or may not exist, seems to be off the visible spectrum even for robots and AI. He's hungry or as the messages put it "the empty man hungers" and that's about all we know about him. What we don't know is what his food source is, and I find that rather troubling. Maybe Doug can make him some pizza. Oh, and one other thing: he knocks. Which...is surprisingly courteous behavior from a dangerous man that can't be seen. But why would they open the door for him, unless...oh. Unless they are so desperate not to be alone that they embrace the empty man. But like...how would that even...I don't even know. Also apparently the empty man was asleep, because the first message said he'd awoken. Awoken from what? Hyper sleep? Was he in the box? Apparently he can see them even if he can't be seen, and I don't like that.

The voices in Doug's head- they say "he's not the first". Which is kind of crazy, because Dr. Hilbert was talking about "other missions". So um...what other missions? Who are the others? Who are the voices? Is something being transmitted into Douglas' head?

Captain Lovelace and that scientist lady (don't remember her name) from the sealed off lab- are they still alive? Were they on a previous mission? Why did they want to make spiders bigger? What was the point of these experiments? I SWEAR I saw people posting about Lovelace before I blocked the tag, which makes me think she's important.

The Spiders- presumed dead. Let's hope so.

The thing in the box- weird that the box was 953, which is 359 backwards. Weird that it had a heartbeat. Weird that it was labelled "for Doug Eiffel" with no other information. Odd that there were so many other seemingly nonsensical boxes in that room.

Whoever sent the “Empty Man” messages. Because I’m starting to suspect it might not have been command and there might not have been a psychological experiment. Which means the messages were meant for someone, but whoever sent them didn't want the others to know about it. ...but who were the messages for? Hilbert? Hera? Hilbert? ...Blessie???

Whoever sent that jazz music earlier. It's good music, but why?

Also important to note that multiple characters on this list might be the same people, people pretending to be the same people, or different versions of the same character due to cloning or time travel experiments thanks to weird space magic and also Dr. Hilbert.

Now let's here from the captain.

I um...I wouldn't call the talent show a success. Dr. Hilbert didn't get to make the ice cream! We never even got to find out what everyone's favorite flavor was 😥

3 minutes. Okay. Let's see what Captain Mincowski says.

I wonder who she's talking to.

Yeah, the plant being, it's weird that that's not a priority here, I agree Captain.

Huh. The weather is weird. VERY weird that Hilbert is ignoring it, and VERY weird that he has human tissues samples and jars with dead things after giving a monologue about trying to conquer death. Don't like that one little bit.

Soap? Hilbert you need to get better at lying. And yeah, captain given that he's talking about "other missions", I think he might have been lying for longer than anyone realizes...

Things moving around and turning up in odd places...it seems the empty man and Blessie (one of the two) enjoy furniture rearranging...yeah I do think there's more than the three of you, my list had at least 10 with some possible overlap.

I'm sorry what. The station changes? THE DOOR TO A SECTION JUST VANISHED? Terrarium? That might be Blessie, but still...that's weird. Eiffel...huh. Unsure if this is a case of him being so absent minded he didn't notice or remember the terrarium, or if he legit can't remember. Wait Wednesday started over? Clocks turned back at midnight? FOOD RETURNED? Okay you can change clocks, but you can't...okay time is being warped now. Maybe. Possibly. This is gonna be one of those things where you don't know how much is in their heads and how much is actually happening right? Oh boy. But also...how can one remember a time loop and the others don't...unless they are all remembering different loops...oh goodness, is this like Netflix's Dark, where I'm gonna have to start drawing maps or something?

"I don't know if there's anyone else I can trust": yeah, commander, and with the others in the same boat, it looks like you all really are alone.

Wait "MARRIED ME?" Who is she calling? Aw. Happy Birthday. That's sad but sweet. I hope she makes it home to whoever that is, but...for some reason I doubt.

Also...with the time loop stuff...is that what they mean by saying Doug isn't the first? Is Hilbert trying to escape the time loop is that why he remembers the other missions? What are the missions for? What does Hera know? Man I gotta stop doing these as study breaks or I'm never gonna quit.

But. Wait wait. Okay, I know I’ve had about 600 different insane theories already, but one more: I don’t know who sent the empty man messages. But. Is the empty man… a vessel for someone? Hilbert was talking about cheating death, time warp stuff is happening, maybe this is an invention of future Hilbert. If it came from the box, it might be for Doug. Like a… backup body for his consciousness or an… invisible clone or something? It makes the “you’re not the first” stuff make sense too. Doesn’t explain Hera’s behavior or why Doug is in space, or why the empty man is hungry and knocking, but… you know what never mind idk where I was going with this one.

I think I'll react to the rest tomorrow, because it's late, and I'm tired.

Episode 12: Deep Breaths

Update: It is tomorrow. :)

Why so doom and gloom Doug? Oh it's Christmas. Well someone's a bit of a scrooge. What else besides celebrating a nice holiday Doug? What doesn't the commander remember?

No Doug, don't hint at stuff, explain it. Normalize explaining things.

Doug. A cigarette cannot be all you are living for. You need help. You all need help.

Don't cry for me Argentina? Do not go gentle into that good night?

Doug is so dramatic. I'd hate him more, but I'm in this picture, and I don't like it.

Hilbert. Why do you need him for your experiment?

DOUG DO NOT LIT THE CIGARETTE.

Hera tell him.

Everyone needs to listen to Hera more. And also ask her more questions.

Oh boy another recording!

Sounds like music, less clear this time...oh. A band!

Aw, Hera remembered his birthday! 🥺 Wait...were those words via the transmission!

Oh Hilbert hush up.

Why would it matter if they were all music or always old transmissions from the 10s or 20s?

Hilbert. Okay. Look, 7.8 light years away, I get that...but...now hear me out...isn't it possible that you could be picking up music on a station that plays music from an older decade? Like if I picked up the song "Let it be" by the Beatles my first thought would not be "Hey! That song didn't come out 8 years ago. ALIENS." it would be "oh we pick up a 60s/70s radio station". Now obviously something deeper probably IS going on here, but still a bit of a leap.

Uh. Making a return trip to...where?? Also this is some pretty clear music. Also good quote "When you eliminate the impossible, whatever is left no matter how unlikely must be true."

Also I recognize the music playing. Is that...hold up is that Church music? For Christmas? Wait now it sounds like a ballet?

Um...what is that.

...and why did it happen as soon as they talked about trying to find the aliens?

Let's see. A little weird that the station can receive transmission better than it can send. 40 light years away? That's pretty far.

And um...I don't know if I'd be so optimistic about this. We still have a lot of unanswered questions.

What is lock down protocol 24c and what is indigo39? Hilbert. HILBERT. Were you lying about the aliens to experiment on Doug Hilbert?

Oh poor Hera. Alpha victor? What... how does Hilbert have all these codes? Why can't she let Mincowski in? Hilbert. Are you taking over the ship? Is this a one man mutiny? It is treason. WHY DOES THIS ALTER THE MISSION? LAST HALF HOUR OF OXYGEN? NO NO NO NO NO!

Yeah Eiffel, he IS crazy.

Oh no Hera.

Minutes? How does he have a way to contact Earth? Who is YOUR superior Hilbert? The devil? He must be since you are RUINING CHRISTMAS AND DOUGLAS' BIRTHDAY THAT NO ONE BUT HERA REMEMBERED. How hard is it to save your evil plans until after the holidays? How hard is it not to betray a man on his birthday?

Hera. Hera PLEASE tell me you found a way to win the game. PLEASE tell me you found a way around this.

...Hera?

Uh-oh.

Episode 13: Gas Me Twice

Well that was a bummer. I swear, Mincowski better not die she has a family.

I hate Hilbert so much. Dude is the WORST.

Wait! The oxygen mask! For the cigarette! Douglas your stupidity has saved you again!

...oh my gosh I really am in this picture, and I don't like it.

Oh no. Hera. Hera you need to help him. Yes Douglas! Have faith in her! Even though she's actively withholding information, she still seems nice! HERA! It hurts her? Oh no... oh Hera no. 🥺

22 minutes of air? Well, at least she's still alive.

Incoming pulse beacon? Interesting...

Hephestus station please respond? ...Who is Cutter???

Contingency scenarios? Data series? Transmission from deep space? Origin source? Who are these people? WHAT ARE THEY LOOKING FOR?

Oh...wait why would he know about Eiffel being alive? Haha...oh Eiffel. This was a good plan. But you might have wanted to get a little more information from him.

Death was no immediate? Okay so Hilbert was under orders to kill, but it seems Doug is his own experimental side project? Interesting...

Oh dear. A fire. Looks like you have to let Hera have control back.

Yes! Mincowski is still alive! :)

YES HERA! Emergency response overrides it! For 20 minutes? Great. Kill or capture Hilbert now.

MADE HIM DO WHAT? NO HERA NO!

HERAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Restarting... no. No. Hera. You killed her. 😢😟🥺

This gif I found pretty much approximates my feelings:

HILBERT NEEDS TO DIE.

Shut up Hilbert. No one wants to hear you speak.

Oh...hello Mincowski :)

NOW BEAT HIM UP!

And yeah...it's okay Mincowski. A lot has happened. Christmas was ruined. You lost a crewmate. It's okay to not be okay.

Can you hear me? Well Hera did say she could always hear him. Maybe a part of her mind got saved somewhere. At least, we can always hope.

Lobotomized her? No you need to fix her. 🥺

Hilbert you bastard. I don't swear much or at all on this blog, but if there was ever a time, it is now. And um... given the plant situation and the other mysterious stuff on the ship...look I don't support murder, but maybe you could just send Hilbert off by himself in a little pod and let nature take its course.

You deserved a good dinner Mincowski. Aw, Doug is 32. Happy Birthday Doug.

Hm. A communication from Hilbert's commanders. This is awkward. But better open it. And yeah, you both deserve answers.

But who is on the other line?

...Why does it sound like an telephone?

WHAT.

How dare. How dare they end on such a cliffhanger?

Mini Episode 1: Are space suits itchy?

So I'm not sure what this is, but it's on my podcast list as the last episode of season 1, so I'm gonna listen to it? Let me know if it's not canon or something, but hopefully it will be nice, even if I don't get any answers.

Aw, third grade questions. "What do you do when you're crewmate betrays you?"

IDIOTIC QUESTION? Doug what is up with your family? Be nice to Stephanie, it was a fair question.

Yeah, no don't see your doctor. He's nuts. I feel like I might be listening to his out of order. Which is a good thing. Otherwise Doug would be on the podcast telling third graders to not call their doctor lest the doctor try to kill him.

Oh boy the censorship 😂. Mincowski is the better person for this.

Well that was a quick one, but nice! Oh okay, so it was like a mini episode that aired during a break, okay. Well I hope that soon enough I'll be able to listen to more. Because I need answers. Hera needs to get better. And Hilbert needs to go to jail. I want his degrees revoked! I want him rotting in the slammer! I want the world to look upon him with nothing but contempt and disgust!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, see you all next time.

Wait no, wait hold on. What about the door? The door that Hilbert was supposed to open once he killed all of them? The grey door, the one he kept giving ominous monologues about? And...he knew about the empty man, or maybe the transmission were to tell him about the empty man. But what is that? What does that mean? You know what, we can figure that out later, I'm still mad at him.

[kinopioa]

Anyone else feel like the separation of artist and writer interacting with each other has harmed both terribly in the industry? With hacky executives furthering the divide?

Writers devoid of arts and interaction with the world, so they get stuck on a recycling of tropes and lack of emotion, or being too wordy and blunt of what a char says/does. It feels unnatural and forced, too planned and predetermined regardless how awful the pacing is. The lack of consideration for visuals impacts development for artists

And then Artists being so divorced from story telling, that the characters they design and make end up too ungrounded and quirky. They too fall prey to expression crutches and tropes, and lose identity among themselves entirely cuz "aesthetic". Nor realize when something is overexaggerated or just straight up noise. A writer's message may be clouded completely due to it

For ref of extremes, we have for writers a few decently written adult animated shows...look like shit. And the lack of decent animation actually limited stories on what characters can do. Mass appeal is lost. A Troll in Central Park meanwhile, beautifully animated and good art design...is a pretty shit and boring movie. You'll be roped into the aesthetic, but then grow bored extremely fast due to vapid interactions and events

I feel like both can get corrupted due to fame/ego, especially if they're commissioned for an existing franchise. Neither want to do deep research, and just do immediate bias or aesthetic appeal. Even fans of said franchises of either category can disastrously have the ego/bias

The lack of collaboration and attempt of minimal understanding of either field has led to a lot of crappy and even pretentious media lately

For good examples that show deeper understanding of char writing and design, look at this from Rugrats S1

It is an established guide both writers and artists have to follow. In the movie, the very first instance of malice Tommy has is seen, and treated as a huge deal. He's treated as a well defined character for developers, not a random ragdoll to then be smashed and dressed up in any silly way for a quick laugh

I feel like response to overly strict execs and nostalgia fatigue has led to both artist and writer to forge a path out away from each other in retaliation. Leading both to ironically, disrespect the character as mere pawns for whatever. Meme culture and general fatigue at society also has in a way worn down taking anything seriously, leading to both to do random shit. Which to be fair, is fine for stress relief (Rugrats infamously had storyboard stress pics leaked, and writers can be crass in personal memos). But in the work meant to be presented, this is very touchy

I feel both artists and writers see guidelines as a bad thing, when they themselves should know their own limits. I feel they both see each other's field as extraneous, instead of something vital in teamwork to the development of the work. Same with blaming only the exec when it's personal fault as well (though execs now are 100% divorced from reality in Hollywood)

I'm just tired. I feel all this did was lead to only liking something cuz of vibes, not anything legitimately grounded. And a bunch of copycats running wild with it, or getting overly engrossed in nostalgia.

That said, in terms of who it harms more, I feel art can be used as a way to mask poor writing...for a brief period. Good writing with bad art is harder to sell, even if it ages slightly better later.

For aspiring artists and writers, please. Learn of the processes of the other and the world, and learn to collaborate within constraints as opposed to working in defiance of constraints. And learn to accept criticism, even if it's impossible to please everyone

[mbrainspaz]

I wasn't one of those evangelical kids who got caught up in the emotions of the camp devotionals. I never really cared about the rapture, or death in general. Much less eternal life. The reason I stuck around all the way through college was because I trusted the family and friends who taught me all the bible stuff. They always told me not to trust them, so that one's on me.

They always said, "Don't take my word for it, read the scripture! Do your own studying!" I said to myself, "yeah yeah, cool. In theory. I can't read aramaic or ancient greek though, and I don't really want to spend years in school learning that. It's much more practical to have all these people I know I can trust because they're such good people who clearly have my best interests at heart."

Then I went to a bible college. For an art degree, but they still made me take a bible class every semester. Between meeting esteemed bible scholars and historians in universities on the other side of the world who did know ancient greek aaaaaaand becoming distanced from my old communities, I finally did what they'd always told me to do: I did my own studying. I never learned much ancient greek but learning how to do academic research helped a lot.

Wouldn'tchaknowit—my findings vastly expanded my knowledge from what I'd been taught as a kid. At that point in my early 20's I didn't feel betrayed. What I thought I'd discovered were earnest mistakes! An honest lack of understanding from folks who hadn't had the privilege of traveling and studying the way I had. I was happy to bring what I'd learned back home to them, and embark on new adventures in learning together.

Only one... little... problem. Turns out none of them wanted that.

They didn't want to hear about the fascinating history of biblical mistranslations or cultural analysis of American evangelicalism and how it relates to feminism. They didn't want to learn about the history of other world religions like Buddhism and the interesting parallels with Abrahamic religions. They didn't want to believe queer people aren't explicitly condemned by scripture or that the 2000 year old book they worship might not actually contain a fail-safe blueprint for life in the 21st century. They didn't want think about how much of the bible might've been tacked on by scholars & kings who used it as a tool for social control. I still believed in god and called myself a Christian at this point, after all that. I lost my faith in the people first. I opened my eyes and saw it all. I saw too much.

Any time I tried to share what I'd learned or gently push back against their teachings their condemnation was immediate and absolute. It quickly became clear that what 'studying scripture' meant to them was only ever, "we'll tell you what it means, and you'll believe us." Any deviation from their 'interpretation'—now plainly revealed to me as patriarchal 1950's American traditionalism dressed up in middle eastern farmer's robes and doing a VBS play production of an ancient culture they knew frighteningly little about—only branded me as a disrespectful dissident. I also saw Christians I'd respected doing all manner of dishonorable things. A missionary who'd once nearly convinced me to work with him in South America sent me a horrifically islamophobic manifesto. Church elders admitted to me that they owned city slums. Outwardly perfect couples filed for divorce. Bit by bit it wore down my trust. It broke the illusion that Christianity offered any kind of exclusive merit or made anybody better somehow. I started to realize they were all just as flawed and fallible as any 'sinner' off the street. Of course they were all quick to say 'we have all fallen short of the grace of God!'—but what's the point, then? These people I'd trusted with my soul were quick to admit that they shouldn't be trusted... then turn around and insist that they still knew what was best for me and my life.

Over the next few years it got to the point that they as good as told me to my face that the only way I could keep being part of their community was if I shut up and conformed to exactly what they believed. I almost could've put up with it except that that tacitly included being good christian wife with 2.5 kids who votes republican, lives in the suburbs, and goes to Wednesday night bible study to listen to some local septuagenarian who never set foot in seminary school teach me a moral lesson from the same damn book every week.

Like hell.

It became painfully clear they'd never truly cared about what was good for me or what would actually make me happy. Once I realized the horrible truth of my situation I only stuck around so long because I didn't want to rock the boat. I always liked the singing, and the sexist jokes from the pulpit were a decent conversation starter for whenever I wanted to try another assault on the fortress of my parents' ignorance. One day during Sunday morning song service my dad saw me reading a book in my lap. He leaned over and angrily said, "If you're only here for me, don't bother." So I stood up and walked out.

Never been back.

God and I were always chill, from the start to the end. We get into some heated moral arguments and sometimes we debate whether gods even exist, but what else are gods for? It's the worshipers who worry me.

[moonsuke]

Oh my gosh… my AquaKana/Kana heart likes the latest episode but my usual criticisms (since Melt’s episode) still applies too! Like is no one else seeing what I’m seeing?? No one else thinking the same??

But I shall start with what I enjoyed first which is the AquKana lol. They really play it up for them (being meant for each other/end game) way more than in the manga. Even the way Touki held Tsurugi was made more intimate and 'ship-ish', I was like "am I watching a shojo???" lol. It's interesting how Touki still sounds and acts so much like Aqua while it's less so for Tsurugi/Kana.

I also like how they portrayed their "inner voices" reaching the other, not just as actors being able to communicate their thoughts their movements, but as themselves. That's why they'd that whole half a minute sequence (I didn't like this part btw) just showing us their past interactions. It's to show us how Aqua has always been there for Kana to support her. We always say Kana is Aqua's light but here, they're reminding us that Aqua is Kana's light too. In her darkest moments sinking into her childhood traumas, he's the one to shine a light and pull her out of it. I mean, penlight scene from season 1? And now him symbolically holding the spotlight towards her for her to shine?? Which is also what he did in the Sweet Today arc? It's so literal lol. And while I do appreciate the anime doing this to flesh out their history and relationship, the way they show their intentions can be really awkward and out of place, which leads me to what I dislike.

I’ve said this for the Melt and Akane episodes, the anime is doing great at the emotional/character deep dive scenes. They really put in a lot of effort animating new scenes to flesh out the existing panels from the manga to fully let us understand the characters. There’s so much thought and effort into how to tell us the story of a particular character and to make us empathize with them. It's the same for the Kana scenes this episode. They did a better job making me feel for her than the manga ever did. It's the music, the beautiful and symbolic animations, the subtle expressions, the VAs' skills, the choice and sequence of scenes included, the additional dialogues, everything. So much effort being given. They're doing great at 'show not tell' but only for the character introspective scenes.

Because other than those, it's awkward af! Especially when it comes to the flashy and impactful scenes! The animation/art is still pretty, but it can be so out of place and not impactful despite them animating it like it should be impactful which further highlights how it's lacking! I get it's difficult to translate the actors' "star power" and charisma that the manga tried to get across, but I'm just not feeling it in the anime! It's just... artsy... which I get is what they're trying to do; make us view their performance like a piece of art but... It's not working for me I'm sorry. People are loving it it seems, so it's just me.

But its not just that! I find the timing and pacing so off too! And it can look so stagnant and awkward sometimes because of the positioning or lack of additional frames or something. Idk what it is, but something is off! Like when Kana was showing off her acting and Akane was being a fangirl? That scene felt so flat and awkward? Or when Saya hime was supposed to jump in front of Touki to protect him but instead she just... walks... and we even hear her wooden shoes clacking... It's so awkward!!

I think everything just felt too precise and "perfect"? It's like every scene feels a little too sequential, like they want to make sure they covered every single panel of the manga. "This goes from A to B, so I shall animate it as such", as compared to the character scenes where they took their own creative liberties and animate more scenes to fill in the gaps. The "sudden A to B" scenes might work well in manga, but in anime, it just doesn't? So they need to do what they're doing with the character scenes but extend it to... all scenes???

I don't know, I'm not seeing anyone pointing out the same things but these are things I've consistently been thrown off by since the stage play started. And nothing beats the Kana/Himekawa fight scene from ep 1 still which was just their rehearsal fight scene... Now, that was impactful. Perhaps I was expecting that kind of emotions elicited from the stage play as well.

[emmersreads]

We Ride Upon Sticks - Quan Barry

4/5

I enjoyed 92% of We Ride Upon Sticks and that’s mostly because I approached it with the right attitude: it ain’t that deep.

This novel is best appreciated as a lighthearted and goofy romp down memory lane. The marketing blurb compares it to Stranger Things and that’s an absolutely delusional comparison; both works trade in 80s nostalgia, but that’s where the similarity ends. It’s better to think of We Ride Upon Sticks as a teen comedy with a faintly supernatural flavour, like Ouran High School Host Club, Derry Girls, or in my mind especially, British comedy St. Trinian’s. Everything, from the supernatural to the interpersonal, is to be jeered and mocked with 2 kool 4 skool teen swagger. And that’s a lot of fun.

I enjoyed the book on its own terms — it’s a genuinely heartwarming picture of teenage friendship and rebellion, and I did indeed laugh at the jokes — but I also liked it on a meta-level. It’s nice to have an unapologetically queer and feminist high school comedy without it being bogged down by mawkish emotional problems. I know I was once a teen constantly beleaguered by mawkish emotional problems (twas the era of Fall Out Boy and 21 Pilots), but as an adult that isn’t the part I look back on fondly. In other words, the art style of Heartstopper is very cute, but manzo do they have problems. We Ride Upon Sticks nails how irony-poisoned and allergic to sincerity we were as teens, and for some reason that meant a lot more to me than teenagers working through their emotions using healthy coping mechanisms and clear communication.

The only thing that really bugged me in the majority of the novel was the unceasing reoccurring jokes. Quan Barry loves a running gag. They come back so constantly and with such absurd regularity that it came back around to being funny for me (through I think a less easily entertained reader might find it simply unendurable instead). But that’s the majority of the book, and I want to move on to the 8% of We Ride Upon Sticks that I didn’t enjoy: the ending.

An unavoidably huge part of this novel is that it is socially conscious. It wants to do right by the feminist, queer, and BIPOC struggles of 80s teens and it wants you to know in the clearest most thoroughly explained language possible. Some readers might find this sanctimonious, but I thought it was fine. One weakness of this approach, however, is that it is always very obvious when the author fumbles the bag.

In this case the bag is the character Corey Young, formerly ‘boy’ Corey.

Spoilers for the ending of We Ride Upon Sticks.

The novel ends with a flash forward to our characters reuniting as middle-aged women so we can see what happened to the Danvers Falcons in adult life. I liked the idea and I liked the fact that for more of the characters their formative years continued well after high school graduation. The one I didn’t like was boy Corey. In the intervening years she has come out and fully transitioned. Now, I know a lot of trans people in real life and also I understand obvious foreshadowing, so I saw this coming a mile away. It was not a Reveal. Problem is the book so desperately wanted to treat it as one. We get this super long fake out scene before the book reveals that Corey is a woman now! Surprise! Were you expecting a man! I found that kinda tasteless.

What bothered me more is that while we hear a lot about the team’s anxiety about reuniting with Corey — will they say the wrong thing? Did they made transition harder for her? — we never hear anything from Corey herself. I’d put this down to a lack of authorial confidence. It feels like Barry is a lot more familiar with how it feels to be friends with a trans woman than how it feels to be a trans woman. That’s not a problem in and of itself, but I felt we needed to hear Corey’s side of things too. Is she excited to reunite with all her friends as her authentic gender? Is she apprehensive about spending time with people who only knew her pre-transition? This book is all about centring marginalized perspectives, that’s why it spends so much time explicitly calling out the ways the characters themselves fails at this — that it was disappointing for it to end by cantering a bunch of cis women’s anxiety about being accepting enough over a trans woman’s thoughts. Since this is what the book is All About, the comparatively small detail has an out-sized impact.

I already didn’t like the specifics of the reveal, and its general effect didn’t work either. It is one of a whole bunch of fake outs and twists in the flash forward section. There are so many that it fucks up the pacing, since the story is now being told essentially in reverse to accommodate the dramatic reveals. It ends on the note that the Danvers Falcons’ success was never the work of the devil, the idea of supernatural intervention just gave a bunch of teenagers the excuse they needed to work hard and band together. I thought that was really sweet, but it takes so long to get there that I was just ready for it to be over.

On balance, this is a recommend from me. I like that it’s fun and lighthearted, but it is also a queer novel that isn’t afraid to be ironic and crass. I enjoyed the absurd 80s references and the overplayed jokes. I liked that sports fiction can be for girls sometimes!

Let the hairspray wash over you and don’t worry about what the long term effects of all those CFCs will end up being.