#am trying to figure out what’s up but am still not sure

[pressplay-if]

I saw that the single mum route is the less angsty when it comes to family stuff. Which is lovely. However, it reminded me of something I was thinking the other day. I was trying to figure out what kind of depressive thoughts my MC may have (as I'm still deciding if he'll have depression or social anxiety). And since I always pick the single mother route (I love the idea of MC being the poor friend of the band), I got some ideas.

Basically, I guess my MC would feel a lot of guilt. He knows that his mother is busy with so much work not out of being a workaholic, but by need. Need that is significantly exacerbated by MC's existence. I do imagine a young MC especially feeling guilty and as a burden to their mum, since the poor woman has to raise them and work full time.

This is further increased as the years come by and MC decides to dedicate their lives to a band. A high reward but high risk kind of job. My MC could easily fail to achieve any major success. And then what? It's very easy to feel guilt. Maybe he should have tried to find a more stable job? Something to help his mother so she can lower her workload significantly?

Then again, I am sure my MC's mother would prefer MC to go after his dreams. So, I imagine, MC is also in a weird position where he also would feel guilt if he didn't pursue the music life. Because he is sure his mother would know, and she would feel bad. His mother could easily blame herself that her child is leaving their dream behind. And my MC couldn't bear such idea. So, he is stuck in a weird limbo.

Of course this may be just me overthinking. But it could be some kind of ideas that my MC could fester on his mind as he grows up. Since it's very easy to go from guilt to be burden, to guilt about existing, and then to decide to remove himself from life as that would, in a way, "fix the problem" (which is not true, of course, since suicide doesn't fix things).

Well, I'll stop rambling. This is perhaps a bit of a downer, so I understand if you prefer to ignore it. In any case this basically comes from me thinking a lot about my MC and this IF.

Why would I ignore it I love long asks. Although it does make me think that perhaps (given the current state of the hospitalization interlude) MC may need more options to describe their depressive thoughts. Bc in the interlude, it's all mostly symptom-based, and there's more screentime to MC getting better than MC experiencing the depression. This is partly for the sake of brevity (I'm worried about the interlude getting to long, given it's just another flashback basically, albeit a really important one). But the MC CAN in fact say they felt like a burden to their single mother in a later decision (not chapter 2, it's when they move out).

[bluedalahorse]

I mentioned wanting to write a fic about how things become a little more functional between Simon and August in their 20s, so here’s the scenario I want to write the fic about:

Simon and Wilhelm are close to graduating university. Felice is doing studies abroad in some capacity, and Sara is on the other coast of Sweden. August has just returned from university at Georgetown and is taking up some crown prince duties.

Simon and Wilhelm didn’t go to the same school—they each ended up in a school that fit their study needs—but they’re about 1-1.5 hours apart by train. They try to see one another relatively often, maybe on the weekends. They each have their own set of friends at their own school. In the final semesters of university, Simon gets involved in some particular, career-related project I haven’t decided on yet, which takes up a little more of his time. Their relationship is a little more “long distance” than usual but they still care for each other.

Wille’s having a rough go of it, though. In part he’s struggling academically, in part because he’s feeling the identity pressure of, who is he exactly? He’s done a lot of exploring over the past years, after leaving the crown, because trying to find yourself after a life of being told who you need to be is an ongoing process. He’s still trying to figure things out. There might be some Gender in the mix, too. (I am a they/he Wille truther.) Anyway, some of Wille’s university friends use recreational drugs, never in a way where they’re pressuring him but in a way where he’s around it. And with things being tough, Wille uses a few times in a “just for fun, just this once” sort of way, and then it begins to escalate.

Simon obviously notices that Wille is using, because his life story and what he remembers of life with Micke means he will notice. And immediately he knows he wants to get Wille help, but he’s also terrified of this becoming a situation where he feels like he has to handle everything by himself. He enlists the help of Sara and Felice from afar, he talks to Linda about it, but he realizes he also needs help from someone in Wilhelm’s family. Someone who sort of knows the upper class pressures and the way Kristina and Ludwig can be and all those insider things. It’s the kind of thing he might go to Erik about if Erik were alive, but Erik isn’t alive, and who was Erik anyway?

Well… over the past six or seven years, Wilhelm and August have been doing their best to have some kind of relationship. It starts awkward and hesitant at first, but becomes something over time. They try to check in on the phone once a week, and they try to coordinate their plans going in to family Christmas and such. They know what they are going to say if Kristina tries to pit the two against one another, they know how to cover for the other if one of them just wants to duck out of the fifth course of dinner and just scream. They can talk each other through panic attacks now and grieve together. Maybe Erik was the brother each of them wanted. Maybe they are also becoming the sibling each of them needed, inch by inch.

And Simon knows this, and has been okay with it happening because Wille respects his boundaries around it and has kept his Simon sphere and his August sphere separate so far.

But now Wille is in danger, and Simon knows he wants someone from Wille’s family (the part of Wille’s family he’s not part of, anyway) to help him.

So he calls August at an awkward time of day and says, “Hi. I didn’t want to have to do this, but I need your help.”

And August has noticed the signs of a growing addiction in Wille as well—of course he has, he has watched his father, he has dealt with this himself—and was about a day away from calling Simon in desperation.

“I need your help, too,” August says.

So they end up banding together to help Wille, to make sure Wille feels supported by both of them, to handle as much as possible before Kristina can swoop in (or before they have to call her in, in a careful and coordinated way.)

Simon and August end up talking about their own fathers, and realize they share some experiences, that they can relate to each other’s hypervigilance, even if they came from different social classes. How would things have been different, they wonder, if they had known this from the start?

As Simon opens up to him, August comes to realize the extent to which Simon still lives with the aftermath of the video. August realizes that yes, Simon is getting incredible grades and gaining people’s respect and presenting at music conferences around Europe as an undergraduate, and that still coexists with the pain and the fear. August has always loathed himself for posting the video, but his remorse takes on a new texture, one that is more inclined toward positive action steps than wallowing.

As August opens up to him, Simon comes to realize that August loved Sara, that August still regrets not loving Sara the way she deserved to be loved. Simon has to some extent rationalized August’s falling in love with Sara as fuckboy manipulation tactics—that’s easier to believe—but he notices the similarities between how August loves and how Wilhelm loves, how they both burn so bright for another person that they sometimes can’t see that person clearly. Simon starts to see how August tries to care for other people and make them feel like they belong, even if it doesn’t always look the way he expects.

We were all so young then, Simon and August think.

Wilhelm looks at these two unexpected people who love him and want him to be well (who love them, they tentatively suggest, as August and Simon each hold one of their hands.) Wilhelm is surprised and a little afraid and also a little… hopeful?

We are all so young now, they all think. And yet we are still growing.

And together they build something new.

[skyahri]

Haunted |Satoru Gojo X Reader (?)| HC

Summary: Yuuji swears he's being haunted by the ghost of a little girl.

Warnings: Eh, it's mostly Yuuji content. Found family comfort dort of thing. All fluff, all Itadori being stupid.

- - - - -

Yuuji harshly rubbed his eyes, trying to get the blur to recede as quickly as possible. His other hand reached across his nightstand, knocking over a few figures as he tries to switch on his lamp. When his vision clears and his room is well lit, he's finally able to focus his sight on the doorway.

He swears he could feel someone staring at him. While the room and corridor were pitch black and he couldn't make out any details, the small silhouette made it clear that it was a child. Unfortunately, by the time he had caught his bearings, the figure was gone and there was nothing left in the dark hallway.

He got up peaked out into the hall. When nothing caught his eye, he pulled his door shut, clicking the lock into place and giving it a tug just to ease his nerves. It's probably best that he start making sure to do that every night.

The scare had left him on edge and he found himself tossing and turning the rest of the night. Maybe Megumi was right about watching scary movies before bed... not that he'd admit that to him.

He decided to keep the odd encounter (if it could even be called that) to himself out of fear of being ridiculed by his friends. They already gave him a lot of shit as is. Telling them about the ghost child who visited him last night was sure to end poorly for him, especially since he had no proof.

While the daylight had mostly kept the anxiety at bay, the dread of night brought it all back full force. That night, in a desperate attempt to lessen his paranoia, Yuuji made his way to the kitchen for some tea. The kettle was set, chamomile ready to be steeped, and now all that was left to do was lose himself in his thoughts while he waited.

The rational part of his brain was trying to convince him that he was being stupid- that there were no spooky ghost kids running around Jujutsu High, but he couldn't shake it off that easily. He'd had his fair share of nightmares, and this felt starkly different than any of those. It was far more real than anything he'd experienced before.

Just as the water began to steam, he felt that same eerie change in the air.

He peered around the open entryway, raking his eyes over everything he could make out in the darkness. Just as he was about to chalk the whole thing up to his shot nerves, he saw it- a flash of white moving towards the first year's dorms.

With no plan in mind or any regard for his own safety, he bolted after the cause of his anxiety, chasing it down a maze of hallways before the lead eventually ran cold. It's like the entity had vanished into thin air, not a single sound or residual left behind.

Though he was spooked to his core, he at least knew that he had, in fact, seen something last night.

As he made his way back towards the kitchen, he debated what to do with this newfound information. While he was entirely sure that he was being haunted, he still couldn't take this issue to Megumi or Nobara. They were nonbelievers and would use the opportunity to pick on him even more than they already did.

He had no choice but to deal with the situation himself.

That's how he found himself crouched next to his open bedroom door at two am the next day. He'd stayed up all night in preparation for what he dubbed as 'The Hunt' and he was now in the height of it all.

It wasn't long before he heard the pitter-patter of small feet, further confirming that this ghost must be a child. He fixed his posture and moved to a more suitable angle as the steps grew closer. When he saw the faintest bit of white hair illuminated by moonlight, he darted out, grabbing the creature by its calf and hoisting it into the air.

"Gotcha!"

Before he could reach the light switch in his room, it let out a loud, ear piercing scream. He had half a mind not to immediately drop it in an attempt to protect his hearing.

Alerted by the commotion, Megumi's door slid open and two Hell Hounds tumbled out. They raced towards him, only stopping just short of the pair. The brunette wasn't too far behind, his hands fixed in a bird-like position in preparation for whatever could be going on.

In the newfound light from his room, Yuuji finally got a good look at what had been following him all this time. Long white hair, fair skin, and pale blue eyes. The little girl was ghostly for sure.

"Itadori? What the Hell are you doing?"

"I caught the ghost that's been haunting me!"

"... what?"

Megumi, realizing that there was no actual threat, lowered his hands and released his dogs. While his posture became less rigid as the adrenaline slowly left his body, Yuuji's only seemed to increase, the stupid look on his becoming more dramatic.

He shook her back and forth like a freshly caught fish, completely oblivious to the panicked tears gathering in her eyes.

"A ghost, Fushiguro! I caught it!"

"That's my sister, idiot."

"Your sister is a ghost?!"

Megumi resisted the urge to punch him, opting to free the poor kid from his monstrous grip instead. He took a firm hold of her and gently flipped her into a more comfortable position. She didn't hesitate to cling to him, hugging him tight and burying her face into his neck.

"No, she isn't a ghost."

"But, she was staring into my room the other night!"

"It's a big school. She probably got confused on the way to my room and couldn't see."

"She was running through the halls in the middle of the night! She totally disappeared when I chased her!"

"She's scared of the dark, probably wanted to get out of it as fast as possible. And she didn't disappear, she just came into my room."

"She's so, so... pale!"

"Yeah, it's a clan thing."

Yuuji stared between the visible portion of the girl's face and Megumi's. He brought his thumb and forefinger to his chin and narrowed his eyes.

"I thought the Zen'in were all dark hair and brooding? And you said Tsumiki was older than you!"

"Are you being serious right now?"

Yuuji had the gall to look offended. Megumi, while typically mild-mannered, is actually close to snapping. It's the middle of the night, his sister is upset, and Itadori's brain is running even slower than usual.

He sighs and grips the little girl tighter. His face must portray how irritated he is, because Yuuji starting to visibly sweat. He looks nervous, if not a little ashamed. It must be dawning on him how absolutely ridiculous this whole ordeal is.

"First of all, you've only met me and Maki. Zen'in don't have a standard look. Second, Tsumiki is older. This is Saori. I have two sisters. Third, she's very obviously Gojo's kid."

"Gojo has a kid?"

If looks could kill, Itadori Yuuji would be a dead man right now.

"Yes. She's staying on the grounds while Gojo and Y/N are away on business. Were you not paying attention when Yaga was explaining this last week?"

Heat flooded Yuuji's face. No, he hadn't been listening. Megan Thee Stallion's new album had just dropped and he had his headphones in throughout the entire meeting. He shifted on his feet, not knowing how to answer without further infuriating his friend.

Megumi let out the most exhausted sigh he could manage and glared at the pink haired boy.

"Go to bed, Itadori."

He turned around a took a single step forward before pausing. He swiveled his body just enough to side-eye Yuuji. The look was different than the one from a moment ago. It was more pointed, damn near threatening.

"And Itadori?"

"Y-yes?"

"If you ever scare my sister like this again, I'll be sitting front row of your execution with popcorn."

And with that, he went straight into his dorm, gently sliding the door shut behind him and leaving Yuuji in the dark.

He couldn't help but think that, while Fushiguro's threat was still heavy in the air, at least he didn't have to worry about the ghost anymore.

- - - - -

"Yuuji!"

Said teenager whipped around, his smile growing even bigger at the sight of his favorite teacher. For just a moment, the recent slipped his mind. He was too caught up in the crushing hug Gojo had caught him in.

"I heard Saori gave you quite the scare, kid."

As predicted, he'd been teased relentlessly over the past few days. Word about the supposed ghost and its not-so-heroic capture spread pretty quickly (small school and all). By lunch, everyone had made more than their fair share of jokes at his expense.

"Please don't tell me you're going to make fun of me too, Gojo-sensei,"

The older man laughed at the pouty face Yuuji sported. He set the boy on the ground and let one his big hands come down on top of his head to ruffle the pink locks.

"Wouldn't dream of it!"

Relief drowned out any lingering worry, but it was quickly washed away when Gojo leaned in a little too close to his face, a sinister smile stretching across his face. He used his index finger to pull his blindfold up just enough to make eye contact.

"No, see, I came here to tell you that Saori is my baby girl, and if you ever manhandle her like that again,"

He paused, a bone-chilling chuckle falling from his lips.

"Let's just say I'll make sure you have a closed casket at your funeral."

Before the words could even process in his mind, Gojo was already securing the cloth back into place. His typical grin had returned and stepped back to greet the incoming second years.

Yuuji visibly gulped. What was it with people threatening him? It was an honest mistake!

[marzipanandminutiae]

I cannot figure out where to get informstion relating to this, so I am asking you, sorry if it's a bother

Would male club going attire, especially in queer clubs, at around the turn of the century simply be a fancier suit (and an ebroidered waistcoat for the aesthetes among them) or was there some male equivalent to dresses a là Madame X, for lack of better way to explain it?

I think we may run up against a misunderstanding of the term “club” as pertains to this particular time period, For starters.  in the modern sense of “a place where alcohol and dancing are the main focuses, along with possibly meeting romantic and/or sexual partners,“ the term didn’t really exist. Some dance halls were kind of like that, although they varied from seedy to bordering on wholesome family entertainment. I’m sure there were some that were unofficially known to cater to queer people, especially queer men since there were somewhat more complex social rules around women going out to places like that on their own at all, but it still wasn’t quite the same as a modern club. “Club“  referred to a social gathering place, usually for upper class men and very occasionally women (gender segregated). There could be raucous parties at certain men’s clubs, but that wasn’t the primary purpose.

Now, to go to the local Dance Hall What Has Somewhat Lax Morals By General Standards(TM) most men would just wear their normal “nice but not formal” clothing, whatever that might be. Probably trying to match whatever they thought the beauty standard for their preferred demographic was, but you wouldn’t really see much that was as flashy as you’d get at a club nowadays.

Also note that frequenting dance halls and pubs was considered adventurous slumming at best and dangerous/vulgar at worst, for upper-class men. They’d mostly have potential partners introduced to them by friends- or MAYBE meet them at the aforementioned raucous Fancy Gentleman’s Club parties and such. Classism was strongly in play here.

[darkwing-ramblings]

What makes a happy silmaril?

For context we must consider that the silmarils are written as living is not intelligent beings in a way and that they were derived of trees and so are a probable never-before-seen-gem-plant-hybrid-creature-with-opinions-just-no-mobility. Also I am @darkwinganimus by another name, to be clear, and this moves a previous discussion @eri-pl and I were having in the replies of one of their posts over to a format with no restrictively frustrating word limitation.

As @eri-pl puts in their Silmarillion reread part 6: "They loked like diamonds, so canonically white-ish. their fire is made of mixed Treelight, so I would assume warm white is canon.

They shone like stars of Varda but had real life inside — I really need this in English! OK, I googled it.

OH. Something else but: "he pondered how the light of the Trees, the glory of the Blessed Realm, might be preserved imperishable" — It may be me jumping on things + Tolkien's poetical wording, but this seems like a strong suggestion of "Fefe wanted to jump higher than his head" (he was not the first one) and sheds a light (pun intended) on his sttitude towards the Silmarils later.

Anyway back to that part about life: "and yet, as were they indeed living things, they rejoiced in light" So they are living things, not just "like" living things. Silmarills = baby Trees is canon! (OK, somewhat canon? but they *are* alive, and by logic they must be bred not made-in-the-strict-sense by Feanor)

So they glow by themselves with warm white, but also they are iridescent like diamonds. Beautiful indeed."

(Opinions such as disliking Morgoth then Carcaroth enough to burn him when the former wore them in his underground torture fortress Angband and the latter rudely ate them).

Anyway, the discussion points I actually want to raise are below, now that the nature of the silmarils are established as probably-living- beyond the possibility of poetic and figurative language along those veins merely sounding cool- is explained:

@eri-pl Hmm, okay, so per your reply attached to this post "Melkor (to be precise this was his name at that point :D ) wanted to kill Feanor anyway. He thought Feanor would be home too, iirc from the book. And still, Fefe could have worn them to a well-guarded situations, at least. But he was too paranoid." let's imagine Feanor takes the measure of no vault and just wears the silmarils everywhere, because he's pretty sure no one else distrusts Melkor enough to be sufficiently on guard. Melkor now has no reason to attack Formenos during the party so I don't know waits to ambush Feanor travelling on the road back from it, directing Ungoliant at the trees for a distraction etc and stealing the silmarils+killing Feanor as planned. Good for Melkor he achieves all his goals.

I humbly ask how this then might end up in your opinion better for the silmarils in question, aside from more time outside out and about Aman in sun years per your "Feanor wearing them might have ended up better for them anyway. At least he could have worn them to well-defended occasions (like That One Party), but he didn't because he was paranoid about the normal Valar too.". Because without Feanor and with Finwe alive there a question of if the flight of the noldor even happens afterwards- which they were agitating let's assume so and skip the how-that-happens/goes for now- and about the oath.

Now the oath is terrible for most beings involved, yes, but is it terrible for the silmarils themselves? It's a force of dedicated warriors specifically trying to retrieve them from Melkor their evil abductor- a force of dedicated warriors who make their retrieval from Morgoth so fraught a topic Thingol invokes it in an arguably rash and spur of the moment to Beren arguably meaning "I-would-see-you-dead-before-I-give-permission-for-you-to-marry-my-beloved-daughter-go-die-to-Morgoth-and/or-the-feanorians-over-a-silmaril".

It sees one of them get out of Angband in the hands of Beren and Luthien and enjoy free-range-ish years in the open then ultimately make it to Earendil upon Vingilot's prow. Earendil and Elwing's arrival with said stolen silmaril also helps petition aid from the valar in the war of wrath successfully leading to one ending up in the ocean (not terrible for pseudo-plant-gem-creatures as an environment) and a random volcano that maybe also got swallowed by the sea (at least there's no Melkor and it has possible gem-friends in its volcano). If there is no oath all of the latter is in question and whilst things could end better for the silmarils probably (and definitely those who died because of the oath on both sides, but that's not the focus here) they could also end up worse.

Now, Feanor's son's swear the oath of their own initiative when he begins to but on their own with him dead it's not exactly assured say Kanafinwe is going to see to it a very similar one is made.

I understand entirely that it is a lot of words however so won't be offended if you'd rather call it a day/don't actually read this all. Either way putting it together in one place has pleased me greatly whether any response, staggered yay or nay, results.

[felinisnoctis]

Chaos Prime: The trio reaches Terra

Thanks to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for Hura (and a lot of dialogue help) and @sleepyfan-blog for Cedric.

Other tags: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams

Content warning: injury, blood, attempted kidnapping

Mic woke up face-down in the mud with his mechadendrites forming a protective coat over him. He was pretty sure he was leaking oil into the dirt and his mechadendrites twitched uncomfortably. It felt like several of them were probably broken in a few places. It felt like his hip had shorted out as well, and he couldn’t move his remaining flesh arm. Where exactly was he? He’d been in the warp, and something had come through the hull of the ship, so he’d attacked it. Not very successfully he had to admit.

Nearby someone nuzzled his neck to check for breathing, fangs brushing against him. He swiveled one of the still-working mechadendrites to take a look before using it to shove at the individual on top of him. “Batsy, move.” he managed to send out, his voice crackling from internal damage. Batsy pushed up off of him, wings propelling him up to just above the ground.

“You two are still alive? Good. Let’s get going. I can smell someone else nearby” Felix, the third member, appeared from behind a tree. Mic groaned and tried to get up but couldn’t. “Boss, I can’t.” Felix looked over the grounded tech-priest with a frown, poking him with an armored boot. “You sure you’re not just being lazy?”

Mic yelped as the boot touched his hip. “Yes I’m sure, and there’s a rock under me and it hurts. I’d get up if I could.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go find something for you. Try not to get killed in the meantime.”

“I’ll leave Filth here behind to guard you.” As Batsy chimed in, a bloated, mangy rat with various patches of some sort of mold hopped down from his shoulder and perched on the fallen tech-marine.

“Thanks, I think.” Mic grumbled into the earth.

Meanwhile Cedric was out picking mushrooms - Hura had been showing him which ones were good to eat - when he heard ceramite boots behind him. Turning to look, he saw a strange marine in defaced blue and gold armor. Cedric suppressed his instinctive growl and instead turned to greet the stranger. “Greetings, I am Apothecary Cedric. What are…”

Any further words got cut off as the stranger interrupted him. “Apothecary? Good, you’re coming with me.” Immediately as he finished speaking he rushed Cedric, who mentally cursed his lack of armor as he dove out of the way. “HEY! LET GO!” He reached around for anything he could use as a weapon, grabbing a nearby large stick and breaking it across the helmet his attacker. Which didn’t do a whole lot but did stun him for a fraction of a second.

A second figure swooped into the clearing. Batsy had chosen to fly behind Cedric, trying to grab at him from the air. As he dodged the first marine recovered his senses and reached out a foot, tripping Cedric down onto the muddy ground. Both of the chaos primaris descended on top of him, attempting to pick him up and pin him at the same time.

“Please put the apothecary down and tell me just what is going on here” suddenly a massive death guard loomed over the scrap, frowning at the two chaos marines attempting to drag Cedric off. Felix stood up, brushed himself off, and attempted to look Hura in the eye.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was your pet. We have an injured brother that needs attention.”

"He is not a pet," Hura said with a deepening frown, at the same time as Cedric snarled “I am not someone’s pet!” from his current position in the mud. The death guard looked him over long enough to determine that he was not in need of medical attention before turning back to the others. "If you are in need of aid, ask for it."

Batsy stood up slowly. Fully upright he was huge, with wings of multicolored skin spreading out behind him as he tried to balance on his injured leg. He would probably have looked menacing if not for the utter confusion radiating from his tilted helmet. “Aw but I wanted to taste him. He looks like he’d taste sort of tart, like those drinks with the fruit flavor.”

“Batsy, please shut up.” Felix snapped at his bat-winged companion.

“But I’m hungry!!! And I can smell his blood from here.” Batsy whined back.

“We need to get Mic patched up. And you.” Felix tendered in reply.

"Touch me without permission and I'll kill you," Cedric snaps at the trio of Chaos Traitors, not stopping the low growl that was emanating from his chest as he stood up and brushed clumps of muddy grass from his uniform. Batsy flashed the pair of long fangs that had grown through his helmet at the templar. Cedric squints up at him, "Chaos twisted you a lot, then again, Nurglite Chaos Marines tend to be... large and gr-greenish in color." He bit back what he was about to say, glancing over at Hura.

“Please refrain from biting the loyalist, he might die from the infection. We’ll find you some appropriate food once everyone’s been tended to,” Hura reassured the giant bat-astartes, not making any visible response to Cedric’s near slip.

The pair headed off in the direction Felix and Batsy indicated, Cedric trailing unhappily behind the death guard. As the got to the clearing the plague rat sitting on Mic’s back chirped out a greeting. Hura looked at it intensely for a moment. “Well hello there little one. Is this my patient?” The rat moved chirped again in assent.

“I call him Filth. He has a real name but I’m not supposed to tell anyone. He said I shouldn’t use my real name either.” Batsy explained to the group, not noticing the death glare coming from Cedric. The rat gave a friendly little squeek as Hura scooped it up in one hand. “Oh! You can call me Batsy. The one in the blue is Felix and this one on the ground is Mic. Mic can’t really stand up right now. Do you know where we are? We were in the warp and then something went wrong and now we’re here and this doesn’t look like the warp at all.”

Both Cedric and Hura were thinking about how to best report the knowledge of a daemon on Holy Terra itself. Cedric was additionally considering whether he could requisition a flamer from one of the Salamanders. Daemons were’t really his purview, that was usually for the Grey…nope, not going there, not even in his mind.

“Apothecary Hura. Cedric, if you could see to Batsy’s leg while I patch up Mic here and explain a few things to the group?” Cedric opened his mouth to protest, realized he was outnumbered and unlikely to survive a confrontation, and closed it again, while Hura gave a by now rehearsed speech informing the new arrivals about their current location and the behavioral expectations.

None of the three chaos marines commented much about being on Holy Terra. Felix did, however, struggle with some of the other information. “I still don’t understand how this isn’t your pet, but you don’t want us to take him. Is there a finder’s fee we should be paying first or something?” Cedric growled at the former ultramarine in response. He’d probably bound the bandages on his patient too tightly, but it was hard for him to care.

“You know, it’s a good thing I was nearby when you found him, and not one of the others,” Hura tells the Chaos trio, "or that Roland and Arnault weren't closer. The Emperor’s Champion might have just decided to kill you. Despite the treaty. As would several others, if Apothecary Cedric were to go missing." Hura paused for a moment to let all the implications sink in. “Perhaps this would be a better discussion to continue at the chaos base. I can escort them there while you take your foraging back to your brothers.”

It was only after Hura left with the three chaos marines that Cedric realized the exact implications of what his exam had found. Mutated as they were, the underlying anatomy was that of a primaris marine. Traitor Primaris. Something he had been assured repeatedly was not possible because the new marines could not turn traitor.

ADDENDUM: MY NOTES ON FAMILIARS

So if anyone doesn’t mind spoilers, yes the little rat is a daemon. My idea for this is that familiars that are already bound to a suitable space marine may be brought back to earth with them. However the power of such a familiar are severely curtailed, making them generally little more than an unusually intelligent beast. They are also unable to stray too far from their bound marine without experiencing distress and eventually weakening and dying.

Basically, little Filth here is for all practical purposes, a very smart rat. He can’t manifest powers on Terra and it probably wouldn’t be possible to actually summon a daemon in this AU. It might be possible for Batsy to use him as a focus for minor powers. But mostly he’s cute in his own disgusting way.

[paperglader]

they really put alicent in bridgerton blue on the reunion and genuinely expected me to think that she didn’t in fact march all the way to dragonstone to get wifed up? bfr

[thedreadvampy]

sometimes I forget that my experience has been. um. not 'your experiences are not universal' vibes but more like 'your experiences are EXTREMELY atypical'

[claitea]

whoa guys did you see the new cards i really want alto's full art!!

made with this site! art without the text under the cut :D

[figofswords]

anybody remember the stephanie brown essay I was working on under a research grant fully last summer? yeah it’s not done yet it super needs to be done and I’ve been avoiding working on it for weeks. someone tell me to just do it already

[toytulini]

if you draw enough monster ocs, when you go back to drawing a human character, it feels like "sameface syndrome" everytime, by virtue of their face being. human.

[ratwars]

If some official process takes someone 20 mins it will take me 2 hours and there will be like three different problems and I will be crossing my fingers at the mercy of the govt employee helping me hoping they accept my eternally cursed documents.

[blujayonthewing]

so in juniper's campaign we've just found ourselves in a high-stakes situation that I as a player do frankly find stressful and am anxious about, but hey hi also the DM was like 'okay here are the exact mechanics of how this is going to work because I don't want to surprise you with serious repercussions, also here are all the options you will have to try to do something about the situation-- [affected player] what do you think? honest feedback, I don't want it to feel unfair, I want to be clear that I am not just trying to kill your character, and if it ends up being badly balanced we can revisit it down the road' and oh my god I could COLLAPSE and WEEP with gratitude

[mars-ipan]

this is gonna sound incredibly virtue signal-y i fear but i have been feeling. so fiercely protective of all the transfems i've ever met lately

[piplupod]

sometimes i think maybe it's a good thing i'm so traumatized and fucked up mentally and emotionally bc then i never expect ppl to be kind or even just plain old nice to me, so when they ARE kind or nice i feel overwhelming gratitude and almost a sense of awe HFDSJKL like... i dont know if i would have had this appreciation for each little piece of kindness if i wasn't the way that i am. but also i know thats kind of an absolutely wild way of thinking about this LMAO

[sherlock-is-ace]

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