#because it's really unlikely that a piece of land that can be used by a single person will have enough tool materials to keep you going

[rhysintherain]

Watching Alone really drives home the low success rates of a single human hunter and makes you appreciate the value of food that can't run away.

It's also a really good example of how hunter gatherer subsistence works.

If you leave 10 humans in the environment with limited resources and no contact or rescue party, 9 of them will be dead in 90 days.all of them will be dead in a little over 100 days.

Even with 2 people, starvation tends to set in after a couple months.

And yeah, people from hunter gatherer cultures they'd probably be better at this than a bunch of Americans who do it as a side hustle, but there's only so much one person can do in one day. It's almost never enough.

It's too much for one human to collect enough berries to have vitamin c through the winter. It's too much for one human to hunt and process enough big game regularly to feed themselves. it's too much for one human to build an insulated home and then monitor their heat source to keep that home from catching fire.

It's too much to make and use sharp tools without injuring yourself, and it's too much to try and do all the work hurt if you do. It's too much to go out and find more food when your inability to find safe food made you sick.

On the other hand, if you put 10 people out in the environment together with limited resources and occasional contact with other small groups, you'd have a community that could last indefinitely.

For all that we glorify stories of the lone individual against the environment, it very much isn't how we evolved to survive.

[evilminji]

(O.O ) The PONDERING is back!

You know Walker?

One of the Zone's literal ACAB? We are shown in one episode, that real world items? Against The Rules(tm).

Now, that COULD just be HIM being An Asshole? But let's be real! Unlikely. Rules/Laws get made for a REASON, generally. Usually because someone ruined it for everyone by being an asshole. Taking things too far.

You start OUT with the obvious Rules. Like "Don't Tear the Zone Apart." And "No Genocide of Literally Everything Forever You Fighty Little Assholes" but over time? You have too add stuff. Like "George is Forbidden to use the fax machine and he knows why" and "Ice Lairs and Fire Lairs have to be X distance apart AND YOU KNOW WHY"

And? IS there a central Governing body, regulating the Zone Rules? Nope! Pariah's in nappy time! BUT the manic, Iron fisted, Obsessions of THE LAW across time and space are sure willing to step up and help keep order. It... KINDA works!

And they MOSTLY have the same-ish Rules!

Like NO FUCKIN LIVING WORLD STUFF. Because? To GET such contraband? You'd have to break containment of the Zone, go THROUGH a random ass natural portal, that may or may NOT be safe, may or may NOT ever RECONNECT to the Zone, to literally terrorize the unsuspecting living souls (assuming you can FIND any), on the other side, JUST to drag that shitty candy bar back home.

Leaking ectoplasm the whole time. Poisoning the air, land, and sea. Making NEW ghosts where there might not have been any. Effectively making you their deadbeat parent. Which is premeditated child abandonment. And you DEFINITELY didn't PAY for those objects. Thief.

So, NO. No Living World Shit.

BUT!

Like city states! The Area of influence each Law Man(tm) has? While wide and sprawling? Does NOT perfectly mesh together like puzzle pieces! There ARE dead zones. Lawless, "unclaimed" areas.

Which? Are not so unclaimed.

For just as The Law has it's Obsession? So too, has the Underworld. Shaddy casinos and auctions. Black markets run like street fairs. What some Ghost Weed? They can hook you up, man. Vinnie over there was a Runner during Prohibition. He knows where ALL the classy joints are.

He can hook you up with some REAL nice Living World collectibles.

From All Over.

And? I bet it's that LAST bit? That REALLY sparks Danny's interest. He saved the guy from the GIW, who may or may not have busted him trying to... uuuuh... LIBERATE, some fine scotch for the bar back Zone side. Who's to say, really? Regardless, Vinnie? Pays his debts, you here.

Beside... the feral little gremlin kinda scares him. Good quality to have, no question, but maybe cool it with the biting? You don't know where they BEEN. You'll get a disease.

Now... all you gotta do, see, is... *mutters* *map scribbling* *bad idea enabling*

Which? Constantine! League Members of your choosing! Like a field trip from hell! Some how in the SINGLE shadiest den of Obvious Criminals you ever did see. The sky is green and they aren't in their dimension anymore. Circle up! NOW. Young Justice shoved to the INSIDE of the circle, adult heros on the outside.

Constantine? Knows where they are and wishs he didn't. He... he's not sure he CAN get them back. Going to try obviously. But no one panic. Don't show fear. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. Start walking.

Danny? Loading up the speeder~ Christmas gifts for daaaays~~☆ Everyone is Salty but respectful, cause anti-ghost tech meant they couldn't steal it. They did TRY. But... fair play, kid. Nice ride.

Only? Right before he gets in to leave? Some vibrating blur shoots over? Talking fast and followed by an older blur? Oh hey, humans. Like... ALIVE humans. Sup?

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @nerdpoe @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

[sleepyangelkami]

so sorry you've been having a poor experience recently, i totally get it and i'm hoping to see you back in future, you're my favorite ellie author <3 sending love!

DON'T BE SHY e.williams

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 1.1K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - for as long as you've known, you'd always been shy, off put to any social setting. however, it's come the time in your relationship that you have to branch out and meet all the people ellie always talks about, shy or not.

 ☆ WARNINGS - pda, shy!reader, reader obviously has social anxiety though it's not explicitly said, mentions of dadish joel to ellie, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

if ellie had to describe you in one word, she'd have to go with the word 'flower'.

that's what you were. as delicate as they come. you would hum so softly and then turn pink when you'd been caught. you were always very much out of the way, making sure you were never deemed as overstaying your welcome or overstepping in any way really. and ellie on the other hand, she was nothing if not that large piece of grass in everyone's way.

you always told ellie that she was wrong.

she was well loved in jackson, whether or not she was inserting herself places that she did not belong. you didn't mind, in fact, you were right next to her, getting strung along the entire way. yet you never opened your mouth to complain.

because how could you? you'd be a fool to complain about anything while in the arms of ellie williams.

you and ellie's relationship was the most open yet private relationship in the entire town.

everyone knew you were dating, and i mean everyone. and yet, nobody knew anything that went on behind the closed doors of your home. that was partially your fault, always shying away and stating that you liked to keep things private for there was no reason for anyone to be in your business.

ellie would have stood on the tallest building of the entire town and yelled until her lungs went raw how much she loved you dearly, if you'd asked her to.

but she knew those kind of things didn't come easy to you.

when joel met you, he swore you were a mouse in disguise of a human. you stood sort of awkwardly, practically hiding behind ellie in any way that you could, fumbling with your hands and only speaking when it was damn near necessary. and when you did speak, the words came out quiet, sort of hushed.

"so, uh." joel cleared his throat, eyes scanning his own house as if to think of questions to ask you. his eyes landed on the desk that he kept the shotgun hidden in. "do you... work?"

he sounded unlike any parent you've ever heard before. he wasn't the type of parent to grill you, question what you do and how you do it, wonder if you can even do it right. he was simply making conversation.

and though you could see that there was no judgement in his eyes, you still felt yourself practically cowering away. "I garden." you mumble, caught by surprise when he questioned a louder "huh?" not hearing you behind your frail voice.

"she said she gardens." ellie spoke for you, giving joel a sort of look. "what? are you deaf?"

joel could only stare at ellie in bewilderment. there was no way she'd heard you so clearly? he couldn't hear you any more than he heard a flower sway on the grass.

joel soon learned to watch your lips as they move and strain his ears as hard as he could. it took a little getting used to but as he grew more comfortable around you and you doing the same, you too began making changes. you didn't hide behind ellie so much and you spoke at a normal volume. well, as normal as you could.

now, you sat stranded at the tipsy bison.

ellie liked to drink now and again which was why there sat a glass in front of her filled with whiskey. you sat at her side, fumbling with your fingers as she downed the glass without so much as flinching.

you always wondered how on earth she could do that.

you glanced away, soon finding the feeling of her fingers wrapping around yours. your head turned back to her, worry swirling in your eyes. "don't be shy." she spoke, practically cooing in your face. "they're really nice, i promise."

"okay." you breathed out though your nerves didn't calm. you really hoped ellie was right about these people.

"you'll be fine." she mumbled, pressing a kiss to your head. "my brave girl."

ellie had been with you for what felt like forever and yet you'd never had the courage to meet her friends, especially not the infamous dina and jesse that the whole town always fussed about. you were nervous, scared even and when ellie's hand came down on yours, you couldn't help but feel your face inevitably heat up.

the two came in not too long after that. and to your disbelief, they truly were all they were cranked up to be.

jesse joked a lot which made you much more comfortable and dina put him in his place when any joke got a little overboard which only made you feel all the more safe.

however, the feeling of ellie's hand sat on your upper thigh had your face and body feeling all tingly inside. you wondered if the others were judging you, you really hoped they weren't.

you were speaking, ellie's fingers dancing on your thigh making your words come out a little lower. "sorry, didn't catch that last part." dina spoke, her eyes sort of wide. you could tell she was listening and that she truly was interested.

as much as you tried, you couldn't stop the way your eyes flickered towards ellie. "gotta speak up, baby." giving your thigh a little squeeze. "they can't hear you."

you cleared your throat, face pink as you did what you were told, speaking up so they could hear you better.

ellie stayed by your side for the entire thing, fingers dancing around your thigh and hands gently tracing your waist. you knew how much the girl loved physical touch and she knew how much you loved it too. whether or not you were shy, it calmed you. sure, you were worried about pda and people seeing but there was much comfort in the way her hands danced around you, holding you close.

you waited until the two left to go get another drink from the bar before sighing, puffing out all the air from behind your cheeks.

all the nerves finally let loose as you realised it was all going according to plan. they liked you, or so it seemed and nobody had said anything mean. that's all you could have hoped for.

feeling the strain on your head from all your worrying, you found yourself pushing your face into ellie's chest, finally relaxing. "see? everything's fine. you did so good." her fingers moving towards your hair, petting you as if you were an animal.

"they're really nice." you spoke, trying to ignore your hot face from her praise.

"yeah." she nodded. "they are."

you turned your face up at her, giving her the smallest of smiles. her beautiful girl. "you should have let me meet them sooner." you joked.

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

[prismatic-bell]

I’ve seen some posts going around about how only dummies think nuclear power is dangerous, so I want to just put it out there, in the hope that maybe I’ll create a bit of understanding:

Provided storage space is adequate, I’m not afraid of nuclear power.

I’m afraid of THE COMPANIES THAT PRODUCE nuclear power.

Let me explain.

I know new nuclear power plants have more failsafes than there are stars in the sky. And that’s great…as long as they were designed correctly, the pieces were all manufactured correctly, and nobody lied.

I know nuclear power plants are subject to strenuous inspections. And that’s great…as long as the inspectors actually check everything regularly as scheduled and nobody lies.

I know nuclear storage barrels are safety-tested. And that’s great…as long as they’re manufactured correctly, buried where they’re supposed to be, and nobody lies.

Because here’s the thing. I’ve watched a pretty fair amount of videos on nuclear disasters both power plant-related and otherwise. And every single one, every single one, can be traced back to the same source: someone lied in order to save money.

Plant maintenance is neglected to save money.

Plant inspections are neglected to save money.

Plants that say “dear Company That Produces This Critical Part Of Our Infrastructure, this piece keeps failing even though we’re using it correctly, please advise” will get ignored or accused of lying/user error, so The Company That Produces Etc. can save money. One case I saw involved a piece of cancer-radiation machinery that was shooting people (seemingly) at random with lethal doses of radiation, and the production company went “we investigated ourselves and found nothing wrong, are you sure you’re not just stupid?” Turns out they’d never even included a user manual with a piece of lifesaving-but-also-potentially-lethal machinery…to save money. And there were many, MANY things wrong with the machine, actually, as was discovered when an outside agency did an investigation.

This is not a problem unique to nuclear power. But if a wind turbine is seated wrong, it can be dismantled and reseated elsewhere (expensive but not unfixable). If a coal plant catches fire (heaven forbid), the result is absolutely Really Not Good but the worst of it can be fixed in just a couple of years, and we understand the potential related health problems enough to treat them. If a hydro plant isn’t working right, it’s not going to fry the entire ocean.

But if a nuclear plant blows because—and again, I stress this is what has happened IN EVERY NUCLEAR DISASTER IN HISTORY—a company lied to save money, that’s 26,000 years the affected land may be uninhabitable. You can cover your face with a mask or shirt to get away from coal ash while you evacuate. There is absolutely nothing the average civilian can do to protect themselves from nuclear fallout while they evacuate. And unlike coal ash, just a few minutes of that initial radioactive exposure can be enough to kill you. There’s no going back, either—lungs can be flushed, but mutated or even shredded DNA can’t be fixed.

Let me be clear, I DO NOT want coal power forever. (To me, the future is solar.) I think it’s wasteful, environmentally toxic, inefficient, ecologically devastating and unsustainable. But I question if nuclear is the way forward not because of the dangers inherent in what’s in a nuclear reactor—I question if nuclear is the way forward because there are too many greedy people with too much to gain from pinching lifesaving pennies.

[obscenely-overdue]

[OOC] Weighted Pregnant Belly Instructions

Hi everyone! For those interested, I've jerry-rigged a method to pad/simulate/wear-a-fake-pregnant-tummy-for-kink-purposes with some real weight and firmness to it that I think people would like! It works very well for me but is also functionally a prototype/first pass at the idea, so there are certainly areas that it could be improved. (which is me saying "experiment and improve upon this, we can make it better!")

I'll preface this with the fact that, if you pay full price for everything involved, assuming you have NONE of it to start, it's probably about $120. That said, about $20-25 of that comes from a specific kind of pillow and blanket, which you very well may have, which would bring it realistically down to $100, and some of it is stuff which can be bought on sale pretty easily, which would land you in the neighborhood of $80. Again, it isn't cheap, but it has something not even a fancy Roanyer tummy has:

WEIGHT and BULK

It's also made of inconspicuous or otherwise easily hidden items, so if you have roommates or family who could see this stuff, it's great at being tucked away or hiding in plain sight. If you're curious, I have pictures, a shopping list, and step by step instructions, as well as some further tips and info. It's pretty long so I'm putting it under a cut...

Let's get started!

What you'll need:

One piece of fully body shapewear (the mauve one on top) and one piece of "tummy tuck" shapewear (black on the bottom). The full body one is about 2 sizes too big for what it's meant to do normally (so for me, an XXXL. This is the same shapewear I use for my squishmallow tummy for RP blog pictures), and the tummy tuck one is the "correct" size for my body (XL). The tummy tuck one gives you all the support, so you don't want it too oversized. DON'T GO UNDERSIZED EITHER as what we're going to load this up with is gonna cause some compression, and too much pressure on your abdomen can be harmful. When in doubt, go at your size or maybe one size bigger, but no farther. Both of these run $20-30 a piece at a target but also can be found on sale for $10-20. Target is going to charge you more than Walmart, and it doesn't have to be top of the line.

One soft, round pillow. This is like a $6 pick up from Walmart. It's not just soft from it's fabric, but it's specifically not firm to the touch. It's all give and is very malleable. Technically you could use a regular pillow too, but this being roughly disk shaped helps it do its job as basically the "lower belly" that keeps the weight from shifting too low.

An averaged sized blanket. Softer materials that fold and bunch up easier are preferred. You PROBABLY already have something that will work for this, but if you don't, again, Walmart will charge you like $15-20 for one.

And finally...

A 20 lbs kettlebell. This BASTARD is the single most expensive thing you'll need, and unfortunately is required if you want it to be properly heavy. This one came from Target, and ran me $55. You might think you want to go heavier, but trust me, this thing has all the heft you'll need. If you really want to, you could feasibly go for a 25 lbs. one, but those are even more expensive. The kettlebell shape is important because it's mostly round, unlike a dumbbell, so we can wrap it up and use it for a reasonably pregnant-shaped belly. A dumbbell of this weight might be a little cheaper, but if you're already going to drop $40 on an oddly shaped weight, another $15 so it can fit the tummy shape is worth it.

Putting it on:

[DISCLAIMER: If at any point something HURTS while putting this thing on or while wearing it, safely but quickly remove it. The weight is supposed to be cumbersome and a little uncomfortable for the fantasy of it, but if anything HURTS, something is wrong, and you need to take it off. If you lay on your back with this thing on for too long, get ready for ab muscle aches, possibly the next day, as your tummy will be supporting 20 lbs of external weight just pressing on it, and those muscles don't get used unless you work out. I've never worn this thing overnight to sleep, but I don't advise it, as extended period of compression can be harmful. Same logic as to why AFAB people who don't want visible boobs shouldn't bind for too long.]

Start by putting on the fully body shapewear, and then putting the tummy tuck shapewear over that. The fabric under my shapewear here is my sports bra, which isn't part of the belly process.

Next you're going to load the soft, round pillow into the full body shapewear. It's going to kind of fold in on itself and that's not an issue, if anything it gives a nice little landing zone for the next thing we're going to add.

Don't fight trying to get the pillow under the tummy tuck shapewear, right now just roll it down to your waistline under the pillow bulk like so.

Next you'll take your blanket, lay it out, set the kettlebell inside of it, and wrap/bunch it up. You want it something approximating 'round', making sure the kettlebell isn't going to roll/fall out when you pick it up.

Next, you load the wrapped up bastard in, setting it on top of the pillow. The kettlebell is going to shift, and try to sink deeper, that's fine, just maneuver it so it sits on the pillow, allowing the pillow to spread the weight more evenly.

Before you pull up the tummy tuck shapewear, it's going to look like this, notice how the bottom of it is lighter because that's all pillow, with the blanket over top.

Now comes of trickiest/most strenuous part, you gotta pull out the tummy tuck shapewear and get it out and around the bulk of your "tummy". You'll have an easier time if you pull the back part up a little first, so it's not fighting you, which you can see in the above photos. If anything starts to hurt during this process, stop and take it out, because likely something is too tight or too heavy.

Once the tummy tuck shapewear is pulled all the way up, it should look about like this, and you're loaded up and ready to waddle!

Notice how much more contained it all is? It's not spilling off of me anymore, it's firmly held against me. Now, just top with your favorite maternity shirt!

Or don't!

Now, clearly, it doesn't LOOK very pregnant. It's lumpy and awkward and it'll come out downright lopsided your first few times. But this isn't for taking pictures for an RP blog, this is for simulating something close to the feeling of carrying something heavy like a pregnant belly around. For those of us who can't or don't want to actually get pregnant, this is a decent approximate that's reasonable to buy and easily hidden. This is for nights after everyone else is in bed or you're home alone, and it can be a LOT of fun.

Great, now what do I do with it?

This is the end of the instructions and is more just ideas for some fantasy fulfillment. Feel free to drop your own ideas in replies or reblogs!

So something that sets this belly apart from just a pillow, or bunched up clothes under your shirt, is that it's very firm, and independently held against you. A pillow under your shirt is dependent on the shirt for structure. If you lift the shirt, pillow falls off. That is not the case here, so suddenly, you've unlocked the ability to put on too small clothes, or button ups, or robes, whatever, that's too small for you now, and can fuss and mess with it without affecting the stability of the belly. You can wear pants that don't button or simply bunch up under that heavy, firm underbelly. Hell, you can simulate getting dressed with a 20 lbs mass hanging off of you. Put on socks around this thing, it's the stuff of preg kink dreams!

Getting up and down, laying in bed and rolling over, the shit that's easy to do now, takes a LOT more effort all of the sudden. Again, I urge you not to lay flat on your back too much, because I did that while padding before bed, and woke up with some muscle aches centered on my tummy, in muscles that I hadn't used in god knows how long. Don't over exert yourself with this thing. I'm bringing this up a lot because I don't want anyone getting hurt.

Taking the stairs is nuts. Going up is way more effort, and going down feels almost hazardous as you wont have vision of your feet anymore.

If you're into the domesticity of pregnancy, try doing some household chores with this thing on! Loading a dishwasher, doing some laundry, maybe some tidying. I personally have found it weirdly exhilarating, waddling around loading the washing machine around this heavy bulk. Have fun bending over to pick up something you dropped!

Even just chilling and gaming with a lap full of heavy belly feels kind of new and exciting. When you're not used to it, even the mundane shit gets hotter with a tummy like this

That's about all I got. If someone else gets everything and tries this out, let me know your experiences with it and how you've improved it! I've had an ask suggest a weighted medicine ball, so that could also work if you have one you're willing to test out. Please enjoy, and share with your pregnancy loving mutuals! Thanks for reading!!!

[vibingandsimping]

Okay. First of all, you made me feel things for Haarlep with him wishing for more. I was wondering if you’d be willing to do a small one shot or headcanon about Raphael finding out about tav and Haarlep having secret feelings even though tav is supposed to be Raphael’s or something. I never knew I needed more of this till now thank you

Haarlep deserves more attention. I find their character so interesting.

You were in sorts with Raphael. You don’t know if this was cruel- but did you really care? The devil claimed you as his after pining since he met you in the Underdark. His diaries full of entries of you. All the things he wished to do to you and with you. The first time you visited the House of Hope was partially out of curiosity. A devil’s house must have some secrets, yes? It ended up with you tied closer to the devil. His little mouse, as he liked to say, all for him. Little did he know it was only because of the first night you spent with Haarlep. The way their lips explored your skin was so passionate. Unlike anything you’d ever felt before. In truth you didn’t wish to leave it. After the sex you two laid in bed and chatted for awhile. Haarlep, despite being an incubus, had a depth to them.

That’s why you let Raphael have his way with you. It gave you free access to his realm. You grew used to the chaos of the halls as you snuck to Haarlep while Raphael was away. You’d spend nights of passion and then talk tenderly til Raphael arrived. When his presence was announced, you’d switch and tend to his needs. Anything to keep him strung along and this little affair going. Since Haarlep belonged to Raphael they could never leave unless Raphael relinquished him or died. Each night of hiding became a heavier burden on your heart. Each kiss deeper and longing for a life without ties. This went on for months until you two grew sloppy. Comfortable in your routine of visits while he was away. When Raphael caught you laying in bed nude and smelling of sex. You thought it was over. Surely he’d chain you up or take Haarlep’s head for tainting his favorite mouse.

What you didn’t expect was his expression to be smug rather than shocked or wrathful. His gaze was predatory and gave you chills. “I am not a fool, my pets.” He began with a stride towards you two. “I pieced it together. Did you have fun, my mouse?” He closed the distance between you and grabbed your jaw. It wasn’t forceful but directed you to look at him. Only if you attempted peeling yourself away did his grip become brutal. Your lips parted as you uttered meek confirmation. The devil’s eyes landed on Haarlep who watched in waiting anticipation. He tutted at the incubus. “I’m not pleased with you playing with what’s mine, Haarlep. You’ve forgotten your place. Though, perhaps there’s something in this for me.” He let your jaw go with a wolfish grin. He thought this over if he knew from the start. He waited til the perfect moment to strike like the damn viper he was.

“You’ll get the Crown of Karsus for me, mouse. Like we agreed on. When you’re gone, Haarlep can please me with your body… and while i’m gone on business my pets can play with eachother. As long as you both remember you belong to me. I’ll let you keep this… what do you want to call it? Romance? Affair? Whatever, it matters not.” You weren’t sure to be pissed he was exploiting you two or thankful you were still alive and had permission to continue. He was right though. It mattered not, as long as you could keep Haarlep by your side.

You’d be his toy.

[milliebobbyflay]

Okay so I've spent a while thinking about how to word my actual problem with homestuck 2, and the works that make up post-canon homestuck more broadly. I think a lot of people resort to nitpicking bits of awkward writing or art in some attempt to pinpoint a source to an underlying sort of hollow uncanniness, which is funny because homestuck's supposed golden age of acts 1-5 are themselves FAR more of a tonally inconsistent mess of odd character beats, jokes that don't always land, and janky looking art.

Homestuck 2 has been written and drawn by very talented and passionate artists from the beginning, I think the actual issue comes down to a mix between the general pitfalls of hiring fans and the particulars of hussie's outsider background and unorthodox writing style.

First is the issue of hiring fans in general; while it can seem like an easy shortcut to finding talented writers already familiar with the voice and story of the original work, you have to be very aware of how fan culture operates. Beyond the obvious pitfalls that fans are unlikely to approach the story from a detached perspective, there is the larger issue that past a certain point fandom becomes essentially self sustaining. Once a fandom has existed for a long enough period, its most avid members have likely spent FAR more time engaging with other fan works than they have with the original art object. Fandom and the art it produces are, in this way, a sort of a folk tradition; artists are imitating and responding to other artists, characters become archetypes through which to explore certain ideas and dynamics, and the values and tastes of the most prolific and influential fan artists become as inseparable from a participants mental image of the character as the original work itself.

For an example, the affected theatrical mannerisms and cruelty Vriska adopts while in her Mindfang persona have become inseparable from the popular view of the character. Despite the fact that it's heavily signposted as a sort of role playing performance from the jump and she's more or less dropped it by the back half of the comic, it was nevertheless how she had acted in the bulk of her scenes around the time the ur-texts of homestuck fandom were being written, and as so an understandable misread of a character became inscribed into the fandom canon, and by extension her characterization in Homestuck 2.

All of this is extrapolated by the sort of unorthdox, building-the-plane-while-flying-it manner in which Hussie's writing style developed.

Based on his commentary, I get the sense that Andrew is an incredibly clever and thoughtful writer who lacks the theory and vocabulary to precisely describe his process. He tends to communicate in sort of abstract metaphors which aim to bridge the gap in explaining the actual conscious process he uses to plot his stories, but the way he talks about technical nuts and bolts writing craft stuff gives me the impression that his approach is largely intuitive, bordering on unconscious. He's a lot better at describing how he writes than what he writes or why.

You can of course piece a lot this together—his approach to art draws from the tradition of videogame spritework, where the visuals exist as a utilitarian vehicle for conveying information first and a work of illustration only inasmuch is needed to serve the greater story. His character writing draws more from a synthesis of literary fiction, sitcom writing, and "making up a guy" style posting humor, where characters are defined more by their life experiences and underlying psychology than by their goals and values, but also seem to have largely been constructed backwards from a starting point of a funny or interesting manner of speaking. Importantly though, I don't get the sense that these were conscious decisions, just that to Hussie they seemed like the logical way to approach these tasks, and I don't really think he could outline them in a way that would actually help a new team of creators grok how to draw and write in a way that feels like homestuck. I also don't think Hussie could actually explain the psychology that undergirds his character writing, I think he was mostly just drawing on his own life experience and imagining how this sort of character might logically speak and act.

As a novelist, and Hussie is one, both your thought processes and the sum total of your worldview and life experience are just as important to your work as the actual conscious decisions you're making, and I think that where there are gaps in understanding, the new writers are filling in the gaps with both a more conventional approach to the creative process and over a decade of accumulated fanon, and I think that's why homestuck 2 never really rises above feeling like a very well-made fanfic to me?

[widowsistersandfriends]

It's Time To Smile

Request: I’m so bad at asks sorry, but could you maybe write something for Scarlett/Florence/Lizzie (or a combo, up to you) x reader with some really gentle twords? Any ideas you’ve got are totally cool, but maybe tummy focus? Yikes sorry I’m the worst at asks but feel free to experiment!

Summary: The reader is a stunt double in the new Avengers movie and is struggling with her success in landing her stunts. Lizzie, Florence, and Scarlett know a way to cheer her up (lee!reader x ler!Scarlett x ler!Lizzie x ler!Florence)

Note: Thank you so much for this request! This is my first time writing for these three, so I hope I did okay! Hope you enjoy :)

Word Count: 1393

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You were working on a new role in a movie, but not the typical one people think of. You were the stunt double for Scarlett’s character Natasha in this new Avengers movie. Even though you weren’t one of the main stars or anything, you knew your role was crucial for the success of this movie.

Your athleticism and training had prepared you well for this, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any challenges. As much as you practiced, it was still difficult to land some of the stunts and you were starting to get frustrated with yourself. 

You sat alone during a break from filming, head in your hands. You were quietly whispering to yourself to get it together. While it was unlikely, you knew it was possible for them to replace you with someone better.

You were deep in your thoughts when you heard a voice.

“Y/N? Are you okay? What are you doing here all alone?” Lizzie asked, slowly approaching you.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I’m fine,” you said, waving her off.

“You don’t look fine,” Lizzie commented, taking a seat next to you.

You waited in silence for a bit, not knowing where to start. Lizzie knew your gears were grinding, so she gave you some time to think.

“It’s just…I don’t feel like I’m doing my job well enough,” you said with a sigh.

“Why do you think that?” Lizzie asked.

“It’s just that these stunts are really hard, but it’s my job and I can’t even do it right,” you said with frustration.

“Hey hey, it’s okay. We all know how difficult it is, and that’s exactly why we have you do them. We can do some stunts, but we can’t do them to your ability. None of us are here to judge you because you’re here to help us do what we can’t,” Lizzie comforted, while patting your back gently.

“I know, I’m just really hard on myself and I want this movie to do well,” you said, resting your chin in your hands.

“I promise you, you’ll land those stunts and we’re gonna break the box office with this movie,” Lizzie said, still rubbing your back gently.

You nodded, showing that you acknowledged what she said. 

“Do you believe me?” Lizzie asked.

You thought for a second before responding, feeling more playful now.

“I don’t know if I can trust someone who can’t do their own stunts,” you said cheekily.

“Oh you little turd! You’re not even my stunt double!” Lizzie responded, now curling her fingers to scratch and wiggle against your back.

You were caught off guard and yelped, arching your back and quickly trying to twist away from her.

“Stop!!” You pleaded weakly, backing up against the couch you were sitting on.

Suddenly, Scarlett and Florence entered the room, hearing your pleading and thinking something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” Scarlett asked, worried that you were hurt.

“Your little stunt double here was lacking some confidence, so I comforted her, but then she decided to be brat,” Lizzie said, smirking as you were squirming from her squeezing the back of your neck.

“Lehehehet mehehe gohoho,” you giggled, reaching up to remove her hands, which just gave her access to poke you in the ribs. You let out a bark of laughter before curling up into a ball.

“Wanna help me tickle her to pieces? Lizzie asked Scarlett and Florence.

“Yeah, I think she needs some cheering up right? She was sad earlier?” Florence teased, approaching you with an evil grin.

“No! Never!” You declared stubbornly, clamping your mouth closed and refusing to smile.

“Natasha 2.0, you know you’re outnumbered right?” Scarlett said, helping the other two pin you to the couch.

Florence sat on your legs and began lightly tickling your feet. You squeezed your eyes shut, bucking against them to throw them off.

“Awwww, what’s the matter, Y/N? Ticklish?” Scarlett asked, slowly rolling your shirt up.

She began to add in on the tickling, spidering her fingers up and down your sides. You let out a snort, but quickly covered it up as a cough.

“I heard that Y/N,” Scarlett said, narrowing her eyes down at you, as you avoided eye contact.

Lizzie joined in, holding your arms above your head and using one hand to tickle your armpits.

All three of them tickling you was too much to not smile, which you reluctantly broke out into one.

“AWWW there’s that smile,” Lizzie cooed. However, a smile is all they got…for now.

“We gotta find her weak spot to really make her break,” Florence commented, now getting off of your legs.

“Where’s your most ticklish spot hmm?” Scarlett asked, eyeing your torso.

“Why would I tell you that?” You asked, struggling to escape.

“Because we need to hear your precious laugh and make sure you’re all cheered up,” Lizzie said, poking around your torso.

You flinched when she poked around your stomach and quickly pushed her hands away.

“Oh? I think I found itttt,” Lizzie teased, as she brought your hands above your head again.

“Scarlett? Wanna do the honors? She’s your little mini me after all,” Lizzie suggested.

“Scarlett no!! I trusted you!” You croaked, begging her to not tickle your stomach.

“Oh I’ve so gotta see this,” Scarlett said with a grin. With that, she took her ten nails and dragged them over your soft bare stomach, making you twist and jump against the sensation.

“I’m hardly even doing anything,” Scarlett giggled.

“I knohohow buhuhut ihihit tihihickles,” you giggled, unable to hold them back.

“Oooh I hear some giggles,” Florence teased, as you blushed.

Without warning, Scarlett began to wiggle her fingers as fast as she could over any part of your stomach she could reach.

“WAHAHAIT STAHAHAP PLEHEHEASE,” you screamed, attempting to yank your arms down.

“Stop what? Tickling you? Making you laugh because you’re so extremely ticklish?” Scarlett teased, as you thrashed and jerked on the couch.

“YEHEHES STAHAHAHAP IHIHI CAHAHANT STAHAHAHAND IHIHIT,” You squealed, as she began squeezing the sides of your stomach.

You felt your eyes begin to water, so they gave you a quick break.

“Are you gonna let me go now?” You scoffed.

“Not with that attitude,” Lizzie commented, and switched spots with Scarlett. 

“Noooo plehehehease,” you begged, unable to handle much more.

“Please tickle you some more? You got it!” Lizzie said cheekily, as she bent down to blow three consecutive raspberries right over your belly button.

You screamed with laughter, eventually having it go silent.

“Wow that’s good,” Florence commented, as you rolled your eyes.

“Want some more?” Lizzie asked.

“NO! STOP I MEHEHEHEAN IHIHIT AHAHAHAHAHA,” you screamed with laughter, as she blew more raspberries all over your tummy.

“Wait, I wanna try something,” Florence said, switching spots with Lizzie.

“I promise this will be the last tickling you get,” Florence said, but you were unconvinced.

Florence slightly folded your waist band down, just enough to expose your lower stomach and waist.

You shook your head in fear, out of words to say or beg.

“Cat got your tongue?” Florence asked, before using her two index fingers to scratch away at your waist, causing you to twitch and jolt every which way, while you begged for her to stop through your laughter.

“Two fingers is all it takes? That’s insane,” Florence commented, as she now spidered all over your lower tummy.

“MEHEHERCY OHOH MY GOHOHOD,” you cried, struggling to get any more words out.

“Oh alright, you’ve had enough,” Florence said, and got off of you.

The three girls helped you sit up and got you a cold cup of water.

“Feel better?” Scarlett asked.

“From being sad or the tickling?” You asked.

“Both,” the three of them all responded.

“I do,” you said with a smile.

“Even if it was torture for you?” Lizzie teased.

“It wasn’t even that bad,” you said, trying to play tough.

“Really? Do we need to remind you how ticklish your stomach is?” Scarlett asked, as you quickly said no and jumped away from them, leading to lots of laughs at your expense.

You guys eventually resumed filming for the day. Maybe there was magic in those tickles, or the threat of them, but you were able to master every stunt you did that day and the movie ended up being a big success.

[venturebeeloved]

Lifeguard Venture HCs

DON’T WORRY VENTURE NATION. I WILL HELP US COPE WITH THIS TRAGIC LOSS! This is definitely not me coping from not having venture content. Definitely not. Hope you enjoy!

TW: none!! This is very fluffy <33 like this is genuine fluffy brainrot. Reader is implied to be GN but can be whatever!

• For starters, they are definitely coworkers worth the rest of the baywatch squad (that’s what I call all the lifeguard skins now.) and they’re absolutely stationed near the ice cream stand.

• Probably looking around all the time! Can’t stay still and focus on one thing. They’re super attentive, though! They’d probably hone in on a kid getting too close to the water just to make sure everything is okay.

• Wears really funny sunglasses. Not like your average pair but those really funny tourist shop ones.

• They always have a smudge of sunscreen somewhere. Whether it be on their nose, chest, or back. They never manage to wipe it all away first try.

• Then along comes you!! And oh boy can they not keep their eyes off of you. Not like openly admiring, but they find their gaze drifting towards you when they have nothing to do.

• if you’re a coworker, they get ecstatic when you’re stationed next to them! They always want to spend their break near you, eating lunch or getting a drink.

• Do NOT flirt with them while they’re on the job, they will lose focus and flush brighter than any sunburn would be capable of.

• Needless to say, if you’re drowning, they’re saving you in an instant. Like leaning over you trying to make sure you’re okay. Nobody has ever seen them so distraught.

• Ice cream date? Ice cream date. They’ll talk all about how sand is formed and maybe take you beach combing for shells.

• Mauga is not a lifeguard, he probably runs the tiki bar. He and Sloan fight like siblings, constantly trying to one up each other. Very competitive volley ball!

• So imagine Sloan just walking by Mauga with you, a dumb yet smug grin on their face because they landed someone like YOU!

• If you find a piece of sea glass, you are keeping it, and now Rosetta has a partner!

• Maybe they’ll take the day off one day so you can have a proper beach date. You want to build a sandcastle? They’ll be the best architect ever. You just want to relax? Lay beside them or in their arms. You want to go into the water? Don’t expect them to play fair when the water guns come out.

• They make sure to educate you in proper beach safety, including very uncommon threats like washed up jellyfish or whales (VERY unlikely, but they just want you to be prepared!)

• Pet names would include “my pearl”, “my treasure”, and “my sunshine”

• If you have top surgery scars, that’s alright! Sloane has them too! They encourage you to not be ashamed about wearing a swimsuit that shows your scars. If you still don’t want to, that’s okay! They want your comfort.

• At the end of the day, they’ll wait for you at the beach and walk home with you, holding your hand and telling you stories of things that happened before or during the day!

• They’re glaring at anybody who is staring at you, or trying to flirt with you. That person is lucky they’re on the job so they can’t truly protect you, but that doesn’t mean they won’t blow your whistle or try to keep you near their chair.

• THEY DIG HOLES IN THE BEACH! Their favorite thing to do is dig, dig, and dig! If they find anything under the sand, they give it to you as a gift.

• They’re like those brown Labradors that come back golden after digging in the sand

• Call them a golden retriever they’ll melt

my asks and requests are open!! Feel free to drop ideas. I have an idea for a marine biologist reader x lifeguard venture HC / Drabble, so lmk if you’re interested in that 🐝

[dumbslxtclub]

I seriously love your writing. Can i request eddie kissing reader just outta nowhere ( hes really fucken smitten with her) and readers just fucken shocked and stunned and doesnt really kiss back because eddies with chrissy and reader is chrissys best friend. Eddie seriously forgot he was with chrissy and realises he fucked up.

let me put my lips to something | e.m

eddie munson x fem!reader

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, reader is 19, anxiety, ANGSTY angst, fluff, no use of y/n, weed consumption, cheating (eddie kisses reader while with chrissy), cliffhanger (kinda) ending but it's definitely not happy

word count: 2.7K+

a/n: my first request eeeeee!!! thank you anon for this one, such a delish challenge to write and I loved every angsty second of it xxx

part one / part two

The slightly skunky haze of smoke from the crackling joint perched between your fingertips intermingles with the balmy Spring air, filling your lungs with the promise of warmer days to come. The first mild night the town of Hawkins has been granted, a desperately needed reprieve from dark nights arriving prematurely and wind-chill cold enough to ice your bones. 

A blanket is rolled out on the dewy grass behind Eddie’s van, the pair of you laying heavy on the polyester fabric as you succumb to intoxication, music lightly thrumming from the car’s stereo. Your secret lookout point, discovered years prior, overlooking the sleepy town twinkling sporadically as its inhabitants close the book on another day. The first daisies of the season spring up through the unkempt grass before you, dipping down into a steep slope of neglected land. Your own personal haven, shared with your best friend, the place you go when Eddie mutters through the corded phone “meet me at our spot”.

Eddie and you first grew close in sophomore year, sharing a mutual love for all things fantasy, having shared a slightly tense stand-off in the library over its tattered copy of The Hobbit. Eddie did not expect you to yield so easily, used to having to stand his ground when faced with any confrontation. But, with a warm smile, you suggested you didn’t need to re-read it just yet, passing it to his uncertain hands. With a simple gesture, you plucked the first of many bricks from his hard exterior, offering him kindness to which he wasn’t accustomed. He couldn’t believe that you, a beautiful girl, could see him as human, more than the reputation that preceded him. And thus, your friendship blossomed.

An unlikely duo, but you collected a rather eclectic group of friends. Cheerleaders, science nerds, outcasts, it didn’t matter to you. You sought out the best in people, looking beyond their stereotyped roles in the small-minded society, wanting to surround yourself with people who made you smile. Eddie loved that about you.

Matter of fact, he loved everything about you. He loved how your bedroom was unabashedly you, eclectic in every sense of the word. Posters of heavy metal bands lived in harmony with Broadway Playbills, crisp tennis shoes and graffitied sneakers sitting at the foot of your bed. It’s like you collected pieces of the people you loved, keepsakes of your time together and shared interests to show off to the world. 

He loved how unafraid you were to announce your friendship, calling his name out with a cheerful wave through the crowded hallways on the dreariest of mornings. It gave Eddie something to look forward to on his lowest days, where getting out of bed was a drag. The assurance of seeing your beaming smile enough to get him through the doorways of the school he loathed.

And he loved how you took an interest in him. Patiently listening as he explained the rules of DnD, inviting you to campaign nights to which you happily celebrated the group's victories without an inkling as to what was actually going on. Getting dragged to obscure concerts out of town, driven by the promise of getting to spend time with one of your best friends. How you got along with Wayne like a house on fire, helping him prepare all sorts of meals with plenty of leftovers to spare that he could take to his long overnight shifts.

Eddie had a lot of love to give. Which makes the complete misplacement of his feelings all the more tragic. 

They say sandbox love never dies, which is the case for you and Chrissy. The closest of friends since elementary school, her contagious positivity rubbed off on you in the best of ways. She supported you no matter what, and you did the same for her. And so, when she asked if you thought she should invite Eddie to the Homecoming dance last year, you ignored the pitfall in your stomach, shoving the harbinger of jealousy down and encouraging her to do so. You anticipated that it would be a one-off, the two having never spent much time together beyond exchanging pleasantries. But, as it turns out, they meshed together perfectly, like slotting pieces together from two separate puzzles.

In one fell swoop, you lost craved time with the two of your best friends as they elected to spend more time together, a relationship quickly blooming between them. If you and Eddie were an unlikely duo, Chrissy and Eddie were like chalk and cheese. 

And yet, somehow, it worked. 

From your perspective, anyway. 

Like all relationships, you’d hear about how they naturally clashed. Eddie had no interest in going to Chrissy’s basketball games, casting you in the role of mediator as you dragged him to watch his girlfriend perform. And you patiently coached Chrissy through the little knowledge you’d accumulated through the Dungeon Master, whispering in her ear while the two of you spectated another campaign. But at the end of the day, they both seemed happy enough. And that’s what mattered most to you, regardless of your mounting feelings for your metalhead friend. The sinew of your cheek felt the brunt of your anguish as you clenched tender flesh between your teeth while you’d watch Eddie whisper sweet nothings into Chrissy’s ear across the room. The edges of your nails finding solace digging into your soft palms as he slung his arm around hers at the cafeteria table, watching as she occupied the chair once reserved for you. Relishing in the delicious burn on your waterline as you squeezed your eyes shut, noticing Chrissy beelining towards you in the school hallway wearing one of Eddie’s bracelets. An unwilling masochist at the hands of your best friends, contorting your mouth into a smile to hide the civil unrest simmering beneath your skin.

Tonight, you’d been whisked away from pressing History homework at Eddie’s request, receiving a phone call from him that he just needed to clear his head for a bit. Deducing that something must have happened between him and Chrissy, you asked him to pick you up along the way. The drive was quiet, Eddie plastering a fake plastic smile you were acutely accustomed to donning yourself, electing to once again prioritize your friend’s needs above your own.

And now, just like old times, the pair of you lay parallel to each other, gazing up at the clear night’s sky. It’s been clear that Eddie is not in the mood to talk about what happened, so you steer clear of the subject. Instead, you exist in comfortable silence, passing the burning joint between you while your limbs cement themselves to the ground. Limitless sky existing in front of your hazy vision, the question slipped out from the deepest recesses of your slightly-stoned mind.

“Do you ever think about the universe?” As you pass Eddie the butt of the joint, you tilt your head towards him. He chuckles at your obscure question, placing the rolled paper between his plump lips.

“Oh god, you’re not about to dump today’s Physics class on me, are you?”

“Shut up, that’s not what I mean.”

His eyes flutter closed as he exhales a plume of smoke skyward, stubbing out the remaining embers onto an ashtray beside him.

“I mean, yeah, sometimes. Tried to count all the stars in the sky once, but fell asleep before I finished the job.”

A grin takes over your face, shaking your head. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to count, good for you.”

Eddie hisses, his hand flying to his heart to cover the metaphorical wound.

“Ouch, that was cruel, princess.” You’d never admit how the nickname made your heart flutter, breath slightly hitching at his words. “But tell me, Professor. What are your thoughts on the universe?”

Blurry eyes gaze up at the stars, twinking in the black sheet of night vast along the landscape. 

“It’s just weird to think about, like, how insignificant we are.”

“Bit pessimistic, are we?” Eddie quips.

“It’s not pessimistic! It’s freeing.”

“How so?”

Each breath feels labored, grounding yourself as you find the right words.

“I mean, there are billions of universes just like ours out there. And we’ll never know about them. In the grand scheme of things, we are just a blip on the timeline, you know? A hundred years from now, no one will remember our names. And we think everything is so important. Like, I saw Amy Dixon crying in the library the other day because she didn’t get a good grade on the Math final. Or I went to the grocery store last weekend and some cashier was getting screamed at because he overcharged a lady by two cents. Like, who fucking cares?”

“Right, so what’s your point?” Eddie’s tone is entirely curious, he loves digging into your mind, hearing your perspective on anything and everything.

“My point is, nothing matters. We literally don’t matter. We’re here, and then one day, we’re not. And I don’t mean that in a cynical way, I think it’s so freeing, you know? We can do whatever we want. Like, I don’t care what anyone thinks of me, or how they try to squeeze me into whatever box they think I should fit into. Because at the end of my life, when I’m all old and gray and sitting alone in my bed, I want to be able to look back and go ‘Hey, I don’t regret a minute of that’. Like, there was nothing I wish I’d done but was too scared to. I just want to be proud of how I lived my life, you know?”

Your rambling ceases, silence filling the air between the pair of you. Eddie doesn’t reply, but you do feel him shuffling against the blanket. 

“Sorry, that was probably boring and a bit weird-”

Two fingers softly pinch your chin, edging your face in the direction of your friend. Lolling your head to the side, you struggle to decipher Eddie’s expression in the dusky night. You can make out his two big brown eyes boring into you, minutely darting around your face, drinking in your features. He shuffles closer to you, hand still planted on the crook of your jawline. Time feels like it’s moving in slow motion. Every action languid, moving slowly, then all at once. Warm lips crash down on yours, sending shockwaves through your system. Melting at his touch, you relish the sensation of his soft lips intermingling with yours in the most sensual of embraces. The intensity of the moment caused you to cling onto him as the only stable thing in a dizzy world. A potent cocktail of chemicals flood your brain, far more intoxicating than any drug, leaving you aching for more. But you know you can’t. Or rather, you shouldn’t.

Pulling away, eyes wide as you study your best friend, who pinches his eyes together from the sudden loss of contact. 

“Eddie, why-” You begin, unable to string a coherent sentence together with the amount of blood erratically pumping through your veins.

“‘M sorry. I had to do that, just once.”

Tears prickle the corners of your dry eyes, burning your waterline as you fight them back as shock behind to set in. Eddie, on the other hand, looks like the weight of the world has just been lifted from his shoulders.

“What- what about Chrissy?”

“Who?” Surely he’s not serious.

“Chrissy? Your girlfriend...”

Eddie winces at the mention of her name, shrinking into himself.

“Fuck. I- uh…”

“What?”

“I sort of, like- forgot about her for a moment.”

You’re incredulous, failing to comprehend how someone forgets about their whole significant other.

“What do you mean you forgot?”

“It’s just- fuck.” Eddie runs his hands along his weary face, waging a mental war with himself. “It’s like, sometimes, when I’m around you, everything else drops away. Like we’re the only two people in the world.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you push down the boiling pot of emotions bubbling in your stomach.

“You don’t mean that-”

“I do. I don’t know how, but you drown out all the noise. All the bullshit, the ideas people have of me, it- it all disappears around you-”

“Eddie, please stop-”

“-And I wish I had of told you that sooner, but then Chrissy happened- and I worry that, I don’t know, I’m in too deep now-”

“Listen, you’re just high, okay? We can forget about this-” Suddenly feeling entirely sobered by this exchange, you find the strength to prop yourself up on the blanket, wrapping your arms around yourself in order to self-soothe.

“-I’m not high. I’ll wake up and feel the same way tomorrow. Chrissy is fine but she’s- fuck, she’s not you. We’ll go to the cinema and see some stupid romantic comedy, and all I want is to look over and see you.” 

“Stop it.”

“Or I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and roll over and wish it was you asleep next to me.”

Bile builds in your throat at the mere thought of them occupying the same bed.

“Eddie, please-”

“And shit, I never should have said yes to her. I always knew I’d break her heart, it’s so fucked up.” Eddie’s word vomit continually spills out, you’ve never seen him so unfiltered. And it’s starting to scare you that he may be telling the truth. Finding the strength in your unsteady legs, your feet meet the ground beneath you, trying to put further distance between you and Eddie. Your heart aches like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, like you’re somehow suffocating from the inside. “I’m just- fuck, I’m sorry.”

A dense silence occupies the space between you, neither of you sure where to go from here.

“I’m not the one you should apologize to, Eddie.” Oh my god, how are you going to begin to explain this to Chrissy? The thought of losing her, the one stable constant throughout your life, prematurely breaks your heart. Your palm clasps over your mouth, shaking your head like trying to erase an Etch-A-Sketch, remove the image of Chrissy’s wide eyes as you relay what’s just transpired. The dam breaks, and the first of many tears spills down your flushed cheeks. How you wish things were simpler, wrapped up in a neat package like the happy endings you see in films. 

“Shit, I really fucked up, didn’t I?” Eddie’s voice quivers beyond your glossy vision, tugging at your heartstrings. Unable to speak, you give a half-hearted nod in response. Eddie clears his throat. “Guess you’re right. We should just forget this happened, okay? Just go back to the way things were, if that’s what you want.”

A fate worse than death, existing the way you have been for months on end. But what other choice was there?

“Yeah.”

With a sigh, Eddie methodically folds up the blanket, throwing it into the back of the van.

“Let’s get you home, it’s getting late.” The drive home is silent, but the words left unsaid between the pair of you are deafening. You should feel grateful to see the familiar paneling of your house, the front left on welcoming you home. But, as always, it signals the end of your time with Eddie, heart aching from the admissions dancing on the tip of your tongue. The car gears click into park, and your unsteady hand finds the door handle.

“See you tomorrow.” Three unimportant words now charged with tension, the mere thought of seeing the pair at school tomorrow causing your stomach to flip.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s response is mumbled, taking a particular interest in the worn leather of the steering wheel. Chewing your lip, you click the door open, about to maneuver out when Eddie’s words immobilize you. 

“Hey?” For the first time in the eternal drive, Eddie works up the courage to look at you directly, doe-eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment. 

“Mmm?”

With a sharp inhale of breath, Eddie struggles to maintain his gaze, brows furrowing as he nervously fiddles with his rings.

“I’ve fucked up a lot of things in my life, but I’ve been thinking about what you said. And, at the end of my shitty life, I’m gonna look back and not regret kissing you. Not for a minute.”

Those words are your springboard out of the vehicle, closing the door behind you with your little remaining composure, hastening up the driveway and through the front door. Locking it behind you, you feel your chest tighten and ache with longing and regret. 

You hope things will return back to how they were. But, in the back of your mind, a small, selfish voice prays that they don’t.

[fireemblems24]

Golden Wildfire Ch 11

On we go to ch 11. Things are . . . uh . . . interesting.

MAIN STORY

So if you didn't see ch 10, I failed to recruit Byleth. I retried the level a few time, but honestly I just want to finish this game so I didn't bother.

Plus, the reason I failed was that Claude just sat there instead of moving forward on the escort mission, which got really frustrating, and honestly I didn't want to bother.

Ugh, I don't want to fight the Kingdom.

So those Houses that wanted to defect to the Kingdom didn't because Claude's battle was that bloody in that fire map.

Poor Dimitri and co seems like he's just betting bullied for no real reason by two imperialistic maniacs.

I love how Arval is getting snooty over Shez getting credit for their tactics lamo.

Man, this dialogue is dragging.

So Nadar is going to cause diplomatic chaos by utilizing the Almyran army without getting real permission.

Wait, Claude riled up Sreng? So much for "ending racism" lamo. Wasn't having two cultures not be prejudice against each other like his MO? The writers really just threw him in the trash, hunh.

I feel so bad for Claude fans. He's really a piece of work in this.

MAP/SIDE STUFF

Everyone missing Judith has a lot more punch than Randolph. Even Monica was like "get over it" to Fleche (but nicely).

So, let me make sure I have this right. Mr. I Want to End Prejudice Between Cultures just provoked Sreng into attacking the Kingdom so Edelgard can take it over because Rhea is the reason for everything bad. Did I get that right?

Unlike SB, GW is entertaining as hell, but man is the logic here is just non-existant. And poor Claude RIP.

Like, I know I'm biased and all, but I don't see how you're supposed to be the heroes and not Dimitri here. The people just defending themselves are getting attacked on all 3 fronts for the crime of *existing.*

Not going to lie. I kinda wish Claude didn't side with you in AG either. It would've been hype to kick everyone's ass as Dimitri after getting cornered by all these land-grabbers.

GW!Claude is really just the mean girl's sidekick. 😂

If Felix and Rodrigue die in this chapter I swear to God . . . (I just remembered Rodrigue is dead in SB now 😭 - LET THIS MAN SURVIVE).

I had to fight Felix in a side mission. Lysithea said they had to "defend this place" - like, girl, you are invading.

When the challenge is "you can't dodge" but you're using Lorenz 😌👌 (FYI, he just does not take damage in this game)

SHEZ & HILDA A SUPPORT

They're talking about how Hilda exerted energy in a battle because she worried about Shez.

Hilda claims it's just self-defense bc she was cheering for Shez on the front lines and enemies were there (honestly, this is pretty boring so far)

It's the same-old Hilda claiming she's weak but that not being true.

SHEZ & CONSTANCE C SUPPORT

I know she's an Empire character, but whatever.

She wants to create new magics to restore her noble house and wants to research Shez bc of their weird magic

Lamo, Constance low-key called us dumb

Shez suggests she get her house back through military accomplishments.

Constance refuses to train right now, she wants to at night (it's her dual personality thing, right?)

CLAUDE & LYSITHEA B SUPPORT

Their first one. Claude's unhappy Lysithea charged in the last battle. But Lysithea kicked ass, so she's upset with Claude.

Claude calls her plan dumb and that he thought Lysithea was smarter than that. Lysithea still argues it ended earlier bc of her.

Lysithea doesn't back down.

Honestly, I side with her here. Claude's being patronizing. And it's rich of him not to care about all the other deaths dragging out the battle would cause and only Lysithea dying because she's *important*

CLAUDE & HOLST A SUPPORT

Oof, this one hurts. Claude accuses the church of creating all the systems to serve their own interests, because he doesn't know the truth here. That the Empire actually created most of it, and that all the church ever did was protect a genocided race from being murdered by more power-hungry humans.

It's also hysterical to hear Claude talk about wanting to improve foreign relations while instigating a war between two cultures.

Oof, Holst doesn't care about any of this. He's only worried Claude's going to send Hilda to marry a big, brown, scary foreigner. NOT a good look.

Holst says he cares more about Hilda's future than the whole Alliance. Yikes.

HILDA & HOLST A SUPPORT

They're preparing a feast.

Oh, it's nice to see Hilda's insecurities about Holst's "perfection" come up in this, bc so far she hadn't said much.

After that last support though, Holst is actually a pretty shitty leader.

Holst wants to make the feast all about Hilda instead of himself though. Hilda likes the attention.

Hilda basically had to set up her own feast lol.

HILDA & LINHARDT A SUPPORT

Hilda's cleaning, and Linhardt's honestly upset that he's lost a fellow lazy person.

Hilda claims she never pushes work on people. That, is a lie.

Linhardt is mostly worried how bad it'll look if he's the only one not working instead one of two.

All this support confirms that Linhardt is by far the superior lazy.

LORENZ & LYSITHEA A SUPPORT

Their only support.

So, not related to their support (and watch it counter it), but I find it pretty amusing how getting a leadership position faster matured Felix and Sylvain, but Lorenz is still a bit of a joke and the butt-end of every support he's in.

He's just bragging about how awesome his position and power is.

Lysithea says she's not inheriting her house. She claims it's because she doesn't like what comes with nobility, but we all know why.

She worried that the land will go to chaos without it's leaders though. Lorenz offers help (which, imo, he's actually mature here!)

Lorenz suspects she's turning it down for another reason and encourages her to rely on others to help.

RAPHAEL & LEONIE B SUPPORT

Raphael keeps snapping bows in half when he uses them. Leonie's shocked.

Leonie seems to actually make one and invites Raphael to test it while on guard duty with her.

IGNATZ & MARIANNE B SUPPORT

Marianne found his picture. He puts it down, but she likes it (it's a horse, well a pegasus, but of course)

Ignatz gets carried away talking about it, but Marianne finds it cute.

Ignatz finds Marianne loving pegasus cute. She blushes.

He wants Marianne's help, helping him paint a pegasus bc they don't like men, but if Marianne is around he can get closer and get a better painting. She's happy to help.

Honestly, this whole support is really cute.

MAIN BATTLE/STORY

It sucks having to attack the Kingdom over and over again when all they want to do is exist in peace.

Oh, joy, Nadar wants to plunder Faerghus. I can see why Fodlan is so evil for not wanting to let them do what they will.

GW really had a chance here to finally do something interesting with Almyra. It even marketed itself as a route that WOULD. But instead it's just doubled-down on Almyra being a one-note lawless place full of barbarians. At least we have Brigid and Duscur so the only brown country isn't some racist stereotype. Since it's only 1 of 3, it's not AS bad of a look.

Fuck. I don't want to kill Felix and Rodrigue. It would be one thing if the Kingdom actually provoked this, but Felix and Rodrigue haven't done anything to deserve this.

I get to recruit Ashe again. Is he miserable here too?

Ugh, I was hoping Felix and Rodrigue weren't here. It seems vastly unfair that it's only Kingdom characters who die for reel in this.

Wow. Claude's really an A-class asshole. He told Ashe to surrender because Dimitri wouldn't want him to die. Maybe don't invade for no reason then?

Is Claude also going to single Felix out as a citizen of Faerghus who deserves to live? Or does only Ashe count and not the nobles and unnamed grunts he's slaughtering because he decided to team up with the person who plans on taking over his rule? (not hate to Ashe at all, I honestly feel awful for him in this game)

Ok, so fighting Felix is just a side quest. I'd rather fail a side quest than fight Felix so, going to try to avoid having to kill him. Ugh, he's attacking the engineers. And he's damn right saying he has every right to kill the people who are invading his home.

Thank God, he just retreated.

I still love how Claude got bent out of shape over Ashe, but Lorenz alone has killed 500 citizens of Faerghus this chapter so . . .

Felix is so worried about Rodrigue. I swear the writers wanted you to feel like shit playing this route.

Oh, fuck. Just when I thought I was finished killing people for defending themselves, Daddy Gautier shows up :( He's sacrificing himself to safe Felix and Rodrigue, isn't he?

Oh, fuck. He died for real 😭

It's really hard to like these characters, making mindless chit-chat after killing Sylvain's daddy. I hope Sylvain fucks them up a new one.

I've never wanted to slap a character more than I'd love to slap Claude right now. The moron has the audacity to be surprised people are going to die while he's invading a foreign country. What a fucking stupid moron.

He's also blaming - get this right - chivalry.

I'm like. I'm speechless right now.

That's right guys. Margrave Gautier died defending his king, his country, his home, and most importantly one of his fucking best friends from an asshole invader. But it's CULTURE'S fault he died.

I'm really confused what the hell Claude thinks he's doing. Does he REALLY think killing Rhea will magically allow people to live as they please? Didn't he grow up in another country where they had princes and shit and NO Rhea?? All he's doing is making Edelgard's take over easier.

This is starting to feel like a borderline spoof. Look at us end the war by invading another nation!!! I mean???

What's his plan? Kill everyone in Faerghus - profit - "freedom" from Rhea - Edelgard takes over - no profit???

The writing in this route has gotten really fucking stupid. Like, I LIKE the idea of evil!Claude. Either a Claude who wants to take over all of Fodlan or one who's ruthless and will do anything to preserve Leicester.

But what I don't like is really fucking dumb Claude, which is what GW's devolved into.

Oh, God, now we get a flashback between father and son. Sylvain and Gautier :(

Sylvain better not be fucking recruitable in this route.

Now Sylvain's in charge 😭😭😭😭

I'm convinced someone who's a major Edelgard stan wrote the larger plot of this, but then a Dimitri stan wrote the actual dialogue 😅

We really go from one moment Claude being like - it's Rhea's fault Gautier died bc Kingdom culture bad because church bad to Sylvain being like, naw, he died defending his friends.

At the very least, I'll give Hopes credit here. At least they didn't write anyone opposing Edelgard as either evil or like they're idiots for resisting invasion, but I almost feel like they made the Kingdom especially too sympathetic which makes Edelgard look more interesting (since SB is more honest than CF) and Claude just look like a bozo. Rhea just doesn't look like anything since she's not even here.

Though, I REALLY wish Claude didn't side with us in AG. I really wish we got to see Faerghus backed into a corner and kick everyone's asses. They've very much the underdog and watching them do that would've been awesome.

Felix and Rodrigue are beating themselves up over this.

See, this is what I mean - Sylvain just said he's reserving all his hatred for the foreign invaders who take everything for no reason - I really feel like a Dimitri fan saw how everyone collectively decided to take a dump on the Kingdom in the big plot and got revenge by making everyone look like villains (or morons in Claude's case) for doing so in the writing.

xxx

[kobb4ni2]

Here's a good one!

Sea Serpent Reader ranking on who she loves to visit the most!

YEEES YEEES I LOVE TO DO RANKINGS

And uuuh I REALLY GOT CARRIES AWAY SO IM SO SORRY ABOUT THAT😓😓

Least Favourite to most favourite place to go list by [Name]

Mariejois: Celestial Dragon and when there’s a Reverie there’s gonna be a lot of snobby royals she has to protect. Should I bring the list. And the same goes to God Valley.

Marine Headquarters: Sea Serpent! Reader is almost ALWAAAAYS there because of strict rules, the reason why it’s not the same rank as Mariejois, it’s because of the few good marines there like Coby, Corazon, Fujitora and etc, but she’s always trapped there either at meetings or at her room that the Gorosei made for her. They won’t even let Sea Serpent! Reader have student of her own!

Enies Lobby: It bring bad memories especially the gate of justice, the place just shows how corrupt the world government and how they will do anything to keep anyone shut, the lengths they will go for no secrets to leak out.

Dressrosa: It’s a wonderful country with beautiful culture, dances, food and people but most of the “people” there are toys. Doflamimgo reassures to you that nothing wrong with the country even though you senses tells you otherwise. No matter how gorgeous the country is there’s a gut feeling that something is incredibly wrong

Wano: While at the gorgeous capital of Wano, resides or at Onigashima, everything you want will be at your knees (cuz ur tall teheheh). Everytime you wake up in your futon you’d be gifted with flowers that was hand picked by one of the Tobi Roppo or even King, Queen, Jack themselves. And when you eat glistening meat and tasty juice are prepared at your table with a sober Kaido, it’s a wonderful place he’s but the treatment of the people makes you feel guilty whenever you eat even one piece of meat. The pirate world is extremely harsh.

Egghead: You may be a history geek but you’re not one to deny anything that strives to be futuristic, the human mind or the mind of others is extraordinary. It’s a wonderful place that you must be extremely lucky to even step foot in it. Even though it’s a government land, Egghead gives Sea Serpent! Reader a lot of freedom. But the dark stories that King told about made Sea Serpent! Reader back off to Egghead island especially when Vegapunk was the one deducing the experiment and the pacifistas were the ones to fully show how bad it is to Sea Serpent! Reader’s eyes.

Totto Land: Land of a Yonko and the commanders or higher ups of the Big Mom are enchanted by you. People there are incredibly nice to you, at the castle of Big Mom, her younger children would always bother you always asking when are you gonna be called [Name] Charlotte, if you look around you can see the 3 sweet commanders having a big blush on their face, Katakuri raising his scarf while daydreaming the day of your wedding and when he as to put a ring on your finger and after that you bend over to kiss him on his lips, Smoothie turning her head around so her hair could block the blush adorning on her face, Cracker using the palm of his hands and secretly biting on it, trying his best not to scream that he’s still not married yet, all 3 are just imagining how your future kids will look like <3

Amazon Lily: Not only is this place made surrounded with your Sea King friends but it’s an island full of women! You never felt so comfortable whenever you’re there! Boa would daze at you as you munch at the feast she prepared but unlike Wano, the residents there aren’t being mistreated too much unlike Kaido.

Sabaody Island: Your good pal Raleighy and his wife- Shakky now resides there as commoners, late night talk with them with alcohol in your, Rayleigh and Shakky’s systems, such conversations are accompanied with laughs underneath the orange light, with Rayleigh’s voice slowly becomes much more deeper as he leans closer to you, Shakky’s hands slithering on your legs like the former Kuja princess she is, Shakky may or may not have put your glass with a much more stronger alcohol. Wait I’m getting carried away.

Baratie: The food are absolutely amazing there! The conversation with Zeff and the oceans are amazing too!

Skypiea: The Sky brings the ocean its natural blue hues and to touch the fluffy clouds were one of the many dreams little snake [Name] wanted to walk and when [Name] found out that there was indeed a sky island, she immediately went to work to how she can reach that island, and oh boy why she not disappointed. So if the sky is not the limit for adventures what is? Such question made Sea Serpent! Reader yearn for more adventures with Joyboy.

Zou and Fishmen Island: Both are close to her heart, Fishmen Island was made from her hands of course she has a deep relationship with the island, like a mother to her kid, the same thing goes to Zunesha that’s carrying Zou, [Name] likes to visit the minks from time to time, they even make a whole town feat whenever she comes to visit they know how valuable you are, the little minks are always on your side asking about your adventures which you joyfully tell. At the end of the day when every mink is asleep you would softly talk to Zunesha, both your conversation would be complied with the water splashing of each step Zunesha takes.

Logue Town: "The town of the beginning and the end" When Sea Serpent! Reader woke up there was this instinct to go to the place, and that’s when she met the future Pirate King - Gol D Roger.

Laughtale: The legacy of Joyboy and precious place for Sea Serpent! Reader.

Zacharias Barnham of you can hear me, please inquisitor of the underrated game of Phoenix Wright vs Professor Layton please save me🙏🙏🤞🤞🤞

[zenscrypt]

"on feathers and dreams"

read it on ao3!

Rated: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Content Warnings: possession, brief self-harm (ender king hurts purposefully hurts phil's body), drowning, brief vomiting

Summary:

“This is what happens when mortals steal from gods, crow,” the King snides, narrowing his eyes as he clenches the fist tight. “Now, quiet down. I think it’s about time I’ve rested, now that you’re out of the picture.”

Somewhere in his monologue, the King doesn’t pick up footsteps somewhere behind them -- but Phil does. His ear feathers twitch.

A soft voice calls out, “Phil?”

-- A self-imposed exile leads to a reunion.

You.

His skin writhes with an intruder's presence.

“What about me?” he rasps, aching eyes watching the ocean underneath him. The sun had set moments ago -- maybe hours, but he’s stopped counting -- and now, the waves lap at the cliff walls with a hypnotic motion. How long has it been now? Weeks? When was the last time he slept? Ate? Did anything besides stare vacantly at the endless horizon and entertain that nagging voice in his head.

Every part of his body aches since that moment in the forest -- he had to wrench the control away at each second, demanding the movement of his own body. His eggs had run from it. His body remained frozen so he wouldn’t chase after them with the dagger in his hand. The backpack is gone. He’s powerless.

Even his voice comes out wrong. His vocal chords are wrung from two warring voices fighting over them, a deep snarl so unlike what his body is used to, and his normal voice. It’s all… wrong.

Let me out.

The voice hisses, sharp and ringing in his head. It has no face, but he still raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Is that the best you can do?” he scoffs. “No. You’ll have to beg harder than that if you want to escape so badly.”

A quiet sea breeze rustles through his feathers. It all feels still, peaceful, static. Normally, he would be lulled to sleep by this, but something in his body refuses to let him sleep.

When he looks up, the void stares back at him.

What a familiar face. Distantly, he thinks of it as home. The night sky, free of twinkling stars and suffocating clouds, just a vast emptiness for him to soar through. This island was nice, but it was only a vacation.

The End was where he belonged.

Let me out.

“You can keep demanding that,” he sighs, disappointed. It’s like he isn’t even trying. He’s bored by each attempt because it hasn’t changed. Has it been days? “I won’t give it back so easily at your request.”

You will pay for this.

“Will I, now?”

Give me back my body.

The voice rumbles now, deep in the back of his head -- and his wings flare. “Your body?” he hisses sharply. Indignation rushes through him. His body? Does he even hear what he’s saying? “What makes you think this body is yours? It’s always belonged to me. Has your greed gotten to your head?”

You are so full of shit.

There it is.

His lips twist into a grin that stretches too thin on his cheeks. “Oh, crow,” he croons, “do you really think your insults will do anything to you like this?”

Fuck. You. Ender.

He laughs, louder, booming off the cliff face. “Face it, Philza. You’re useless like this.” The King taps his claws — his claws, not flimsy talons, dripping with the tears of the void — against stone and rolls his neck back, spreading out his wings. His wings. “Be patient. I haven’t had my fun with you yet.”

Do not hurt my kids.

“And what will you do about it?”

The King’s mind falls silent.

He hums. Typical. All bark and no bite from this little pest. “Try to take your body back. Speak for yourself if you think you’re strong enough,” he goads, returning his gaze to the void.

Die.

A laugh erupts from The King’s chest again. That really is the furthest he could do, isn’t it? How pathetic. “I will repeat this until it finally sticks to your feeble little brain, Philza: we are one and the same. You conquer every new land you’ve traveled across and steal every last piece of valuable treasure from its habitat -- and you say it’s for protection. For your safety. For your eggs. Do you really believe that fantasy that you’ve made up? Do you really think I would believe these lies you tell yourself? We both know the real reason you claim all of these things for yourself. Right?”

I didn’t take them.

The audacity. The King’s wings flare out again, feathers standing on end with rage and the pulsing amethyst light branding into his skin. “Do not lie to me, Philza.”

I didn’t take your fucking wings.

“Do not lie to me!” he roars. His fist slams into the ground, knuckles first -- and the King hears bones snap and break with a grotesque pop. This mortal body is just a puppet for the King to control, so Philza is the only one to feel the pain receptors firing. He hears a sharp, pained cry in his head and Philza’s pitiful voice finally quiets. Insolent brat.

The King lifts the damaged appendage with a flat stare. The stone underneath his first had cracked under the force, but Philza had a fast metabolism, so the hand slowly began to repair itself before the King’s eyes. It was hardly fascinating. Dragons could regrow heads.

Once it fixes itself entirely, the King rolls the wrist to test it out. It must still feel tender or sore, because he feels an involuntary flinch in his wings. He has to bite back a snarl. Of course Philza picked his wings for that.

“This is what happens when mortals steal from gods, crow,” the King snides, narrowing his eyes as he clenches the fist tight. “Now, quiet down. I think it’s about time I’ve rested, now that you’re out of the picture.”

Somewhere in his monologue, the King doesn’t pick up footsteps somewhere behind them -- but Phil does. His ear feathers twitch.

A soft voice calls out, “Phil?”

---

He didn’t hide his location on the map. It had to be a sign.

Missa had to believe that.

He told Phil he would protect him. As best as he can, with all of his willpower. Sure, he isn’t the strongest and he can barely hold his sword right sometimes, but he made that promise to Phil and he intends on keeping it.

“Tallulah… Tallulah told me,” he says to the black wings shadowing Phil’s seated form. The moon sits high in the clouds and against his back as Missa takes a step forward. It’s almost eerie, how still Phil’s body went at the sound of his voice. Just moments before, it was bellowing with a voice so unlike Phil’s, Missa was convinced somebody else -- something else -- was here.

Rose-weaved signs flash in his head. [ he… he hurt me ] [ but papa is still in there ] [ i know he is ] [ i dont know what to do apa ]

Chayanne had disappeared too. Part of Missa hoped he would find his little egg here too, along with Phil, bantering as they farmed in a new location or sparring with Phil’s cawing laughter and Chayanne’s adorable quacks. It was… wishful thinking at best. He couldn’t just ignore Tallulah’s fears.

There’s no response, so he continues cautiously, “You don’t have to say anything. I just… want to know if you’re alright. I don’t think you should be alone.”

Phil’s head lifts. Blond strands roll over his shoulder, but he doesn’t look completely over to meet Missa’s eyes. “How did you find me?”

He… sounds fine. Maybe too fine — it comes out flat, lacking any of his usual inflections, and cold. If Missa hadn’t known any better, he would’ve taken that answer the second he heard it.

But he doesn’t. “I came as soon as I heard,” he murmurs, trying to see past the shadows of Phil’s face. There’s the faintest glow of something violet illuminating his face from a downward angle. Underneath his black feathers, a pattern of light pulses slowly, like a heartbeat. Missa doesn’t tell him -- them? -- how long it took. They don’t need to know that; as long as they-- Phil knows that Missa was looking for him, that’s enough.

“You’re too late.”

“Maybe I am,” Missa says without missing a beat, confident as he takes another step forward. Phil’s wings begin to spread and, despite the warning signs, Missa advances. “I’m always late, aren’t I? Phil-- I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t respect my promise like I told you I would. I woke up for Tallulah, spent as much time with Chayanne as I could, but-- I couldn’t do it for you. I’m sorry.”

The Ender King scoffs. Missa shoves aside the queasiness rising inside his empty ribcage, because they’re using Phil’s voice but it sounds nothing like him. He knows better. “Your apologies mean nothing to me. He’s too far gone to hear this. Leave me, or else.”

Or else. Or else what? Missa’s resolve burns through the dread that tries to freeze him in place. “Tallulah wanted me to tell you, if I found you,” he continues with another step, and another dangerous twitch of those obsidian wings, “that she forgives you for attacking her. You’ve always looked out for her and Chayanne -- that’s why you’re doing this now, right? You just want to protect them. She knows. She forgives you.”

Tallulah doesn’t.

That’s the thing. She was terrified at the thought of following after Chayanne to try and find her papa, conflicted because of the fear this deity instilled into her and her love for her father. She didn’t take to any of Missa’s reassurances -- she was as stubborn as her feathered parent, albeit so much more intune with her emotions.

More importantly though, Tallulah told him that Phil knows she wouldn’t forgive so easily. It takes time for her to recover from her wounds, no matter how fresh they are. Phil would know this.

When Phil’s body finally turns to look at Missa, his eyes are wide. “She does?” he whispers, in utter disbelief.

Missa nods. “I missed you,” he adds quietly.

…There’s truth to that one, unfortunately. It feels too easy, and he hates that it works. Phil’s body sways as they stand up -- and Missa rushes to close the gap between them, reaching for Phil’s hands. They’re almost unrecognizable now, covered with black scales and nails sharpened into something far stronger than this sharper-than-average, black-painted nails.

He’s always loved Phil’s hands. The few nights where they were under the same roof, he asked if he could paint Phil’s nails for him. It was something that brought unnamed nostalgia to Missa, a memory from his past life he couldn’t exactly grasp, and it was a fun night where they learned they could paint Chayanne’s nubby paws as well. Phil’s hands were always nice and well-kept.

Like this, they’re completely gone. Not to mention the black mass pulsating on Phil’s shoulders with that violet glow he spotted earlier. His nonexistent stomach twists into knots. He rubs his thumbs along gnarled knuckles and, holding eye contact, asks Phil, “Are you okay?”

Phil’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. The wind lets his hair sway, his wings ruffle, and the act is laughable. Missa almost feels insulted. “I’m fine,” they reassure Missa with no reassuring inflection. “Now, what did th-- Tallulah tell you?”

Missa glances away. “She… everything, Phil. It- it freaked me out a little bit, but-- are you sure you’re okay? I just wanted to come here to make sure everything was fine. I’ll leave if you want.”

Phil’s wings twitch again -- Missa’s starting to realize this must be an involuntary twitch, because the sigh they let out sounds… aggravated, and the wings tense against Phil’s back again. Missa tries not to let his surprise show. He’s still in there.

Behind Phil’s body, past his wings, the edge of the ocean meets the starry sky. It’s an impressive sight. They’re fairly high up.

“I told her not to tell any more people,” Phil’s voice says with another displeased sigh. His eyes lift back to Missa’s. Gone are the beautiful azure he loved so much, replaced with a cold, amethyst purple. When they look at Missa, it’s like they’re looking through him. “How much do you know? The King won’t be happy when he hears about this.”

You don’t seem like it, Missa thinks, unimpressed. He swallows and glances away from Phil’s changed eyes. “I- I mean, I can pretend I don’t know anything? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snoop.”

He’s still in there somewhere. Missa needs to get him back.

He… isn’t a fan of the idea he’s come up with though.

Phil’s eyes soften. He reaches up carefully with his unbroken hand, cupping the underside of Missa’s cheek in his black, clawed hand delicately, as if he were a flower. His touch is ice-cold against Missa’s wispy skin. “I’m sorry, my love,” he whispers, violet eyes searching his. “This is all my fault.”

Alright. That’s enough.

Missa slams his hands into Phil’s chest.

Lo siento, querido.

The cliff’s edge drops off directly into the ocean. Missa saw it as he paddled his boat to the island and worried, for the longest moment, that Phil’s distant figure was going to jump. Would he have flown, if he did? Did the deity Rose heal his wings like Chayanne told him? Would it be Phil that finally gets to spread his wings -- or somebody else?

Phil doesn’t fall. His only tether to stability beside his feet, desperately scrambling against the stony edge, is Missa’s hand, clenched around the collar of his kimono.

“What--” The King snarls -- his voice booms suddenly, unnaturally deep in Phil’s light voice and echoing over the cliffside.

Missa holds firm, staring down violet eyes stretched wide as saucers. He can’t hold this for long, but he keeps his stance balanced. There’s a chance this might not even work. Missa could be wasting his time.

Better him than Chayanne.

Phil’s wings pump through the air for his own balance. The flaps are stilted and uneven, strangely enough -- it’s not instincts trying to keep him upright. Something is holding them back. Is something trying to… keep them closed? Hope wells inside Missa’s chest.

The loud, thunderous voice quiets back to Phil’s as if nothing happened. “What do you think you’re doing?” they say incredulously, feigning innocence.

“Let me talk to him,” Missa says firmly.

They bat his eyes. “Talk to who? I’m right here, love.”

It’s all wrong. How smart does this thing think they are? Missa’s arm starts to shake with the strain of holding Phil’s weight -- so he gives the thief a thin, weak smile. “Philza never calls me love.”

Cloth slips from his hands, and Phil’s body plummets.

Without missing a beat, Missa dives after him.

(He really hopes the Ender King is allergic to water.)

There’s barely enough time for Phil’s body to rotate and catch the airs in his wings for flight. Those huge, black shadows billow in the wind as the thing controlling his body thrashes, suddenly out of his element, eyes stretched wide and fear in their grimace. Those wings have been broken for so long. Maybe, if they had the chance, they could’ve flipped around and taken control of his flailing body as they fall.

Missa can’t let that happen.

It’s a horrible feeling, taking hold of Phil’s wings in the air. Claws flash, but Missa grits his teeth through the pain and the cold drip of his blood down his face to hold Phil’s body as tightly as he can. Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento, lo siento.

Faintly, as the ocean below swallows them whole, Missa wonders… if Phil could fly, would he take Missa with him?

The water around them makes everything go blurry, sluggish, heavy. Missa is naturally weightless, but the armor he’s wearing lets him sink further down. More claws swipe at him until their squirming gets to be too much -- they break free with a sharp knock against Missa’s jaw and shove him away.

The Ender King’s eyes are terrified. They’re holding their breath, eyes wide and furious when they glare at Missa, but quickly, they look back up to the surface above them and try to swim for it. They kick Phil’s legs and pump his wings frantically -- Missa panics, thinking they’ll manage to escape the second they break free from the ocean’s grasp -- but then, Phil’s wings stiffen up. Their eyes shrink even further.

“No!” they screech, and all of the air rushes out of them in large, globe-like bubbles. As loud as the voice once was, the water muffles the booming effect, as if trying to silence his cries. “Stop-- give me back my body, you--”

All of Phil’s limbs freeze in their scramble. Missa watches as they try to suck in another breath and only take in the seawater, sputtering and seizing. It’s horrific, trying to watch somebody you love try to fight for control with no room to breathe. What is he supposed to do? What can he do?

The King continues babbling, voice growing shrill without any oxygen in his lungs, “Not again! Not again, I can’t-- No--”

Missa counts the bubbles rushing from his lips until there’s no more. The ocean grows still. Quiet. Phil’s body sinks.

Limp.

He’s going to die.

The realization spurs Missa into action immediately. He went unconscious, but Missa only has a minute until Phil dies and respawns somewhere else.

Hurried, frantic Spanish spills out of him as he takes Phil’s body in his arms and swims up to the surface -- Phil’s head lulls onto his shoulder the second they both break free. Land- land-- where--

There! Where Missa left his boat, a small shore under the cliff roof, but far away. Too far for Missa to reach with Phil’s -- heavy -- body in tow. Hastily, he searches his inventory.

It’s cluttered with random items he picked up along the journey after Phil’s map marker, but a singular enderpearl catches his eye. Thank the gods he decided to take it with him for some reason, as if he could’ve spoken with the Ender King through it or some shit-- it doesn’t matter. Missa grabs it and, without missing a beat, launches it in the direction of the beach.

As it flies, Missa wraps his arms around Phil’s body and squeezes him as tight as possible against his chest. Please teleport with me, please teleport with me, please--

Pop! Missa hits sand with a heavy weight in his arms.

It worked. He has no time to celebrate. Carefully, he adjusts Phil onto his back, taking as much care as possible with his wings, laying them out flat and not kneeling over sodden feathers, and his trembling hands hover over Phil’s body. The death counter ticks in his eyes. Fourty seconds.

And counting down.

Dios mio. What does he do?

Breathing-- is Phil breathing? He peels off his gloves and throws them somewhere in the sand, bones rattling in the dark wisps that make up his skin and making it nearly impossible to stay still to check for air. He hates how pale Phil looks, and the dark circles around his eyes, and the way his face is too slack -- is he breathing? If Missa’s hands would stop shaking--

Twenty-five seconds. Phil still hasn’t moved. Tears well in Missa’s eye sockets. Why hasn’t he moved?

Pulse-- check for a pulse-- please, why isn’t he-- it’s the best thing Missa can do, carefully pressing against Phil’s neck, trying to remember where the pulse point is. Twenty seconds. He bites his tongue to hold back a whimper. Phil, please--

Thmp. He can barely feel it. Thmp… thmp… thmp…

Is that--?

Water gurgles.

Immediately, Phil’s body seizes and water splatters from his open mouth -- Phil’s eyes shoot open as coughs rip from his throat. Missa retracts his hands with a surprised squeak, eyes stretching so wide it hurts but-- Phil?

He rolls to his side to dry heave, a painful, guttural noise that Missa hates, oh, Gods, please let him be fine. His whole body shakes with each retch. Missa, twitchy, anxious -- needing to do something because is it Phil, is he okay, how can he help -- finally gives into his urges and reaches over to brush Phil’s long hair out of the way as he vomits the seawater out.

When he finishes, Phil lets out a shaking breath and slowly, on shaking limbs, pushes himself up into a sitting position. Missa’s hands follow him carefully for support.

As he catches his breath, Missa hovers still. The silence wanes on. He can’t see his face -- his eyes, Missa just wants to check, dreading the sight of that same purple glow that’s still stuck under his feathers.

“Phil?”

His wings shift. Weakly, Phil’s head lifts to meet Missa’s seeking eyes.

Blue.

“Hey, mate,” Phil croaks, looking exhausted.

It’s-- Missa can’t help it -- an overjoyed sob escapes him, tears finally bursting from his eyes. “Philza!”

“Mis-- ouff--”

He doesn’t have time to return Missa’s exclamation the way they normally do before Missa collides into him all at once. A caw startles out of him -- so crowlike Missa is swarmed with adoration and endearment and relief. Phil’s okay, he’s alive, he’s back -- Missa has to bend down and shower his face in loud, blubbering kisses, vocalizing each with an exaggerated, “MWAH!” that makes Phil burst out into breathless laughter. It’s the only distraction Missa can give himself, trying so hard to keep his trembling bottom lip shut.

For Phil. For Phil.

“Okay, okay!” Phil laughs, craning his neck away for space but Missa only takes the opportunity to press his lips underneath his jawline and blow a raspberry against his skin. “What the fuck-- Missa! Chill out!”

His words are meant to be sharp, but he’s giggling like he’s drunk and Missa feels like it. It’s infectious; he feels silly laughing into Phil’s neck, needing to cling onto every inch of Phil’s skin he can reach, relieved and happy and so, so, so-- scared--

A sob tears out of him.

Missa has never been the strong one here.

“Oh, mate,” comes Phil’s achingly sweet murmur into his hair. Missa curls in on himself, into Phil’s embrace, letting the terror finally sweep over him.

Gods above, he almost killed Philza. He knows how painful death is for him, even if they respawn-- but if he respawned, he would be with Chayanne and Tallulah. He would’ve put them directly in harm’s way if he didn’t save Phil in time. They could’ve died because of him.

Missa wants to be strong for his family. He tells them, over and over again, he wants to protect them the way they protect him. He wants to be there for them when they need it. He wants to love them as much as he can.

But he can’t. He’s gone so often, and he can’t help it -- can’t help it when Death calls back to him in his sleep and he loses himself in his past again -- no matter how much he tries. If this plan of his failed, his kids would’ve been through the same thing. Gone, except, unlike him, they won’t be able to escape.

How can a protector do that? How can a father do that to his kids? He doesn’t deserve the title of a husband, much less a parent. All he does is sleep and dream, and-- and--

“I’m sorry.”

Missa hiccups. Phil’s voice vibrates against where he’s buried himself against his throat, his hands loose where they’re wrapped around Missa’s back. He leans just as heavily onto Missa, muttering, “This is all my fault.”

What?

Phil sucks in a breath -- and Missa hates that it sounds shaky like his sobs, which can’t be right. “I should’ve- I should’ve known he was coming after me. All of the warning signs were there. I took that stupid backpack without even thinking about it, and look where that fuckin’ got me. I’m-- god, I’m fucking stupid. The worst fucking dad.”

What? No, no, no-- Missa lifts his head away with his eyebrows knitted together, finding Phil staring resolutely away from him, his teeth gritted and eyes glimmering in the moonlight. That doesn’t make any sense. Why is he blaming himself? What is he blaming himself for? A deity possessing him? Is he being ridiculous?

“Phil, what are you talking about?” he whispers.

He watches Phil grind his teeth and give a very forced, controlled exhale through his nose. His eyes shift down to the sand underneath him, the space on his opposite side where Missa isn’t is, down into his lap. When he opens his mouth, his jaw trembles as he laughs something harsh and bitter, spitting, “I’m fucking terrified, Missa. I don’t know how to get myself out of this.”

His voice cracks in the middle of his words, and the second he finishes, Phil shatters.

Missa watches his face crumple in dismay. “No, no, no, querido,” he moves quickly and shushes him gently, gathering Phil in his arms. A strangled noise, torn between a sob and wail, gets muffled into Missa’s cloak and Missa cradles Phil’s head closer, pressing his lips to the golden crown of his hair. Skeletal fingers run through his scalp as delicately as he can.

How long has this been going on? How much has Phil been holding this all in?

Has he told anyone this?

Everybody must think of Philza as the most collected person on the island -- even Missa thought that, because who couldn’t? He held himself together well, kept to himself, and offered kindness whenever somebody needed help. He’s always been the one protecting -- because he never let anybody else do it for him.

He grew up so alone. Of course he would expect to manage on his own, but--

Missa screws his eyes shut, feeling more tears drip from his sockets. He can’t handle this problem by himself. And now…

Taking in a shaking breath to calm himself, Missa pulls away from Phil’s embrace. His face is red and splotchy, eyes swollen, and he makes another strangled grunt, covering his face with his hands to wipe away the tears and mucus. His shoulders still shake with labored breath and the occasional hiccup. He looks miserable.

Distantly, he wonders if he’s the only person that’s seen Phil like this.

Missa’s hands gently sweep away his to cup his jawline, tilting his face up. Tears stain his cheeks -- wet streaks that replace the sticky, dried-out marks from the seawater that was on his skin -- and Phil still can’t look him in the eye. He doesn’t seem like he’s used to this attention. This kind of vulnerability.

That’s fine. Missa brushes away the fresh tears that bead from his long eyelashes. He holds Phil, just like this, taking him in. He doesn’t want Phil to hide this from him, not when he’s here.

When blue irises finally focus on him, it’s shy. Missa’s chest flutters. Even like this, he can’t help but feel enamored by the crow in his arms. He had no idea someone so strong could look so bashful at someone like Missa.

Love is a strange thing, he thinks as he leans down and fits his lips over Phil’s.

It’s a simple message, a reminder. Phil tastes like seawater, but Missa drags him deeper, willing to drown himself in it for him.

Phil pulls away first -- his breathing still isn’t steady, and the kissing probably isn’t helping, but he stretches to meet Missa’s lips again anyway. It feels like a response -- Missa was fine as long as Phil heard, but he wants to return it-- him-- his head spins.

He doesn’t care if his feelings are reciprocated or if Phil even knows how far Missa is willing to go for him, always. Relief pours over him like honey and he sighs into the kiss, letting Phil take the lead.

There’s a bit of a challenge, namely Phil needing to breathe. He parts long enough to take in a breath before diving back in, and it’s-- endearing, tickles Missa in a way that makes him giddy, but he knows he should probably put a stop to this if Phil wasn’t going to, for Phil’s sake. He’s not the one with lungs here after all.

(He also wasn’t the one to almost drown.)

Despite this though, Phil chases after him the second he starts to pull away. His nose knocks into Missa’s skull, the edges of his nasal cavity -- and still, that doesn’t deter him. Missa’s endeared laugh gets muffled by Phil’s smiling lips; he can’t help but give into his fluttering chest and Phil’s touch.

Eventually, they part, just not very far. Missa rests his skull against Phil’s forehead -- at his insistence -- to listen to him steady his breath. Behind them, the waves lap at the sand. They’ve gradually dried over time thanks to the enchanted armor they wear, but Missa feels ready to collapse like he’s weighed down by bricks.

He can’t imagine how Phil must be feeling.

“Missa…?”

He blinks, sitting back on his (hurting) knees (ow, he’s been on them too long), peering at Phil. The crow looks like a mess still, but under the moonlight, Missa doesn’t care. Phil gazes at him, hesitant -- an expression Missa’s never seen on him before.

They… have a lot to talk about, don’t they? If Phil even feels comfortable enough to talk to him about it. Something nags in the back of Missa’s mind -- a horrible voice in his head that usually points out all of his insecurities -- that this feels too perfect. The Ender King disappeared too fast. They’re too happy.

Chayanne is still missing. Tallulah is no doubt worrying about him, and Phil, and now Missa. The sand underneath them is bathed in that eerie purple glow from the mass on Phil’s back -- he said something about a backpack? -- and Missa still feels the edges of his fears still gnawing at his bones. Phil isn’t okay, and there’s no telling the next time Missa may wake up.

Phil’s voice carries in the breeze. “Can… can you stay here tonight? With me?”

Oh.

A warmth, fuzzy and like the sun, coils in his ribcage. Missa nods, maybe a bit too aggressively, with, “Sí, sí, si me quieres aquí. Anything, Philza.”

Phil’s smile crinkles the edges of his eyes, his crow’s feet, in a way Missa thinks only he’s seen before. “Thank you. Th- thank you, Missa.” It sounds as if the world is lifted from his wings. Maybe it has.

It isn’t much, but it’s something. They find a spot underneath a tree, far from the beach or the stony cliff, and Phil lights up the area as much as he can despite his exhaustion. As they work together, they talk. This isn’t the end of it. The water scared Ender off, but it didn’t get rid of the mass on Phil’s back, or the darkened claws that were Phil’s hands.

It was enough for tonight. Phil hadn’t slept as a punishment to himself, afraid Ender would take control in his sleep -- but that ended in his downfall the moment his consciousness lapsed with the sleep deprivation. Ender swooped in, and Phil was too exhausted to try and fight back.

So it comes to no surprise that Phil’s asleep the second his head hits Missa’s lap.

Blond hair weaves through Missa’s skeletal hands as he chuckles quietly. With two fingers, he picks up a lock of his hair and presses his lips to it, murmuring to Phil’s sleeping face, “Buenas noches, querido. Que descanses.”

The moon above them wanes into something full, bright, whole -- a lunar eclipse just ending. It watches Missa slowly drift to sleep as well, hearing Death’s distant call.

For the first time in his existence, Missa fights against the natural calling of his undead body. Maybe it’s a pointless fight. Maybe Death will still claim him in the end. Maybe he’ll give into the urge with his fears too heavy and pressing in his mind and submit himself to the void.

He fights because he wants to wake up next to Phil. He can’t leave him alone after tonight. He wants to help him with this, in any way he can.

Just like he promised.

[saintsenara]

I’m curious why you loathe the implication that wizards are immune to muggle diseases. Is it because it reinforces the idea that they aren’t really the same species as muggles?

thank you very much for the ask, @urupotter!

and the answer is - yes, pretty much.

how the body is understood, how illness and disability are thought about, how the medical system works etc. are all questions that i am primed to obsess over in any piece of media - even when they're not actually significant parts of the story.

which is to say, i completely understand the reason why the harry potter series treats these topics in the way it does. magical medicine isn't one of the themes the story is designed to focus on - which means that its purpose is as incidental worldbuilding detail which reinforces the whimsical vibe of the earlier books and the darker vibe of the later ones, and which means that its treatment in the text makes sense within the setting and genre conventions of canon. harry being able to take a bludger - a cast-iron cannonball moving at speed - to the head and living to tell the tale is the same as john wick being able to fall from a great height, land on his back, and then get up and walk around: he's an action hero in a fantasy.

and so wizards being more physically durable than muggles - and also wizards having their own magical diseases, and being immune to muggle ones - all makes sense within the context of the books as literature. kids don't want to read about harry having a cold. they want to read about him being a wizard.

but when i'm deciding to enjoy myself by taking the question of just how fucked-up wizarding society is much more seriously than canon does... the implication that wizards are immune to muggle diseases and that they are broadly unaffected by physical trauma unless that trauma has a magical cause really bothers me. entirely - as you say - because it directly undermines the series' thesis that the purity of magical blood is irrelevant and that the wizarding world's dehumanisation of muggles and muggleborns by treating them as, essentially, separate, lower species is wrong.

the main canon example of this which i detest is dumbledore's suggestion in half-blood prince that merope gaunt could have survived childbirth if she'd simply "raised her wand to save her own life". after all, if a little bit of magic makes one immune to experiencing complications during childbirth [unlike thousands upon thousands of muggles throughout history, who would probably have very much liked to have lived to see their children grow up]... then voldemort is completely justified in thinking merope's death was a selfish, shameful, deliberate choice.

[i do understand that the idea merope chose to die is primarily included in the text so dumbledore can segue into saying that lily "had a choice too", contributing to the gradual reveal in half-blood prince and deathly hallows that she's the key to the whole mystery. but i still think that jkr could maybe have though a little bit harder about what she was suggesting with this than she evidently did...]

and so i think in fandom it's both fun and important not to accept the idea that wizards are automatically resistant to anything which might kill, injure, or disable a muggle - especially because it lets us really play with some of the big worldbuilding questions surrounding the conventions and institutions of wizarding society.

what do disability rights look like in a world which is so rabidly intolerant of difference, and which appears not to have any sort of welfare state? the nhs is a recent invention, created in a muggle britain which is culturally and institutionally separate from the wizarding one: so is treatment at st mungo's free - and, if not, what happens to those who can't pay? how is queerness understood in a society which appears to have views on sexual expression which are fairly conservative - and how does this mean the wizarding state responded to the aids crisis? what do reproductive rights look like in this kind of society? if the dementor's kiss results in - essentially - a vegetative state, what is done with the people the kiss has been performed on? what might it be like for your relative to develop dementia at 100... when you know they might live to 250? what impact do biases about blood status have on how muggleborn patients are treated?

i just think it's interesting!

[runabout-river]

Thoughts on JJK chapter 249 (Spoilers)

We start with a flashback to how Yuta's suprise attack against Kenjaku truly ended

Sth that Toji had already foreseen happens when the manipulated curses of Geto's CT come out in droves when Kenjaku loses control

I'm sceptical of that explanation though. It looks more like Kenjaku intentionally released all cursed spirits to create a distraction. We see that in the fact that Kenjaku still controls the curses afterwards.

This distraction is mainly used to add a new rule to the CG. There is also the possibility that Kenjaku had the time to do sth else while Yuta's focus was somewhere else. For now, it looks like Kenjaku has died though.

(I'm really expecting some Takaba/Kenjaku friendship fics, also "this millennia" is only 18 years.)

Visually and otherwise interesting here, is that Tengen was turned into an embryo while in a womb-like construct inside Kenjaku's "body". Tengen is a 1500 year-old once-woman who had turned her body's aging back twice. Now she had been turned against her will into a pre-birth creature, who was than swallowed by a 1000 year-old man.

(Sukuna is a seahorse, confirmed)

Even if it turns out that Kenjaku had been a man in his original body, he's still the most female cis man in shonen outside of One Piece characters. Also, it's Megumi who's caught between all these fossils and their procreation shenanigans. Let's if some of that stays with him.

Yuta has some second thoughts about their plan and how they split up. At the end he plainly states that he mainly wanted to kill Kenjaku himself but the current fight is what it is, and he has to deal with that.

In close combat, Yuta can hold his own and even lands a hit on Bellymouth. Sukuna's CE energy output recovers though and so does the danger of his DE. That's when Yuta activates his own, sth he couldn't do while fighting his three-way battle.

True Love reminds me of Hifune (Soul Eater) and his way of fighting with dozens of swords thrown around. Sukuna's DE is stronger so Yuta has an additional and unknown time limit on his hands.

Sukuna knows Hollow Wicker Basket, the anti-domain technique we saw Reggy use. For him it actually has a purpose because unlike Megumi's DE, Yuta's has a sure-hit. Sukuna has four hands though.

Yuta's DE works like this apparently: his copied CT are represented in the form of swords. He can activate the CT once to attack his opponent, afterwards the sword disintegrates. I don't remember Thin Ice Breaker from another sorcerer though.

3 questions:

Does the cursed technique through the sword attack have to be completely in the form of the original CT? Or can Yuta change it enough to make e.g. CE blast attacks?

Will the copied CT get erased from Yuta's memory once the sword disintegrates?

Are the copied CTs split into their different applications? Like one sword for Blue and one sword for Red?

For the second time in a row in the last two chapters, Megumi gets name-dropped again. Add Yuji into the Domain with his punches having the effect of separating soul and body and it looks like a Megumi moment is on the horizon. What that will look like is anyone's guess though.

Yuji is not to be fucked with. What Sukuna says on the other hand, makes me think that Yuji still puts his life into roles that others give him. His cog mentality is still present.

[riahlynn101]

"Familiarity."

Summary:

Izuku thought the war couldn't get any worse.

He was wrong.

--

"And Izuku can’t decide which is worse. That Hisashi Midoriya’s memory is being tainted by this evil man, and his presence in Izuku’s life was cut short by forces outside of his control. Or that Hisashi Midoriya was really just a facade donned by All for One in a series of facades, and all the fond memories Izuku holds of his father are false."

Inspired by both the theory that the AFO in the current battle is actually a clone, and the real one is Hisashi Midoriya who is working in America. And by a comment discussion between me and Gwen on another one of my DFO fanfics. So, big thanks to them for letting me ramble <3

Trigger warnings: AFO being himself, a teenager in distress, and canonical violence.

Warning: There is a major spoiler warning for chapter 423 within the first couple paragraphs!!

---

It’s over. 

Shigaraki’s body disintegrates into nothing. The remaining pieces are carried away by the wind. It’s a sad send off, and nothing about it makes Izuku the least bit happy. 

The last embers of One for All burn up. He can feel the familiar warmth fade away, and just like that gravity catches up to him. Wind whistles through his hair as he starts the quick descent back to the hard ground below. 

He’s not worried. Falling is easy. He has enough faith in his classmates and the remaining Pro heroes to catch him. 

He can’t get Shigaraki’s defeated expression out of his head. Izuku wanted so desperately to save him. All of him, but it wasn’t enough. 

Izuku wasn’t enough. He wasn’t smart enough, nor strong enough to pull Shigaraki out of All for One’s parasitic grasp. Ironically, him wanting to save Shigaraki might have been the one thing that damned him. Maybe if he hadn’t-

He coughs. There’s something in his chest, in his lungs. Like mucus. Izuku coughs again, trying to ease the tension in his lungs. Some of it comes up, just as he lands in Iida’s arms. His friend smiles at him, exhaustion and pain evident on Iida’s usual stern face. 

Kacchan wobbles over to him, holding his side. “Hey, nerd,” he says, but there’s no bite to his tone.

Izuku opens his mouth to respond, to thank Iida for catching him. To tell Kacchan and the others that he’s proud of them, that he’s happy that they came to help. But when he does that, a rush of water spills from his open mouth. 

His eyes widened. He falls to his knees. Dark spots dance in his vision. The water, at least that’s what Izuku assumes it is, has the consistency of snot and the taste of sewer water. 

His friends rush over, holding him steady. 

Something prickles under his skin, down his arms and over his hands. Electricity. Not unlike how he felt with One for All dancing under his skin, waiting and ready for use. But One for All is gone…

His stomach cramps. Izuku groans, falling forward onto his knees in spite of his friends’ best efforts. Their voices meld together, mixing into a cacophony that hurts his ears. 

The dark spots grow larger, blocking Izuku’s vision until everything is eclipsed. Blindly, he reaches out for help. Needing reassurance that everything’s okay. That he isn’t dying. That this is all because he pushed his body a little too hard and not because something terrible has taken root. 

“Kacchan…” he claws at the ground. “Mom….mama help me!” His eyes burn. He’s scared. “All Might!” His voice is inaudible to everyone except himself. Every word is intercepted by another mouthful of liquid. “Dad!” 

In between one heart beat and the next, Izuku is back in the vestige realm. He knows it’s the vestige realm, and specifically All for One’s vestige realm, by the absence of anything at all. Just a big empty void with swirling winds and not a soul in sight. 

The heavy feeling in his chest and the dark spots in his vision have disappeared. It would be a relief if not for what him being here means. 

“All for One!” He calls out. There’s no reply. Of course there’s not. Because if Izuku’s here, then that means All for One’s out-

He summons all his energy into calling All for One back here. “All for One! Answer me!” And the man does, strangely enough. 

He appears before Izuku, but he looks…different. Familiar somehow. 

Izuku doesn’t let the moment go to waste. “Let me go!” 

All for One tilts his head to the side, a pitying look on his face. Without wanting to, Izuku studies the strange familiarity in the man’s face. “But I’m not even holding you.”

“You know what I mean,” he snaps, fists clenched at his sides. “I’m not going to be another vessel for you to live out your dying dreams in. Let. Me. Go!” He lunges forward to punch the smug look off All for One’s face. 

All for One disappears and reappears behind him. He laughs at Izuku’s strangled scream, and laughs even harder when Izuku whirls around to swing at him. His fists meet air, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to punch the man that ruined so many lives. 

“All for One!” He yells at the top of his lungs. “I won’t ask you again-”

“Ask me why,” All for One says, back where he started, across from Izuku. His arms are crossed.

“Ask you why, what?”

“You know. Ask me why.”

Izuku does understand. It’s the fact that he doesn’t want to anymore that’s the problem. He’s done listening. The war is over. He both won and lost in the most important ways. 

He forces himself to calm down. All for One has the advantage here. Izuku takes a deep breath, and unclenches his fists. “Why?” 

All for One quirks an eyebrow. “Why what…?” He smiles.

Through gritted teeth, Izuku manages to clarify himself, “why am I here?”

All for One clicks his tongue. “Wrong question. You already know the answer to that.”

It infuriates Izuku that All for One is right. “Fine,” he spits. “Then, why are you-”

Again, All for One clicks his tongue, an almost disappointed look on his newly-restored face. And again, Izuku finds himself studying it.

The facial structure is the same. 

The hair is too.

So…why….

It’s the freckles, he realizes. The same diamond shape pattern that Izuku’s had since early childhood. The same ones that he inherited from his… 

Izuku takes a step back. “No,” he breathes. “This isn’t…what? Why do you look like…” he can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. Because finishing it would mean admitting that All for One looks like Hisashi Midoriya. 

All for One sighs, pleased. “There we are. You know, I was almost worried you weren’t going to catch on.”

“What is this!?” Izuku feels his body tense. It reminds him of the days before he knew how to fight. He grasps at any possible reason that All for One would be wearing his father’s face. 

“Oh, come now. I know it’s been a few years but-”

“No!” 

Izuku tugs at his hair. He turns away. All this time he thought his father abandoned them, sending money out of obligation, but instead he was murdered or…or maybe he was being blackmailed by All for One. 

He can’t decide if he should laugh or cry. 

“Izuku-”

“Don’t call me that!” Izuku screams. 

“Izuku,” All for One says. “I am Hisashi Midoriya.” He sounds amused, like this is all some great big joke. Like pretending to be, or actually being his father is supposed to be some hilarious spectacle. 

And Izuku can’t decide which is worse. That Hisashi Midoriya’s memory is being tainted by this evil man, and his presence in Izuku’s life was cut short by forces outside of his control. Or that Hisashi Midoriya was really just a facade donned by All for One in a series of facades, and all the fond memories Izuku holds of his father are false. 

“Well, I suppose that isn’t correct.” All for One hums, thinking. “I hold all the memories of being your father, but none of the emotions.” He laughs. “Makes me wonder why the other version of me allowed me to keep emotional ties to Yoichi but not to you? I almost feel cheated. Oh, well.”

But Izuku has checked out. “No! No! No!” He falls to his knees. The shadows that used to cover his body in One for All reappear, curling around him like ropes. 

The ground is cold and rough, like broken concrete. He sobs. 

All for One kneels down next to him. “Better luck next time, Izuku.” And then, he’s gone. Leaving Izuku to squirm against the shadows holding him down. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

-x-x-x-

Izuku jolts awake. The heart monitor beeps loudly, adding to his growing terror. His body aches and the terror he felt has followed him out of the vestige realm. 

“Izuku, my baby,” his mom warbles. She hugs him. It’s been too long since he’s found refuge in her arms. Too long since he’s seen her. He relaxes, allowing himself to be held.

Someone, unseen by Izuku because his mom’s in the way, clears their throat. His mom straightens instantly. Her eyes are wet and her smile is wobbly. She kisses Izuku on the cheek one last time before moving to the side. 

He tries to reach out for her, but his hand misses by an inch or two. He misses her warmth. He misses his mom. 

But before he can say anything, a….

Izuku swallows, looking the man before him over. “You,” he says. His voice is even, though he feels shaken. His stomach roils, curling into itself. 

“Me,” his d- (no, Izuku refuses to give into whatever this mind game is) All for One jokes. He has the same face as the dad he remembers. The same freckles that Izuku inherited. The same untameable, curly hair. The same concerned look on his face. Same. Same. Same. 

“Get- get out,” Izuku stammers. He looks at his mom, needing her to understand him. But her eyes narrow, in the same way they do when she’s about to scold him. 

“Midoriya Izuku,” she starts, but All for One holds up a hand to stop her. 

“It’s okay. It’s natural for our son to be hurt by my absence. It has been quite a few years.”

The word ‘son’ makes Izuku’s previously contained nausea grow. He groans, holding an arm over his stomach. 

His mom steps forward to help him, but All for One is quicker. Hands that used to hold him close and snuggle him to sleep, sit on his shoulders. 

Hands that forced Tenko into a life that he didn’t deserve. 

Hands that snuffed out generations of heroes. Of One for All users. Of innocent civilians. 

Hands that used to wipe away Izuku’s tears when he came home crying, hurt and heartbroken for the millionth time. 

“Izuku.”

He refocuses on All for One’s face. His eyes are the same white they were in his other forms, with the only difference being he actually has pupils. A ring of black in a sea of white. 

“There you are.” All for One smiles. A chill runs down Izuku’s spine. He glances over at his mom, but she’s nowhere to be seen. 

“Mom?” He calls out. 

“She went to get a nurse. The sooner you get checked out, the sooner we can go-”

Izuku cuts him off. “Home?” He finishes. “What home? The one destroyed by the war you started?”

Something flashes in All for One’s eyes. Not anger, nor frustration, but something more than his previous concern. He tilts his head to the side. “Oh, my Izuku,” he says. “You should have been nowhere near the war.” 

It’s not an admission, but it might as well be. 

To anyone else All for One sounds like a father regretful that he couldn’t protect his only son from the horrors of battle. But Izuku knows better. He knows that All for One, his father or not, cares little for anything besides getting the First One for All user’s vestige back. 

All for One hugs him. He smells the exact same as the last time Izuku got to hug him. Whether by conscious choice of wanting to forget who his father might be, or his subscious wanting comfort, Izuku buries his face into the crook of the man’s neck. 

“It’s okay, Izuku,” All for One murmurs. “I know you don’t believe me, but I do love you. And I’ve thought about you every day we’ve been apart.”

He’s right, Izuku doesn’t believe him. But he doesn’t have the energy to pick any more fights right now, so he shrugs his shoulders.

All for One says nothing to this. His fingers comb through Izuku’s curls. “Someday, you’ll call for me, just like you used to. Like you call for your mother now. Like you called for me on the battlefield, scared and in pain. You’re still just a little boy, Izuku. You need me and your mother.”

His words catch Izuku off guard. It feels so different from everything he said before. The concern is still there, but there’s decidedly something more. Izuku would call it ‘wishful thinking’, but he knows better. Especially when All for One’s arms curl around Izuku, trapping him in. 

“Why are you doing this?” Izuku asks, hoping his mom comes back soon. Over All for One’s shoulder he watches the door. 

All for One releases him, only to grab his face. The corners of his mouth curl upwards, not quite a smile but close enough. He squeezes Izuku’s cheeks together. “The same reason I do anything. Love.”

Izuku glares at him. They both know that’s bullshit. 

All for One lets him go, sighing sadly. 

“Whether you like it or not, you are my flesh and blood. And I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon.”

Izuku slumps into his pillow. “Liar,” he mutters under his breath. 

All for One leans over him, giving Izuku another (unwanted) hug. He hums, seemingly happy (of course he’s happy, Izuku thinks sourly. He’s getting what he wants…whatever that is). “I’ll let you think that son of mine.”