#but hopefully that answered the question adequately :)

[bookwyrminspiration]

Thoughts on Sophie’s love interests/their relation to her?

Okay I'm gonna try and cover a breadth, but let me know if I missed one! (this got long)

Sokeefe: Spoke about it more here, general idea is I think Keefe's become stagnant and is constantly inhibiting the plot/Sophie to an aggravating degree. He's unhealthily obsessed with her + praises her, yet is constantly meddling/steamrolling in a way I don't enjoy. I think he needs a life outside her and to actually experience consequences--Sophie should hate him for a while. As a treat. Sokeefe's execution was too quick for my tastes, but is still salvageable.

Sophitz: I'm biased; I love Fitz. He's shown remorse and growth, he spent his childhood looking for her while she spent hers wishing for someone like her. Sophie, without knowing or trying, completely annihilated all the pedestals Fitz stood on. Manifested younger, transmits farther, blocks better, etc. She's unwillingly everything he wanted to be. There's this tension, an undertone of subconscious jealousy to it all. Then the matchmaking makes it painfully clear what different worlds they come from, but it's gloriously frustrating because it didn't have to end like that, yet it was always going to, you know? They could've talked, they could've waited--but they were giddy and rushed in too soon (they never would've waited) and now they're further apart than ever. Really really hoping to see them re-find each other and establish something true and strong, non-romantically

Sodex: Sophie feels weird about it because they're technically cousins, so we're not starting strong (if Sophie didn't care, neither would I, but that's a separate thing). Furthermore, Dex fell hard for the first person in the world to not be a bigoted ass to him. Very low bar, very sweet and innocent, but entirely doomed to fail from day one. The crush was one-sided and built on nothing, the friendship forming later based on actual interactions and getting to know each other, which I think is a more compelling and sensible direction for the two of them. Dex is quick, stubborn, petty, and loyal. Big fan of what they've got now.

Sophiana: The pettiness of the first book, the push and shove. The nudge from Alden, the betrayal. Sophie consumed Biana's family's existence before she could walk, Biana always left out wanting until suddenly she was There. This thing she'd been excluded from made flesh to hate. A ratty, weird antithesis to Biana's princess reputation. The bridging of that gap and the sincerity they develop is beautiful. The ways Sophie opens Biana's eyes and Biana fights in turn to be there for her. Hoping we get more from them in-depth in the future

Solinh: Linh's resilient, caring, has spent a lifetime being an unwanted danger afraid of herself and hasn't had the time to find herself outside of survival. Sophie revolutionized Linh's world, enabled her to find the space she needed to grow and breathe easier. She's scary powerful, determined, and joyful--all of which Sophie would benefit from in turn. They could go on a journey of self-discovery and building confidence together, though right now their one-on-one scenes are a little lacking

Sopharella: Lot of layers to these two. One of her first friends, but despite that was one of the last Sophie actually got to know. Marella wanted to join and blamed Sophie for leaving her, decided it wasn't for her, then was dragged into it all anyway. They've never been super close, but are still tied together in ways they don't understand (Caprise's relationship to the Neverseen). Neither of them want to be in the situation they're in, and yet. They're in a sort of truce, but it doesn't seem either of them are doing anything to move beyond that

Hekster: Ah, rivals to lovers. Stina's unstable superiority, distancing herself from them in hopes no one remembers hey, weren't your parents...? The immaturity of "you laughed at me. you didn't even know me but you took his side" (paraphrased, Lodestar). The "We good, Foster?" Lot of hostility, but a lot of growth on Stina's part in this one (said because like 90% of Sophie's hostility is in reaction). Solid up until Stellarlune. However, I find the imbalance of that hostility to detract from the rivalry's appeal; if it was genuinely mutual instead of Stina being a bully and Sophie defending herself, I'd be more into it.

Sotam: Adore Tam. The defiance, the stubbornness, the way he'd rather fuck off and yet he's become part of this group almost against his will. The quiet burden he's given himself his whole life, the fear and responsibility. The way he'd choose Linh over the world. He's indebted to Sophie for saving Linh, for getting them out and getting her to an environment where she could connect and build her confidence. He's saved her in turn. They've got a sort of silently orbiting each other thing going on. I personally find their backgrounds (as Others), defiance, and humor to best serve a strong platonic bond.

Lopster: I don't even need to explain myself 100/10 no notes

[foxtrot91]

sweet like syrup

The batter sizzles as Tommy pours it into the pan, the scent of the pancake batter wafting up and filling Tommy’s senses. Evan is still sleeping in the bedroom, having arrived home late last night after his shift ran over. He’d showered at the station and had practically collapsed onto the bed next to Tommy, barely managing to grunt out a greeting before being pulled under into a deep sleep. From the messages he’d received throughout Evan’s shift, it had been a rough one.

Which is why Tommy is out here now, trying his hand at pancakes made from scratch. He takes a moment to mourn the loss of his store-bought pancake mix that he used to have before Evan had taken one look at it, shot Tommy a look of disgust and declared it sacrilege before tossing it in the trash. So now Tommy has to troll Google for pancake recipes and thank whatever god might exist that Evan has also taken to expanding the ingredients Tommy has on hand even if Tommy barely touches them himself.

The Canadian Pure Maple Syrup has been a wonderful addition, actually, – “Bobby has it shipped in from Montreal, so you know it’s legit.” – and while he wishes he had the convenience of a premade mix to go with it, he accepts the trade-off. He still hasn’t figured out the whole maple syrup grading colour system, however, but he’d enjoyed listening to Evan discuss the merits of each grade and their best uses in the kitchen.

If he’s completely honest, Tommy doesn’t notice much of a difference between the light or dark syrups and is halfway convinced that the Canadian government is involved in a conspiracy with the maple syrup companies to hoodwink Americans into spending more money for their pretentious, robust flavoured syrup. Jokes on them, Tommy decides, because he would’ve bought it regardless of some made-up grading system just for the way Evan lights up whenever Bobby brings over their portion of his latest order. Also, and he is mature enough to admit this– it’s a thousand times better than the thick, artificial table syrup he’d grown up with as a kid.

You win this one, Canada, he thinks, eyeing the can of syrup with the proud maple leaf emblazoned on the label.

He's nearing the end of the batter by the time he hears a faint shuffling coming from the direction of the bedroom. By the time Evan joins him in the kitchen, Tommy has turned off the stove and has moved to set the table with two plates, cutlery, butter – real butter, not the margarine Tommy used to carry which was another quick casualty once Evan had moved in – a stack of pancakes, and of course, the can of syrup.

“You made breakfast?” Evan says, barely suppressing his yawn long enough to get the question out. He’s sleep rumpled, wearing one of Tommy’s slightly too big sweaters and a pair of sweats that he’s yet to tie up, and Tommy knows that if the sweater weren’t hiding it from view, he’d get a delicious peek at the sliver of skin and trail of hair that leads into Evan’s pants.

Small mercies, he thinks, because if it weren’t for the bulk of the sweater, Tommy is certain they wouldn’t make it to breakfast, and he’s spent way too much time putting this together to not eat it with Evan.

“I did,” Tommy says, smiling as he pulls Evan into his arms and gives him a soft, lingering kiss before pulling back. “Thought I’d surprise you… are you surprised?”

“You hate cooking,” Evan says in lieu of an answer, smiling when he looks over at the table. “It smells amazing.”

Laughing, Tommy ushers Evan over to the table and pulls a chair out for him. “Hopefully it tastes just as good,” he says with a wink as Evan sits down.

Tommy takes the seat to his right and serves up the pancakes onto both of their plates. Once adequately buttered and drenched in syrup, they both dig in. They’re definitely not as good as Evan’s – he really should ask him for the recipe he uses – but they’re still good, if Tommy does say so himself. And by the look on Evan’s face, he’d say they’re at least good enough to pass his muster. They’re quiet as they eat, the sounds of their utensils clanging on their plates the only real noises filling the dining room. It’s a comfortable silence, and given Evan’s rough shift the previous night, Tommy imagines it’s a welcome one as well.

Once they finish, Tommy stands to gather their plates, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Evan’s head before he turns to wash up. There’s a certain domesticity to this that Tommy has never felt in any of his previous relationships. Evan isn’t the first boyfriend he’s lived with, not by a longshot, but he’s the first who’s ever made the kind of effort for Tommy that he is. The first to speedrun a sexuality crisis for the sheer fact that it was Tommy he wanted to be with, the first to cook him meals outside of any special occasion just because, and the first to make room for Tommy in every aspect of his life, to seamlessly fit Tommy in amongst the people he values most without a second thought.

He’s the first to make Tommy want to match his effort.

When he finishes cleaning up, he turns back to see Evan staring at him over the back of his chair. His elbow is rested on the back with his chin perched on top and he’s gazing at Tommy in a way that has a warm prickle starting up in his chest.

“What?” Tommy asks as he wipes his hands on the towel hanging off the oven handle.

“Nothing, it’s just…” He trails off, but Tommy doesn’t try to interject. “Nobody’s ever made me breakfast before.”

That can’t be true.

“What about Bobby?”

“That-he doesn’t count,” Evan says, like it should be obvious. “I mean like… in a relationship.”

“Oh,” Tommy says, a little stunned at the thought. Evan has had many partners; surely at least one of them would’ve–

“Yeah,” he says, smiling as he stands from the chair to join Tommy where he’s standing near the counter. “Usually it’s me,” he waves a hand vaguely towards the counter before looking back to Tommy. “It was nice, being on the other side for once.”

“Well, you better get used to it,” Tommy says, “Because I’ve got Google at my fingertips and a whole host of new ingredients, kitchen appliances, and fancy pots and pans at my disposal.” Evan laughs, ducking his head at the reminder of how absolutely batshit insane he’d gone overhauling Tommy’s kitchen when he’d moved in. “I hope you’re prepared for a lot of terrible meals,” he adds, because cooking the kinds of meals Evan is capable of has never been in his wheelhouse. Pancakes are about as good as it gets. Evan giggles and shakes his head, shoving lightly at Tommy’s shoulder in response.

God, he thinks, I fucking loves this man.

“I love you,” Evan says, eyes bright.

I love you too. He thinks it; goes to say it in return as he takes in the bright blue of Evan’s eyes.

“I want to marry you,” is what comes out instead.

Evan’s eyes go wide as saucers and Tommy has a split second to think – fuck fuck fuck… before landing on, fuck it. – as Evan sputters in shock, “T-Tommy, you can’t mean-”

“There’s a ring in my sock drawer,” he says on a slightly panicked breath, “I had it all planned out for our trip next month.”

“Wait, what trip?”

“It was going to be a surprise, Bobby put the PTO in for you,” this was the one piece that Tommy had been somewhat anxious about, but Eddie had been adamant that Evan would be very much on board with Tommy’s surprise. “I’m flying us out to a private lodge a buddy of mine owns. Just you, me, and a whole lot of forest to hike through.”

“Fuck,” Evan says, eyes wide in disbelief and Tommy feels a curl of anxiety forming in the pit of his stomach. He can’t help worrying that he’s stepped wrong here, that maybe it’s too soon. Sure they’ve been together for nearly two years now but really, what’s two years in the grand scheme of things– “Yes.”

Tommy’s brain goes abruptly offline as he processes, “What?” he asks, like an idiot.

“Yes, I will marry you,” Evan is grinning, chest shaking with barely suppressed laughter as his arms loop around Tommy’s neck and tug him in for a bruising kiss.

Groaning as they pull away, Tommy lets out a dry chuckle, “I had a whole plan,” he laments, shaking his head.

Evan isn’t having it; he takes Tommy’s face in his hands and draws him in for another heated kiss before pulling back. “Whether in some private lodge or here in our kitchen, my answer is still the same,” he says, and Tommy feels breathless.

“God I fucking love you,” he confesses, resting his forehead against Evan’s, noses brushing together.

“I know,” Evan says, and then, eyes sparkling with a little bit of mischief; “Wanna find out if engagement sex is better than normal, living-together sex?”

Tommy doesn’t have time to answer in the affirmative before Evan’s mouth is on his again, his lips still sweet with maple syrup. He feels a hand snake up his shirt as they start maneuvering towards the bedroom, losing articles of clothing along the way. He has more words to say, a whole speech he’d planned out that would show Evan just how much he means to Tommy. He’ll say them sometime, later, he thinks, when the desperation has worn off and they’re laying in the afterglow, sated, and happy.

Ao3

[edgeray]

*presses my face against your tank* HELLO RAY !!! :D I AM FINALLY HERE !! MY BRAINCELLS HAVE COLLIDED AND PRODUCED A THOUGHT !!

or, er, sort of? more like a vague vibe, but i digress. basically, consider: pining arle. how does she realize her feelings for you? how does she cope? how does her behaviour around you change? does it? what is she thinking the whole time? when would she consider making a move? essentially i would like to see you psychologically pick apart this woman. go as in depth into her brain or inner monologue as you want !!! the set dressing can be canon or an au, i’ll eat it up regardless :)) and as a professional angst writer i know you can write some absolutely monstrous (/pos) yearning and i’m frothing at the mouth thinking about it 🤤🤤🤤 lookin forward to your thoughts but also take your time with it !!! godspeed 🫡🫡🫡

An Unfit Role 

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Oh sev… you spoil me too much. You truly do. Somehow this turned into very ‘Arlecchino is a person'-esque and I don't know how but oh well. I don't know if this answered your questions very well, but hopefully this is what you mean by psychologically picking apart her! Was this enough pining? Content warnings / info - uhh none I think. just a lil bit of angst, 1.4k words

Arlecchino is many things. The Fourth Fatui Harbinger, a Snezynayan diplomat, the head of the House of the Hearth, and simply ‘'Father.’ She takes on many roles, and enforces them with an iron fist, every facade meticulously practiced and rationalized. Perfected as if she were an actor on a stage, every action and step is calculated beforehand. And if external factors or unpredictable variables crop up in the midst of her play? Well, a good actor knows how to improvise. Arlecchino is well aware of her roles, has memorized the lines and drilled through every movement. The Knave has many feats from each character she plays. A flawless performer, in those aspects.

A lover is not a character she can play. Someone who loves. It is a role that she cannot hope to touch, one she cannot imagine assigning herself too. She is far too inexperienced in what it pertains to. Her perception would grossly mischaracterize it, painting a rather crude display of what she knows of but doesn't know. After all, how could one act without an adequate example? No actor would want to showcase a poor impression of an original source material, an actor presents only their most remarkable qualities. A good actor knows what they cannot act, and it is this where her talents reach their limit. It is what her role as a ‘Father’ stems from; this inability to express something far too fragile and flimsy for her to hold. 

Of the few showcases of others playing the role, Arlecchino is knowledgeable enough that they are simply inept showcases. The Tsaritsa, who has shown the capability to act, and yet chooses to conceal her abilities from her audience. Crucabena, an unqualified actor, whose words dripped with far too much venom for the soft-spoken voice that she used. Perhaps Clervie was the only accurate and genuine actor able to play the part, but one cannot appreciate the traits of an unfinished story. And the naive Peruere, who could hardly imitate her counterpart, was maimed by Arlecchino’s own hands. It is here that she learns that the role of a lover earns no applause, because it adds little to the plot, and so it lacks a function in her story.  

Despite this, she finds herself in this scene, where she plays a character unlike her usual, an entirely new character involuntarily thrusted into her by the cruel machinations of her mind. 

It is a subtle thing. First, she was just the Knave to you. But somehow, among your presence, her facade slips, and she dons another character. 

She becomes a character who knows of nothing but the way her sight is captured by a singular person, a character whose dead heart begins to beat, daring to flutter back to life after it was painfully wrenched out of her chest by her favorite story's ending. She becomes acutely aware of this role when her eyes linger on you a moment longer than need be, when she indulges your empty but no less engaging conversations, when she familarizes herself with the particular fauna scent you carry. When she closes her eyes, your smile flashes through her mind, she knows she's fallen. 

An actor knows when to quit, when they misfit the character they're performing. And yet her mind remains stubborn. Acting a role one does not fit will only damage the actor's reputation, and she intends on abandoning it. But it is difficult for her to dismiss how much she yearns for a warmth that the blood flames in her veins cannot bring. It is difficult to deny that she is not momentarily blinded and stunned by your beaming expression, even when you are not looking at her. It is increasingly more difficult to control the pulsing underneath her skin. This is a character she cannot control, instead, it often feels that the character controls her. 

It is an unseemly, disgusting appearance for her. If it were physically possible, she would plunge her very own cursed, clawed hands into her chest, to grasp onto this fickle, volatile organ and crush it just to exhaust the remaining embers of a futile hope. If only it were as simple as that. Love is far too much of a complicated role for her, and yet it is somehow inescapable. Some sort of torment placed onto her by the archons. 

She can long, she can reach, she can prance around you, but never can she touch. For love imprints its scorch marks deeper than any weapon or assault. One of the lessons her story has concluded to. 

So, instead, she reduces its role to a minor character. She lets her stares remain, but she observes you from a distance. She does not dawdle a second longer besides you if she needn't be. She dresses the role of a lover as an observer. Everything she touches with these wretched, blackened hands soon turns into nothing but embers and ashes, and so the only way that you will remain is away from her.

On her desk, sits a vase with a single flower. It is your favorite flower, the flower that you smell of. It does not move from its place, nothing is done to it besides being watered. Its stem is so brittle, and the petals are far too easy to wither away.

(It is a reminder, every time she sits at her desk. Oh, how'd she like to stroke the patels with as much tenderness as she could muster. How'd she like to cradle it in her hands, this source of life, despite being so delicate, is so beautiful. How'd she like to be able to wake up everyday, and view upon this blossoming flower. But she is not a gardener. She knows nothing of how to make a flower bloom.) 

Humans are the only viable actors for the role of a lover. A curse is not. 

(In her dreams, sometimes you are in place of Clervie. Yet, like Clervie, the only moment she is able to cradle you is when her sword impales you. She will not let another flower wilt, she will not burn another flower.)

It is why you baffle her. Why do you gaze upon her with that expression, as if her claws are not one one more inch from piercing your skin and ripping into your flesh? How do you take her hands in yours, somehow slotting them as if they were always meant to, when they’re soiled with vulgar blood? Her cutting words and sharp tongue, how do they not dissuade you? How do you see her blackened skin, and not be driven away by such a mark of impurity and depravity? 

How could you not tell that she is improper for the role that you seek?

She wonders if a flower is a poor description of you. She wonders if you are instead a Sundew ensnaring a spider, unwilling to let it escape. No, perhaps that is not fitting for you, because you are unaware how effortlessly she can char you–unaware of the imminent danger that comes with keeping such a venomous creature.

Arlecchino is many things. She is a coward, if only for you. She cannot abandon her role, but she cannot perform better, floating in the state of inadequacy that she so despises. Playing a lover makes her foolish, and it is a compromising role. 

She is foolish, but she is despicable. She is selfish. And though she is perfect actor, even performers must fail to succeed. One day, her mental will and patience crumbles. She requests you into her office, your doe-eyed expression widens when she gives you the flower that sits lone in a glass vase on her desk. She tells you that you plague her thoughts, every feeling and emotion is muddied when they concern you, a culmination of things not within her grasp, not within her control. 

It is your performance that finally teaches her what she lacked before: playing the role of a lover requires another. It is a role dependent on another character, otherwise it cannot succeed. It matters not how experienced one is with the other, as long as the characters are committed to it.

There is another lesson that she learned from you.

“I cannot act as a lover.”

“Why must you act to love me?”

Love is a fickle, unpredictable thing. There is no words to be practiced, no actions to be scripted. 

Arlecchino is many things. A lover may be one of them. 

[clone-anon]

Hey there! As silly as it sounds, the release of TBB season 3 has reopened some old wounds caused by season 2 and left me in a bit of an odd place emotionally. I was one of those that actually went through the five stages of grief after that finale and with the uncertainty of Tech's fate hanging in the air, well, all of that is starting to bubble to the surface again. Tech is one of my "comfort clones", plus he reminds me a lot of my husband, so I'm a bit attached to him emotionally. Anyway, I'm rambling. What I'm asking for is some warm, snuggly comfort Tech (with a dash of snuggly comfort Echo) to help ease the pain and let me know everything's gonna be okay. :')

This isn't silly at all, Anon. Everyone who loves Tech has had to deal with this as best they can and we're all waiting with bated breath to see what season 3 has in store. Hopefully this will offer a dash of comfort. I included platonic Echo cuddles and romantic Tech cuddles.

Word Count: 726

You woke from a dream with a shudder. Your eyes adjusted to the lack of light as quickly as you could. You were on the Marauder and it was the middle of the night on some mid-rim planet. Tech, Echo, and you were off on a supply run and decided to hunker down for the night before venturing into the nearest town in the morning. You looked around. Tech was lightly snoring in his bunk and you breathed a sigh of relief. He was there. After so many months without him, he was back. You longed to climb into bed with him, but knew it took so much effort for him to fall asleep that you didn't want to disturb him. Instead, you ventured into the cockpit to find Gonky and Echo passing the time watching the stars as Echo finished up a communication with Rex. Always something to do.

"Hey," Echo said as you walked toward the copilot's seat.

"Hey," you replied.

"Can't sleep again?"

You nodded and rubbed your face. Echo sighed and tried to smile. He got up and went to one of the storage spaces. There was a mattress stored in there. Now that Omega was bigger and you often joined them, it helped to have a mattress they could throw on the floor. Echo laid it out, threw a blanket over it and held out his hand.

"Come on," he said.

"Shouldn't you be keeping watch?"

"We're fine here. Security system is working and I haven't noticed anything in hours."

You laid down next to him and rested your head against his chest. Echo rested his cheek on the top of your head and hummed a little. You had both become accustom to holding each other during those difficult times when you both missed those you'd lost. He liked the company and felt warmer next to someone.

After some time, Echo spoke up. "You could wake him, you know."

"He needs his rest," you replied.

Just then, familiar footsteps approached your position laying in the middle of the ship.

"I have adequately rested," Tech said.

"Did we wake you?" you asked.

"Not at all. It's my watch," Tech answered.

"Not much to watch," Echo said. "Your new security system keeps an eye on everything."

"As it should," Tech replied with a satisfied smile.

Echo gave you a quick squeeze before he got up. He headed to his own space where it was a bit darker and easier to rest his eyes. You weren't about to be alone though. Tech peered through the windows, gave Gonky a friendly pat, and then asked to join you on the mattress. You smiled as he got comfortable next to you. Of course he was welcome. There wasn't any question. You'd practically clung to each other since his return. You studied the scars on his face and the way his gait had changed after his fall. You didn't want to think about it. You just wanted him close.

As if reading your mind, he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. He kissed your forehead and simply said, "I'm here."

You nodded as you buried your face in neck and felt him kissed the crown of your head. You fought back tears and he rubbed your back. You gave him a squeeze as he gently laid one ankle over yours, looking for more contact. You looked up at him to find misty eyes and a smile.

"Still can't believe you're back," you said.

"Believe it," he said. "How can I make it up to you?"

"Tech, you don't have to. I know you missed me too and went through so much trying to get back. Just don't go anywhere without me again."

"I promise," he said. "For now though, you need your rest. You had your watch and now it's my turn."

You leaned in and kissed him with all you had. He still took your breath away. You got comfortable cuddled up against him. You listened to his heartbeat and your breathing slowed. You fell asleep quickly in the comfort of his presence. Tech got out his data pad to pass the time and check for any alerts that danger was near the Marauder. He smiled as he felt you enter a deeper stage of sleep, his other hand gently caressing you.

[trungles]

Cross-posting from my Patreon and my newsletter!

Welcome to this new, hopefully regular way for me to attempt to organize all the questions folks might ask about me or my work. I'll do my best to answer them, and I have a healthy backlog of these to get through! I'll still dig through my inbox on Tumblr here, but I just don't spend a ton of time here, and it's not the best way to get ahold of me.

ANYWAY, more after the cut (because I don't want to gum up your dashboard with a long post)

No holds barred, no IP or people off-limit: You can do a graphic novel adaptation of anything (or anyone's life story). What (or who) are you choosing?

With that in mind, I wanted to write and draw a book about an alternate universe Wanda in middle school having to navigate the quagmire of pediatric mental health services through the American public school system on top of figuring out her reality-warping powers. Like, what would the challenge of developing the tools for self-affirmation look like for a middle school girl who can change reality at will or by accident? How can she figure out and center what’s real or not if reality itself is literally malleable around her? How would she confront the emotional and physical gauntlet of being a tween when a mental health spiral could upend the fabric of the universe? That sort of thing. The whole arc of it was inspired by seeing how difficult it was for my little niece, who has similar brain issues to me, and her mother try to get adequate mental health support services for her in school, even with an IEP. It's a doozy of a process!

Anyway, the timing just didn’t work out. I’m just too tied up in projects I’m excited about at the moment, which is such a nice problem to have, honestly! 

Thanks so much for your question!

If you have any Office Hours questions for me, feel free to drop them here anonymously or through my website contact form.

[the-merry-otter]

Hello! You seem cool!

I've been wanting to join my local SCA (because cool) but had been too chickenshit to reach out to them (because the website does not list the contact for my region and I'm still unconvinced that an email is not a small animal akin to a weasel that bites) so I've decided to ask you (nice, hopefully) what I need to do / have / acquire before joining (because email scary and bothering strangers on tumblr easy).

Have a nice day!

Absolutely agreed on the email front, though admittedly I’ve been warming to them of late.

Not knowing much about your group, I can’t give you any specific advice unfortunately. If they have regular trainings listed on their website, you can usually just show up and be like “hey I’m interested 🥺” and you’ll be overwhelmed with people trying to explain everything within minutes.

You don’t really need to do or have anything before joining - most groups have garb and feasting stuff to loan to newbies while you’re still getting your own kit together. The only thing under this category is a paid membership, but you can go a few times and pay a non-member cost if you don’t want to commit immediately.

(Unfortunately I don’t know how much this is in other kingdoms. A yearly membership in Lochac is $45, and the non-member fee is $10 per event, so a membership becomes very worth it very quickly. If any of my US/EU SCA followers can give info, please do).

(Also, a lack of posted contact seems like an oversight - if you do end up joining, maybe point that out to whoever’s in charge).

Worst case, I’m happy to help draft an email if you’d like. It’s not awfully unlike a letter.

“Greetings! I live in [town] and am interested in joining the SCA. Is there a good place to contact them (I couldn’t find one on the website), or is there a regular meetup I could attend? Thank you. Regards, spickerzocker.tumblr.com”

Or whatever :P

Lemme know if you have any other questions or concerns (or I didn’t adequately answer any of those above). I’m always glad to help drag other people into my fun little hobby :3

[prismaticpollen]

the things we do for friendship (3/4)

original characters, f/f, cold

Wren wakes up sick the day of an important meeting and insists on going anyway. Vul isn’t sure how she feels about it.

(part 1 ) (part 2) (part 4)

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

The morning had started cool and breezy, chilly enough that it made perfect sense to wear layers, but it had warmed up by midday. All over the capital, people had discarded their coats, rolled up their sleeves, and thrown their windows wide open to enjoy the weather. Everyone seemed intent on savoring the fresh spring air as much as possible.

Well, almost everyone. Wren was freezing, bundled up in the softest sweater she owned. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed under a heavy quilt and watch old cartoons, but staying home hadn’t been an option. She and Vul had waited almost three weeks for a private audience with Queen Zara; rescheduling would have been unthinkable even if court decorum hadn’t forbidden it. This meeting was way too important to be derailed by something as trivial as a minor head cold.

Fortunately, she hadn’t had to say much after stating her case at the beginning. Vul had been doing an admirable job representing herself, and the Queen had addressed most questions directly to her, only asking for Wren’s input when Vul couldn’t answer adequately on her own. Wren had half expected the reverse, but the Queen had instantly welcomed Vul as she would have any foreign emissary, barely missing a beat once she’d recovered from the initial shock of meeting a real live alien.

That had been a spectacle to behold: the older woman had let out a high-pitched squeal more befitting an over-excited teenager than a sixty-something monarch, eyes bugging out of her head. To her credit, Vul had barely reacted, even though Wren knew the sound must have aggravated her friend’s sensitive hearing.

Regaining her composure, the Queen had promptly apologized and enthusiastically greeted Vul, and the two had been engrossed in conversation ever since. The discussion had touched on everything from geopolitics to theoretical astrophysics, often circling back to the same concept several times to give Vul’s translation device a chance to keep up.

Wren was trying her hardest to follow along, but she’d had a pounding headache for the past hour and it was taking all her willpower to keep from slumping forward in her chair and sleeping through the rest of the afternoon. She was so focused on keeping up appearances that she didn’t fully register the meeting wrapping up until Vul swatted at her thigh with her tail to get her attention.

“…won’t take kindly to us keeping such a big secret,” the Queen was saying. “We’ll have to plan our announcements carefully, but we should move fast. I’m thinking we go public sometime next week, that leaves us enough time to make the appropriate security arrangements and agree on a script.”

“That sounds good,” Vul said.

“Excellent. Wren, what do you think? You made first contact, it’s only fair that you should stay involved.”

“Next week is perfect, your Majesty,” Wren answered.

“Alright then, that settles it. One more thing, then I’ll let you go.”

What now? Hopefully, this would be quick.

“We’ll start recording from the arboretum. You might want to prepare a speech.” The Queen winked at Wren, actually winked at her like they were co-conspirators, then rose from the ornate conference table and left the room.

Oh, wow. Wren hadn’t been expecting that, but she wasn’t about to complain. Smiling to herself, she leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head with a sigh. “Ready to go?” she asked.

“Sure,” Vul chirped. Cheerful as always. “You okay? You sound different.”

Scratch that. She’d noticed, picked up on something with her inhuman hearing, and now she’d be worried and that was the last thing Wren wanted. Everything was fine, nothing worth stressing over, but Vul wasn’t used to seeing anyone in less than perfect health so she was bound to overreact the moment Wren so much as sniffled. The barrage of questions when she’d first discovered allergies had been bad enough.

“I’m just tired. Come on.”

The two of them made their way through the palace in silence, following the same narrow hallway they’d taken on the way in. After a few minutes of walking, they reached a large, heavy door protected by a biometric lock. Wren stepped up to it, leaned close enough to let it scan her eyes, then kept moving.

On the other side, a short set of steps led down into a tunnel. Running between the Queen’s chambers and a public park a block away from the palace, the rarely-used passageway allowed VIPs to come and go unseen; perfect for a secret meeting, but not the most comfortable way to travel. It was always brightly lit, fluorescent lights humming overhead no matter the time of day, and it always smelled like disinfectant.

Normally, none of this would have fazed Wren in the slightest, but this wasn’t a normal day. The sharp scent worked its way into the back of her sinuses almost immediately, throwing open the floodgates her cold had already pushed ajar. She sniffled wetly, scrubbing at her nose with her sleeve.

Vul certainly didn’t mind tunnels, as used to living underground as she was, but she still hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. “Wren?”

“I’b fide.” Ugh, that did not sound convincing. Wren cleared her throat, ready to try again, but it only made things worse. “The air id here does this sobe —SNFF!— sometimes. It’s just the smell, I pro-ohhm… prom-ihhh! HahHH-! AHHTSCHIEWWW!”

Vul stared up at her, tail lashing side to side. “Promise?”

“Yeah, that. I’m okay.” Wren hurried forward, moving as fast as she could towards the exit at the other end of the tunnel. Vul fell in step behind her, uncharacteristically quiet. No questions, no running commentary, nothing. Both girls’ footsteps echoed on the concrete floor, but otherwise their journey was almost eerily silent.

“HAHHTCHUU!”

Make that mostly silent.

Ten minutes (and another half dozen sneezes) later, Wren slid into the driver’s seat of her car. Vul climbed into the back, where tinted windows would hide her from other motorists, and Wren wasted no time turning onto the main road towards home.

She’d made the same trip many times before, and it was never a long drive, but this time it felt like an eternity. When she finally pulled into a parking space in front of her building, she slumped sideways, resting her cheek against the window. The cool glass felt so nice against her flushed skin, she might have stayed in that position for hours if Vul hadn’t spoken up.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” The alien sounded strange, not quite nervous but definitely tense somehow. She stuck close to Wren on the way upstairs, but wouldn’t meet her eyes, and she disappeared into her room the instant they made it into their apartment.

Hazily, Wren wondered if she’d upset her. If she had, it couldn’t be helped now. She’d check in later, but right then she was too tired for any lengthy conversation. She paused in the doorway just long enough to kick off her shoes, then stumbled to her own room for a much-needed nap.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wren woke up around sunset, roused by the sound of what was unmistakably her blender running on its highest setting. She bolted upright, groaning softly; she’d fallen asleep in an awkward position, and her back and neck were stiff. Her headache was almost gone, though, and tight muscles would loosen up once she got moving.

After a quick detour to the bathroom to blow her nose and fix her ponytail, she entered the kitchen to find Vul emptying the blender into two glasses. The alien had made some sort of frozen drink, bright purple and slightly fizzy. She was clearly eager for feedback, thrusting one of the two glasses at Wren with a toothy almost-smile. “Here, try!”

Hesitantly, Wren took a sip of whatever it was. It was sour, almost earthy, with a sweet aftertaste. She knew her taste buds were a little off, but even under normal circumstances there was no way Vul’s concoction would taste normal. Setting the glass down next to the sink, she tried to school her face into a neutral expression. “What did you put in this?”

“Mostly Sprite and blueberries, a few cherries. Oh, and a little bit of onion. I didn’t know when you’d wake up, so I wanted to help. It’s what we do back home for anyone who can’t get their own food, mix up whatever we have so we can share.” Vul shifted nervously, tail drooping until the tip almost brushed the floor. “Was that wrong?”

“No!” Wren reassured her. “It was sweet, thank you.”

Really sweet, actually. Vul had been through so much over the past month, logically she should be the one seeking comfort, but instead she’d gone out of her way to be useful. Wren never would have asked for help, hadn’t even wanted to admit she wasn’t feeling well and risk stressing her friend out even more, but Vul had seen right through her.

“I really appreciate it. Honest.” What did I do to deserve a friend like her?

“But you don’t want it.” Vul spoke quietly. Her voice was dull, weighed down by the same strange tension as earlier that day, and she held herself rigidly.

“That’s not your fault.” Wren bit back a laugh. “You had no way to know, but just for future reference, onions don’t go in smoothies.”

“Oh! Sorry, is it that bad?”

Wren shrugged, hoping to soften the blow. “How’s about I order takeout, and sometime soon I’ll teach you some better recipes?”

“Okay!” Now Vul was the one laughing, bright and warm. The sound tugged at some deep part of Wren, urging her to join in the fun.

Soon, both girls lay sprawled across the kitchen floor, wiping away tears of mirth while Wren tried to compose herself enough to read a menu.

“How does soup —EHHTCHOO! EHTSCHUU! TCHUU!— Ugh, sorry. How does soup sound?”

“I don’t know,” Vul hedged. “Does it have onions?”

Wren started up again, practically cackling. Her breath scraped against her sore throat, but right then, she didn’t care. “Onions are supposed to go in soup,” she wheezed between giggles. “Soup. Soup isn’t a smoothie.”

“Noted. What about the other things, though? Like blueberries, do blueberries go in soup?”

“No! Definitely not. Blueberry smoothies are good, blueberry soup is just weird.”

Vul rolled onto her side and stretched towards Wren, poking her in the arm playfully. “I don’t know what goes together. We don’t have any of this stuff at home.”

“That’s why I’m going to show you. HAHHTCHU! Hehh… hehh-hehh-ehhtchiew! Hhehtcheeeww!” Wren paused, waiting for her body to make up its mind. When no more tickles materialized, she swiped her wrist under her nose before continuing. “After I get over this cold.”

[completely-real-and-normal-human]

Why I, Tumblr User Completely-Real-And-Normal-Human, Am a Monsterfucker: A Non-Exhaustive Manifesto

I’m not even sorry.

First of all: Micheal Distortion, from TMA. Fuck-Hands Mc Mike. Mikey-What-Those-Fingers-Do. He of the gaping corridors, and hopefully gaping holes. What on earth is he doing behind all those closed doors? Or, as the case may be, who is he doing?

the answer is me it’s me he’s fucking me

(Art by CountSlimula on Twitter)

I don’t really think I need to explain myself here. But in case I do, there are two main things I find remarkably attractive about Micheal (that I can adequately articulate): its voice and its hands.

Let’s start with his voice. Micheal’s voice is static-y and warping and always slightly amused. Now THAT is the kind of voice I’d want whispering sweet nothings in my ear. And that’s without even mentioning his laugh — god, can you even IMAGINE what his moans would sound like? Perfection.

Then there’s his hands. You can’t really see it in the first picture, so here’s another one.

(Art by Creativelea2 on Twitter)

He has fingers. I have holes. Enough said, I think.

Next, also a character from TMA, we have one Jared Hopworth. The Bone-Turner. Maker of Menacingly Meaty Murmurs. A man who owns, in all likelihood, a briefcase of carefully selected cocks.

(Art by @neonjawbone)

I’m sure it comes as a surprise to no one that I thoroughly enjoy a good pair of pecs. Jared probably has more than one pair, actually, so that’s several plus points right there. Here, finally, is a man who does body-building right.

As with Micheal, there is also the question of his voice. It’s deep, rumbling, gravelly… the kind of thing I want to hear when he’s busy splitting me in half, you know?

Finally, there’s the multiple limbs. He’d know what to do with all those hands, I’m sure. They’d hardly be lying idle.

Onwards! This time it’s Yaretzi, from Hello From The Hallowoods. Starwolf. Covenant of Tolshetol Who Guards A Thousand Suns. Loving coparent of a large metal son.

(Art by @cotton-glass)

She’s a werewolf, which maybe puts her more into ‘furry’ territory rather than ‘monsterfucker’, but we ball.

Firstly, while Yaretzi is an undeniably sweet person, she’s also fairly terrifying. And ‘women who could kill me’ are fairly high on my list of attractions. Secondly, her voice (again, I know, but most of the media I consume are podcasts so deal, I guess). It’s just the right shade of deep and soft. Amazing.

Also I want her to bite me.

There are more examples, but we’ll be here forever if I try listing them, so I’ll leave it there. I could go into detail about the deeper meaning behind my attraction to these beautiful beasties, but I’m going to see how the masses respond to this first. Besides, this has been in my drafts for entirely too long and I just want to post it at this stage.

(Shoutout to @zombieesc. Thanks for the monsterfucker hype, my friend.)

Edit: I’m a minor, so feel free to rb this post talking about how much you like any of the characters I’ve mentioned, but keep it reasonably PG.

[jesslovesboats]

whats your fav historical boat and why ??:)

Hello 🙂 I'm so glad you've asked this question and I promise to be extremely normal about it 🙂

I can find something to love in almost every polar and/or nautical expedition, but nothing has captured my attention and my heart like the Karluk, the flagship of the Canadian Arctic Expedition.

The ship herself was a disaster. Built in 1884 as a fishing vessel, she was repurposed as a whaler in 1892, then acquired by Stefansson in 1913 for the bargain bin price of $10,000. The Karluk was uniquely unsuited for polar exploration-- she was old, rickety, and had what chief engineer John Munro described as a "coffee pot of an engine" that was so ineffective that icebreaking was out of the question. Captain Bartlett almost refused to take her north, but in the end, he acceded to Stefansson's demands. He would come to regret this decision.

In the least surprising turn of events ever, the Karluk became trapped in the pack only a month into the voyage, hundreds of miles from her destination. She remained there until she succumbed to the pressure of the ice and sank five months later, setting the stage for one of the most unbelievable survival stories in the history of polar exploration.

Why the Karluk? For me, it's that the ship was such a perfect metaphor for the expedition itself, which is not always the case! For example-- Terra Nova was overloaded and leaked like a sieve, but the expedition she supported was meticulously planned. Endurance could not withstand the pressure of the pack, but even so, her entire crew survived. The Karluk, though? A nightmare ship with a nightmare (derogatory) leader and a nightmare (affectionate) crew for a nightmare expedition. No part of this should have worked, and it's a miracle that anyone made it home. If not for the selfless actions and basic human decency of a select few crew members and the kindness and generosity of the Indigenous peoples of the Arctic, no one would ever know what happened to them.

Stefansson was simply the worst leader imaginable for a venture like this. He was smug, aloof, selfish, willing to play games with the lives of his men, and hopelessly out of his depth. He failed to adequately provision the expedition, a decision that would prove fatal. The crew he hired were a mix of polar veterans with substance abuse and/or ego problems, Indigenous people (including a family with 2 small children), untested men recruited off the docks, and inexperienced scientists not coping well with the rigors of exploration, among others. I need you to understand that these are my boys and I love them, but they were a MESS. The atmosphere on the Karluk and in the subsequent camps was a toxic sludge of fear and anger and paranoia and egos. No one here was elevated by their suffering, there was no code of honor keeping the men in line, and there were painfully few moral leaders setting examples for the others. With apologies to The Terror, survival was a nasty piece of business. To top it all off, Stefansson abandoned the Karluk and her crew after the ship became frozen in. He went on a "hunting trip" but conveniently failed to return. Leadership!

Hopefully this helps to explain why the Karluk is a perfect metaphor for this part of the Canadian Arctic Expedition. Only an old, crumbling whaler with a tiny, ineffective engine could have shepherded this disaster team to the shores of Wrangel Island. The Karluk was not the ship they needed, but she was the ship they had, and even Captain Bartlett grieved as she sank.

For more information, I highly recommend checking out The Ice Master by Jennifer Niven and Empire of Ice and Stone by Buddy Levy. I also Karlukpost regularly, and you can find my screeching in the Karluk tag.

I hope this answered your question, thanks for a fun ask! ❤️

[drinkpisser]

MY HESITANT ALIEN FIC, HOW IT CAME TO BE CHAPTER 4! :p 🛸

This one shall be quite interesting for sure, dearest readers 😈🙏

Enjoy and thank you sm if you do check it out!!!<3

PREVIOUS CHAPTER/S:

begin reading chapter 4 beneath the cut!

----------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 4: DRUGSTORE PERFUME

Ray had been awaiting Gerard's return for a full week now. A week without his best friend, just as glum as you can imagine it. Actually having to take part in a routine, listening in on other people's conversations because you can't have your own, waiting for each day to end so you can be even lonelier at night. He had company, sure, but what's company if you've never felt so isolated?

Desperate to retrace his vacant steps, Ray decided to walk the paths Gerard mentioned he would cycle. This resulted in nothing more than some wheel tracks, yet anything is a clue at this point. He followed, careful to not tamper with the traces left. To his detriment, the woods seemed to be identical with each corner he turned.

Just a mundane old forest, what did Gerard see in it?

Ray pauses. A bike is leant against the stump of a tree, one wheel deflated and the other poorly attempting to keep its balance. He was here. Transfixed on the plethora of predatory situations he could have been in, Ray loses focus on his main objective- to gather clues. Does he go back and tell someone he could be in danger? Would they even believe him? The staff questioned him harshly enough already, accusing him of assisting Gerard in running away and covering his back so he wouldn't get in trouble. He feels like nothing but a nervous wreck, struggling to keep up with the rushing turmoil in his head.

"Ray?" an unsuspecting voice asks.

His heart palpitates, startled. His neck recoils so quickly that it could have snapped off his body. It was only a rugged, exhausted Gerard stood in front of him, sporting a clueless expression on his face and scratching his head like nothing ever happened.

"What're you doing here? It's super early, right?" he repeats.

"You-" Ray struggles to find an adequate response in disbelief, "You've been gone for fucking days, dude!"

"I was just getting a pump for the tyres, they busted on me whilst I was biking. I couldnt have been too long- maybe a half hour?" he responds, dismissing the claim. To Gerard's dismay, he wasn't fully aware that the passage of time is extremely warped in different realities. A few harmless hours to him was more than likely a week and a half for Ray.

"You're serious- you're serious! You don't know how long you've been!?" Ray disputes. Gerard was blank as a sheet, giving in to a defeated shrug.

Nope, he doesn't know. Idiot.

"You dont even have- where were you, Gee? At least answer me that. My bare ass has been on the stove for you over here. And you look like shit!"

...

"I- I don't know." Growing more disoriented, he finds it increasingly difficult to come up with a realistic answer. It had already been a confusing time for Gerard, and all these questions weren't helping his case even if they were reasonable enough.

Ray sighs, "I can't stay mad at you. Just take me with you next time, at least. Wherever you were it couldn't have been that fun on your own."

Gerard resorts to a hug in order to comfort Ray's visually apparent distress. He wishes he could tell him the truth with his entire soul, but he couldn't bare to see what could happen if he did. More than anything, he was afraid. That's why he needed to start creating art as soon as possible, to save everyone.

"If you need to talk about anything- you know I'm here, yeah?" Ray adds.

"Yeah." Gerard smiles mildly.

Ray pats his back, and they get to walking back to the main area of camp, almost clinging onto eachother. As Gerard reconciles with familiar faces, Ray awkwardly clenches his teeth in a feeble attempt to smile. Spotting Frank, they head in the direction of the bench he's sat on.

Frank raises an eyebrow, dropping the nachos he was just snacking on, a baffled "That's Gerard?" exiting his mouth.

"Sorry, I don't recognise you-" Gerard discloses.

"This is Frank," Ray chirps once again, "he bought me cookies and now we're pals. He likes Iron Maiden and plays guitar too!"

Affectionately, Ray slaps Frank on the back of his shoulders, causing him to eject a sheepish "owch!".

"Awh, cool! Nice to meetchya Frankie." Gerard grins, awkwardly shaking his dorito dusted hand.

"Gerard Arthur Way! There you are!" a disciplinary voice hollers.

"Well shit." Gerard mutters, the boys snickering slightly at his remark. Almost dragged by the hood, Gerard is indefinitely sent off to a questioning of some sort.

The staff member escorts him to an important looking room, featuring an even more important looking name tag on the desk: 'Principal'. Surrounding it, there are small, framed photographs of staff members and past campers, who seem tremendously happier than anybody here currently.

Just gotta survive this interrogation without giving everything away, he monologues in his doomed brain. So doomed... So fucked.

A stern looking woman clicks her heels as she enters the secluded room, taking a seat as she glares intensely into Gerard's entire existence.

"Where were you? Is everything okay? Were you hurt?" Just as he'd anticipated, the questions came flooding insufferably in.

"Hey, listen..." Gerard pinches the bridge of his nose as if he's in excruciatingly dire pain, "I just got back and i ain't feelin' well. I fell over and busted my lip, see? Can I please go to the nurse instead?" He believes that reverse psychology is effective, and that his injuries from over a week ago look fresh. Oh, dear. Maybe save the big ideas for when you turn 25 next time.

She grumbles, shaking her head.

"Not yet. You can afterwards, however."

She begins jotting down notes. Following this, she looks at Gerard expectingly, despite his nervous silence.

"So?" she suggests, tapping her pen against the clipboard she's writing on.

"So, what?" Gerard backchats, crossing his arms and deciding to play smartass.

"So, what were you doing outside campus, unauthorised for a fortnight?" she demands the question.

He tuts, rolling his eyes. A surpisingly bold move for him, but a typical one. He grows cockier, due to the hindrance and his heightening feelings of annoyance towards having to answer for himself.

"I like, ran off for a week, 'cause I'm bored shitless of this place..." he smirks, "In other words, I skipped. What're you gonna do about it, kick me out? I already left once."

The principal lets out a diabolical gasp.

Gerard knew from that alone, he was not going to get away from this any easier than before he opened his mouth.

"What I can do is expel you, young man! That won't be a laugh to explain to your parents, will it?" she exclaims at the top of her lungs.

"Do it! I don't fuckin' care. I'm worth more than this place anyways, and so is Ray. If you're gonna kick me out, at least do the same for him. Leaving him alone in this dump was the mistake i made, not skipping." he rants.

"You're really about to do this?" she lowers her voice in concern.

Gerard glances around in hesitation before doubling down on his claim, his eyes lighting up slightly.

"Yeah."

That felt like a strangely refreshing moment for Gerard, as though being argumentative with higherups was the epitome of being punk and an absolutely rock solid act on his behalf.

"Alright, we'll call your parents to pick you up. And Ray can go with you, he's in deep trouble because of you now. I hope you understand that." she lectures.

"Aight," he scoffs, getting up out of the chair he'd slumped in.

"I'm out."

He storms out of the office desperately searching for Ray and Frank, not realising they had snook off and waited outside right next to him.

"Hm, I heard yelling." Frank observes, pursing his lips.

Gerard turns to each of them almost instantly.

"Oh, thank god-" Gerard clutches onto both Ray and Frank's arms with an underlying agression.

"We gotta go, like, now! I am so serious!" he blurts out obsessively.

"Dude, wh-" Ray begins, interrupted by the snatch of Gerard's run. He drags them behind a bush, heavily encouraging them to be silent with a desperate "shh!".

Several staff members rush past the glorified pile of leaves shielding the three.

"Can someone please tell me what is going on?!" Ray hisses through a whisper.

"Okay, okay! I will. I spewed bullshit to the principal lady. Told 'er I skipped on purpose. She threatened to expel me so I humoured 'er and said you shouldn't be left here alone and-"

"Sorry, the fuck do I have to do with this?" Frank interrupts.

"Just sit and look pretty or somethin' whilst I explain the goddamned situation! You're involved 'cause you are. I wasn't about to just leave ya." Gerard groans.

Frank huffs.

"So... You sold me out and lied?" Ray disputes in confusion, a slight look of upset on his face.

"No- I just thought if I said that as a bluff I could get us out of here quicker. You want to leave, right?" Gerard defends.

Ray remains silent for a few seconds, considering it.

"Screw it." Ray beams.

A feeling of relief washes over Gerard's sweaty face, glad that his stupidity didn't get taken the wrong way.

Two staff members park themselves not too far away, beginning to discuss.

"Ray is now gone, they must have been planning some kind of rebellion from the beginning." One starts.

Frank raises an eyebrow.

"Hey, seeing as I'm the pretty one I could go ask what they're gonna do to ya."

He rolls his eyes with a pinch of salt, getting up on his own accord. Gerard knew it was best to not crush Frank's withering dignity any further, so he let him get on with it. Ray watched closely in slight suspense. Frank hunches over, approaching the two staff members all whilst kicking some gravel and looking down inside of himself.

"Mcscuse me, what's goin on?" he asks with innocent eyes.

"Do you have any idea where your accomplices are? Ray Toro and Gerard Way?" the staff's dialect felt restrictive.

"Can't say I do. Why's the matter?" Frank asks further, intentionally using poor phrasing for cool effect.

"They are to be arrested, and cannot leave the premises under any circumstance."

Gerard chokes. Ray's jaw is almost touching the grass. Frank elongates a whistle. He pauses, before then intelligently throwing a right hook towards the man's face.

"WE NEED TO GO!" He screams at the top of his lungs to the once concealed duo, snatching a plank of wood lying around and hoisting it underneath his greasy armpit.

Ray and Gerard chase behind him in desperation, quickly noticing the upcoming dead end. It would be futile to look back now, they're already being ambushed!

"Oh, Frank! What the fuck were you thinking runnin' this way?!" Gerard cusses.

Frank briefly catches his breath, before screeching at the barbed wire fence.

"There's a reason I stole a plank of wood, jackass! We're gonna use it to cross the old river behind this fence!" Frank begins climbing with a hint of pain from the spiky material separating the boys from freedom.

Gerard gulps in realisation. He can't swim, and his phobia of drowning doesn't make the idea of a flimsy bridge any better.

"Huh, now that's a funny joke, Frank-Anthony." he crosses his arms sarcastically.

"Does it look like he's joking!?" Ray complains, already up and over the fence. They're getting closer as Gerard grows in hesitation. In a fit of panic, Gerard snatches the plank of wood through a gap in the wall. The two teens shriek in annoyance.

"What the fuck!" Ray exclaims.

"Make your own way, I'll catch up!" Gerard blurts out. He'd honestly would rather them stay, he was consumed by fear. Ray denies before getting dragged away by an eager Frank, turning back in instant regret.

By now, Gerard had no coherent thoughts. The only energy coursing through his body was the adrenaline of facing danger head-on. He takes a swing at the current enemies, whacking the woodplank in half off of the now hostile janitor's head. Once his only weapon had shattered into shambles, he looted an unconscious park officer for any useful self defence. He manages to find a sharply ended hammer. Ooh, goody! A hammer! This will certainly end well.

Gerard suddenly feels a strange sensation of electricity within his weaponised palms. Visions of the mothership come lurking into his mind, clouding his perception of reality. Almost as though he was possessed, his scleras glow an iridescent white. All that was visible to his half-naked eyes we're the similar enhanced surroundings he'd witnessed before finding Lola. Nothing seemed quite right, not even the concept of nothing. His actions didn't feel like his own, as though the control room in his brain hit autopilot.

The rest of the committee come dashing in, and, as promised, Gerard begins bashing in, gushing the brains of old acquaintances onto the forest floor. He couldn't stop himself, no matter how hard he tried. Decrepit thoughts invade his mind- the deformed extraterrestrials, the secrecy, the defenselessness. The yearning to escape is too much for him; he can't take the strangeness anymore, and whatever can't make it stop in the moment should be destroyed. Or, maybe, was it that anything obstructing Gerard from the prophecised future was to be eliminated by an external force?

The hammer pierced the skin of its victim, critically damaging whatever it hit. As the bodies fell more and more, the static inflicting pain up Gerard's psyche faded.

Akin to the flicker of a light switch, he drops the bloodstained hammer in disbelief. As his pupils dilate, Gerard runs his red smothered fingers through his hair in distress and backs away from the remains he'd just bludgeoned. He can feel every erratic beat in his heart, one after the other, aching in dismal harmony.

Meanwhile, the others had crossed the unanticipatedly wide abandoned river using a derelict canoe. Still sailing, Ray's worries were still with Gerard.

"Don't you think staying with him would have been a better idea? I mean, I know him and he's not really a violent person. What if something's wrong?" he suggests.

"Try to relax. You're rambling," Frank comments, "He'll be okay, I promise. He surely must be if he didn't wanna go with us." he adds, troubled.

"Are- are you mad at him or something?" Ray enquires, perking his head up.

"No, just confused. I could've sworn he was acting off. There was this look in his face when he told us to run, and I'll be honest, it scared me." Frank speculates.

"Oh..." Ray frowns,

"I really do regret leaving him, though..." his words trail off in apprehension as he slowly taps Frank's shoulder to look in the same direction as him.

"Is that?-" Frank questions in a mildly bewildered state.

Gerard sat slumped on the grass awaiting the pair on the successful side of the river, his head askew in fatigue and his eyes swelled up with dainty tears.

"How did he get there so fast?" Frank asks in pure disdain.

Upon noticing the pair, Gerard gets up once again, debating on running away- only in fear of hurting who he cares about the most. He doesn't know how he even did that to those adults, he doesn't want to know. He wants to forget it. He wants to forget all of it. Even from afar, his shaking became exceedingly evident.

"Gee, it's gonna be fine! Just stay there, alright?" Ray attempts to comfort, shouting as softly as possible.

Gerard glances around himself once more, itching with a sense of paranoia. The two eventually head over to him, seeing through the bloodily drenched killer and envisioning a vunerable friend, allowing time for a group embrace. Gerard softens up, losing tension, and begins to sob like never before- he'd never felt fear like this before. It was a classic sense of dehumanisation, as though his pacifism had been violated.

After all, he wanted to save lives, not take them.

The miserable moon grows in exhaustion from lighting up the night, and gingerly begins to set. As the sun rose curiously, dawn declared a new muse for the trio. The feeling of comfort needed after a rough night, even if it was by their own hand. But they're merely teenagers, incapable of living those years entirely scuff free. Mistakes were bound to be made, even gorefilled ones. It just took a group hug for Gerard to realise it.

The trio begin to drift further away from the campsite, utilising the apricity shielding the cool morning breeze as a blanket of safety, following the light. They were about to go home, or maybe they'd already found it within eachother. Regardless, it was irrelevant how bad it was where they stayed anymore because, at the very least,

they were free from dreary old summer camp.

[khttrpg]

Cracks knuckles.

Alright team. Let's talk the next few months.

The short version is I'm going to have a basic version for v0.3 out by mid-September. The current plan is to finish work on it through June, finish privately testing it by mid-August, and then do a closed playtest with Patreon supporters through the rest of August. I'll make any further adjustments, playtest one more round if needed, and then throw it out to The People!

This is going to be a more compact initial release than previous versions. The version of the game to release will be through about level 21 (out of 100 levels). Unlike V0.2, though, it will be playable at release - no waiting to learn how to make enemies. There are several reasons for this smaller release, but the most important is changeability: this way, instead of needing full years to adjust everything I've made if something about the base game is completely off course, it'll only take a month or so. Quicker turnaround for adjustments!

I'll be sitting down to do a sort of psuedo-Q&A on Friday, June 28 on my Twitch at 7 PM EST- playing some Kingdom Hearts, answering questions as they come up, talking about what I've been up to and longer-term plans. If there's anything in this post that you don't understand or want elaboration on, send an ask, and I'll answer it on that stream!

Some of the big changes you can expect in V0.3, under a cut for brevity (some of the details and names may be subject to change still!):

Combat Stats. You know, in retrospect, there was no good reason to not use KH's existing ATK/DEF/MAG stats and just directly translate abilities using them. The new version has the actual stats used in KH games connected to the more roleplay-oriented Stats from previous versions - e.g. ATK being connected to Body - but ultimately separated in terms of usage.

Sword, Shield, Staff. This will appear in very basic form in this version, to be elaborated on once the core game has been adequately playtested. I've wanted to include the chance to "choose your path" since day 1, but could never find a way to integrate it; the addition of Combat Stats provided a clean opportunity to try it out!

Dice. This was something that got brought up relatively early on in the Discord, but at the time I didn't have the experience to handle it. Now I do! Attacks have a more standardized pattern and there's no longer going to be a situation where you can hit and do 0 damage. Not unless you intentionally do some really bad numbers. I can't stop you from that.

Job Classes -> Job Paths. There was a consistent issue in the first two versions, where the intent of job classes - to be loose guidelines rather than strict classes, with lots of mixing and matching - was unclear. They've been re-contextualized as sets of Abilities, with one feature being a prerequisite to the next. My hope is that this will allow people to view them closer to as intended, on top of some other interesting things that have opened up to do with them.

MP. I really wanted to stick to KH1-style MP because I love the low numbers and wanted so badly to make them work. But ultimately, the MP numbers from KH2 and KH3 were easier to deal with. There's just no #/5 equivalent to 12/100.

Hordes. Yes I've reworked them again. I'm so happy with them this time though!! I think I finally struck a balance to make it both quick and large. Hopefully. Playtesting permits.

Memories. Will finally be a full part of the game! There'll be ~5 options minimum at time of initial publishing. I'd REALLY like to get it up to 7 for that sweet sweet number symbolism, but that won't be a priority for this initial release.

Leveling. There will be a way to calculate the EXP for level ups, and that leveling is simpler to understand.

And other stuff! Some of it in too early stages to talk about for this release, some of it is just formatting, some of it is hard to explain quickly.

I will not be updating monthly, because after trying to make myself do that for several years now, I'm forced to accept that I'm not capable of doing so on a for-fun project. But I will make a concerted effort to be more present here and to keep everyone appraised of the Big milestones, like when I open up playtesting for patrons.

Thank you all so much for your patience, as always! <3

[attendsquoi]

Thea's Quest ~ Ch. 1

Chapter 1: Infiltrator

Summary: Thea, an unclaimed demigod, left Camp Half Blood after five years to become Wonder Woman’s protege. Today, Thea joins the Justice League's new covert team.

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Word count: 3.3k

Today was the day. Diana had finally convinced Thea to join the team of young heroes. The demigod was unfamiliar with most of the names, having spent the last five years removed from the outside world. Thankfully, Diana had given her a rundown of the situation - but first, it was time to meet Artemis.

Thea’s eyes adjusted as the lights from the zeta tube quickly dissipated. She and Diana were in Happy Harbor. 

“We’re early.” Thea remarked, following as her mentor walked into the main room.

“I know, but Oliver and I wanted you and Artemis to get the chance to meet before introducing you to the rest of the team. You’ll be new – but you’ll both be new together. Hopefully that’s a good thing.” Diana replied, stopping with a smile.

Thea nodded back.

As they waited, Thea looked around the cave – if that was an adequate description. While windowless, the space was incredibly high tech, with multiple computers and a large platform with built in holographics. Thea moved to hold her necklace, a small model of a hand holding up three fingers made of stygian iron, grateful for the magical gift that masks her godly scent and wards off monsters.

An automated voice broke her out of her thoughts.

“Recognized: Green Arrow, 08. Recognized: Artemis: B07.” 

Green Arrow, or Oliver, appeared through the zeta tube with a girl behind him. Diana walked forward to meet them.

“It is good to see you, Arrow.” She greeted.

“It’s good to see you too, Diana.” He replied jovially. 

“And it’s nice to meet you,” He said, looking at Thea.

“This is Artemis.” He gestured to the girl beside him. She stood straight, but her confident front betrayed her, revealing her insecurities to Thea.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Thea.” The girl replied.

“Sorry if this is rude, but are you an Amazon too?” Artemis asked her.

“Thea is a demigod – half mortal, half deity. I recruited her as she’s already part of my world.” Diana answered for Thea.

“May I ask how you started working together? I understand you are not the first protege archer.” Thea inquired.

“I’m his niece.” “She’s my niece.” The two answered simultaneously. 

Thea raised an eyebrow, sensing a lie, but didn’t question further. Everyone’s allowed their secrets.

~~~

Just then, Batman and Red Tornado entered the room, and Wonder Woman and Green Arrow moved to talk to them. Artemis and Thea followed at a distance, quietly making small talk. As soon as the team appeared, Artemis and Thea were thrown into a whirlwind of introductions. Thea vaguely recognized Robin, and Aqualad, Miss Martian, and Superboy were easy enough to tell apart.

Suddenly, the zeta tube rang out.

“Recognized: Kid Flash, B03.”

“The Wall-man is here!” Called a voice, even before Thea could see his face.

“Now let’s get this party star! – ted…” Kid Flash, or “the Wall-man” said, tripping on the ground.

Thea couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at the sight of the supposed superhero lying on the floor. Swim trunks and beach inflatables weren’t a particularly flattering look.

“Wall-man, huh? I love the uniform. What exactly are your powers?” Artemis teased.

“Uh, who is this?” Kid Flash questioned.

“Artemis, your new teammate.”

“Kid Flash, never heard of you.” 

Thea moved to rest her hand on her hip, amused by the interaction. She caught Aqualad’s glance and they shared an endeared eye roll.

That was when Kid Flash noticed the other new person in the room.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“Thea.” She replied.

“Thea is my protege, she’s been working with me for a few months and I wanted her to join the team.” Wonder Woman added, moving to rest a hand on Thea’s shoulder. 

“And Artemis is my new protege.” Green Arrow finally intervened.

“What happened to your old one?” Kid Flash interrogated.

The computer rang through the cave.

“Recognized: Speedy, B04.” 

“Well for starters he doesn’t go by Speedy anymore. Call me Red Arrow.”

A man walked through the zeta tube, clearly Green Arrow’s old sidekick. 

Between Artemis and Kid Flash's sarcastic remarks, Red Arrow introduced the team’s mission: protect Dr. Serling Roquette and destroy her “fog.” Thea didn’t have much context to the love lost between Red and Green Arrow or the institution they referred to as the “Shadows” – but that didn’t matter now. She could do research after they neutralized the weapon. 

~~~

After Red Arrow left, the team took a few minutes to gather supplies and make their way to the high school. Diana stopped Thea before she could follow. 

“I know how new this world is to you, and I know you know how new this team is to the world – but you’ll be fine. You may not have been fighting supervillains, but you’ve certainly battled your own monsters. Good luck.” 

“Thank you.” Thea answered, then left in the direction she saw the others go in.

Upon entering what turned out to be a hangar, a large plane-like structure caught Thea’s attention. 

“That’s the bioship!” Miss Martian called, walking up to her.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get much of a chance to get to know each other, and I bet you have a ton of questions, but I’m sure you’ll do great.” The martian continued.

“I appreciate it.” Said Thea.

“Follow me!” Miss Martian replied.

As the girls approached the ship, Miss Martian held out a hand and a ladder grew out of the ship.

“Neat trick.” Thea told her with a smile.

“Thanks!” The Martian girl seemed genuinely excited by her comment.

The two got into the ship and the rest of the team filed in shortly after. Thea gave Artemis a smile when she sat down next to her. Neither spoke, but they shared a mutual understanding.

“Thea, forgive us for our earlier distraction,” Aqualad said as he sat down, “It is nice to meet you.”

“Thank you, and no apology needed.” The demigod replied.

“I’ve never heard of you!” Robin exclaimed, seeming perturbed by his lack of knowledge on the newbie.

“I didn’t even know Wonder Woman had a sidekick!” Kid Flash added.

“Robin. Kid.” Aqualad reprimanded.

Thea smiled.

“It’s fine. I’m sure you all have plenty of questions. I’ll do my best to answer.” She said as she took out her dagger and inspected it.

“Well first, I guess I want to know why you need that.” Robin said, gesturing to the weapon in her hands.

“Yeah! I mean, if you’re like Wonder Woman, don’t you have, like, superstrength and flight and that sort of thing?” Kid Flash clarified.

“Like Diana, I am a demigod, but she and I are very different. For starters, she’s an Amazon – which already makes her stronger than most mortals – and a daughter of Zeus.”

Miss Martian interrupted before anyone got the chance to ask more questions.

“We’ve arrived at Red Arrow’s coordinates. Taking us down now.” She announced.

Thea was secretly relieved. It wasn’t that she really had anything to hide, but she’d only been working as a “superhero” for a few months. She already felt pretty far out of her comfort zone. She didn’t want to try to explain the nuances of being unclaimed too. 

~~~

Once inside the high school, Thea stationed herself by a window in the computer lab. She didn’t want to crowd the doctor, not to mention she felt more in control in the corner. There, she could see the whole room and had a clear view of the street outside. Thea may feel uncertain about how to interact with the team, but strategy and fighting? Those she could do.

Everyone online? Miss Martian’s voice rang out in Thea’s head.

Oh, this is weird. Artemis and Thea thought at the same time. The girls immediately looked at each other and giggled.

And distracting. Dr. Roquette thought, turning to glare at the girls. Artemis rolled her eyes and Thea raised her hands in surrender.

Coding a distributed algorithm virus on a kiddie computer with less RAM than a wristwatch is hard enough. Now I have to hear teen think in my skull? The doctor exclaimed, tossing her hands in the air.

Lady, do you always complain when someone tries to help you? Kid Flash said.

Pot, kettle. Have you met? Artemis replied.

Hey, I do not need attitude from the newbie who drove Red Arrow off the team. Kid Flash snapped.

That is so not on me. Artemis retaliated.

She’s right. I’m new too, and whatever Red Arrow’s deal is – his actions are his own. He chose not to join, that’s his problem, not hers. Thea spoke up, defending Artemis. 

Fate of the world at stake. Dr. Roquette interrupted.

She started it. Kid Flash whined.

Oh my gods. Thea complained.

How about I help Miss Martian and Superboy patrol the perimeter? Artemis suggested.

Good idea. Aqualad replied curtly.

Thea sent the girl a smile as she left the room.

You might cut her some slack. It was her arrow that saved your butt against Amazo. Robin said to Kid Flash after Artemis was gone.

What? No, that was Speedy's... I mean, Red Arrow's arrow, right? Kid Flash insisted.

Not so much. Robin said.

Huh. Well, still not giving her the satisfaction. Kid Flash replied.

Thea rolled her eyes.

You know, I can still hear you. Artemis remarked from out of view.

Thea grinned, proud of her teammate’s tenacity.

Argh! Kid Flash exclaimed.

I couldn't get the Justice League. Dr. Roquette complained. 

The virus won't be of much use if we cannot find the weapon. Aqualad finally intervened, focused on the task at hand.

Can you track it? He asked.

My utility fog is not a weapon. It's science, brilliant science. Dr Roquette insisted.

And of course I can track it, but I'd have to go online. Might as well rent a billboard with this address and "assassinate me" written in neon.

As much as the woman put on a strong front, Thea could tell her kidnapping had left a toll. She was afraid.

We will protect you. Aqualad told her, calmly.

Dr. Roquette paused.

Tracking the fog now.

~~~

As the doctor worked on the computer, Thea moved toward the center of the room. She maintained her view of the window, but decided that being right next to it made her an easy target – and had the potential to raise questions if a passerby were to see a fully armed Greek warrior in the school’s computer lab.

Mmm that boy. Came Artemis’ voice through the mind link.

It took Thea a second to figure out what was happening.

He can hear you. We can all hear you! Miss Martian blurted out in response.

Oh, I know. Artemis replied.

Thea raised her eyebrows, half scoffing at the archer. She caught Aqualad’s eye and gave him a shrug.

Suddenly, the computer pinged.

Miss Martian, Dr. Roquette has located the fog. Aqualad announced.

Refigure the ship so Thea, Robin, and Superboy can pursue. He added, nodding at the two team members in the room.

Ready. Came the martian’s reply.

Robin ran out of the room to meet Superboy at the bioship. Thea was about to follow when a movement caught her eye. Immediately, she turned around, swinging her sword and knocking a sai out of the air. In front of her was a girl with a mask of a cat that covered her face. 

“Doctor, get down!” Aqualad commands out loud.

“Not too bad, new girl.” The woman said to Thea.

M’gann, Kid, Artemis, we are under attack in the computer lab. He said.

On our way. Artemis replied.

I’m busy – Robin, Superboy, go without me. Thea commanded.

Thea was engaged in combat with the assailant. The woman was fast and clearly well trained, but as a demigod, Thea was born for battle. As the woman got closer, Thea realized her sword wasn’t as effective a close range tool. Thea twisted her arm, moving to hit the woman’s wrist with the flat side of her sword – knocking the weapon she planned to throw down and giving Thea enough time to sheath her sword and take out her dagger. Not without anger, Thea realized how grateful she was for all that time spent sparring with Luke, growing proficient with the smaller weapon. Unfortunately her brief memory served as just enough of a distraction for the woman to swipe her legs under Thea’s feet, knocking her to the ground. Thea fell back, catching herself on her hands. Her wrist screamed in pain, preventing her from pulling herself back up.

Thea heard a sai go flying through the air, but was relieved to see Aqualad knock it away from the doctor in the nick of time.

“Almost.” The woman said.

“Poison slowing you down?” She asked Aqualad, feigning concern as another sai embedded itself in his skin.

“Jellyfish toxin. I'm largely immune.” Aqualad insisted.

“Largely.” The woman mocked. 

Thea was relieved to see an arrow come flying through the air.

“Don't move.” Artemis said, her eyes flitting between the attacker and Thea who had just managed to pull herself up.

“Heh. This gig's getting interesting.” The woman murmured.

Just then Miss Martian and Kid Flash ran into the room.

“Maybe a little too interesting.” She concluded, dropping a smoke bomb.

As the air cleared, it was obvious she had run away.

~~~

“Gone.” Kid Flash grunted.

“She’s getting away! You’re letting her get away!” Doctor Roquette cried.

Thea crossed her arms, walking over to stand by Artemis, wary of her injured wrist.

“This is all your fault. You were on perimeter! How’d that shadow get in?” Kid Flash yelled, accusing Artemis.

“That’s not fair.” Thea interjected.

“She’s right. I was outside too.” Miss Martian added. 

Thea and Artemis sent her a smile.

“Yeah, outside being distracted by her!” Kid Flash defended, pointing at Artemis. 

“Besides, I can’t be mad at you,” He continued.

You gave me mouth to mouth. Kid Flash said through the mind link.

We all heard that. Everyone responded.

“Dang it!” Kid Flash exclaimed.

“I didn’t do half as well during my first battle. I know you can’t have been Green Arrow’s sidekick for long.” Miss Martian assured Artemis.

“And Thea, you held your own against that shadow. But is your wrist okay?” She asked, turning to Thea. 

Thea glanced up at her from her bag as she took out a small flask. 

“I’ll be fine, but I appreciate the concern.” She said, taking a sip of nectar. Already she could feel the ache in her wrist ease.

“Focus, everyone. The shadows will be back.” Aqualad said after waiting to make sure Thea was okay.

“Robin to Aqualad.” They heard in their ear pieces.

“We're over Philadelphia. We've located the Shadow's next target: S.T.A.R. Labs.” 

There’s a pause.

“We're too late.” He radioed in again.

“It's destroyed, totally destroyed. The fog decimated it. This is bad. S.T.A.R. Labs is cutting-edge science. Now their secrets are in the hands of the enemy. What's our next move?” Robin asked.

“Rescan for that fog. Find it.” Aqualad directed, looking at Roquette.

“Robin, Superboy, come pick up Thea. We're moving the doctor.”

~~~

Robin and Superboy stopped back at the high school to pick up Thea while the rest of the team moved Dr. Roquette and rescanned for the fog.

“Thanks for coming back.” Thea said, as she sat down in the ship.

“Happy to. Sorry you got held up the last time.” Robin said with a smile and glance toward her wrist.

“No need to worry about me being a liability. Demigods heal fast, I’m all better.” Thea said, noticing his gaze.

Robin nodded back at her. He looked down at the screen tracking the fog.

“Next target’s a Wayne Tech facility.” He told Thea and Superboy.

“In theory it’s system software could be used to hack the –” He cut himself off.

Thea furrowed her eyebrows, glancing at Superboy.

“The what?” Superboy asked.

“Doesn’t matter.” Robin replied.

“What matters is Wayne Tech operates a 24-hour workforce. We'll never evacuate the building in time.” He continued.

Thea frowned, looking outside. They needed the virus to work.

Robin opened a hatch in the bioship.

“It’s downloading!” He said, as Thea and Superboy stood at the ready.

Below them, a van opened its door, revealing a man with a container – the housing for the fog.

“Don’t need it!” Superboy said, jumping out of the bioship.

“Holy Hera!” Thea exclaimed with a jump.

“Superboy!” Robin yelled at the same time.

The young boy sighed.

“He does that.” He told Thea.

The two watched as Superboy fell through the air, only to get hit by a massive laser from the guy in the van. As soon as Superboy hit the ground, the man released the fog.

“No!” Robin shouted, hopping out of the bioship and ziplining down to the building.

“Sure, leave the demigod who hasn’t touched technology in five years to pilot the alien ship. Why not?” Thea said with an exasperated sigh.

She watched to make sure Robin got safely inside before moving to sit down in the center seat. 

“Let’s try this.” She said to herself, placing her hands on the glowing orbs.

But it seemed the bioship knew what to do, morphing its steering operations into something Thea did know: chariot reins.

“Oh, I love you.” Thea said aloud, adjusting her hands in the straps and angling the ship down.

She landed in the parking lot behind Superboy, running out just in time to see him pushing another laser away from his face and walking toward the man. Thea ran up to him right as his hand connected with the man’s helmet, effectively knocking him out.

“Nice one.” She complimented.

Superboy seemed surprised to see her, turning around to see the bioship safely landed.

“You too.” He replied.

~~~

Robin let Thea pilot on the way back to Happy Harbor, content to give directions and have her steer.

“I still don’t understand why you get reins.” He said, thinking aloud.

“Me either. I mean, between horses and chariots reins are about the only thing I know how to drive with. But I still don’t know how or why the bioship seemed to understand that.” Thea responded.

“Wait, you don’t know how to drive a car?” Robin questioned.

“I’ve spent the last five years living in a summer camp for demigods. How would I have learned?” She asked rhetorically.

“That… makes sense, given that context. I guess there’s a lot we still don’t know about you.” Robin said.

Thea saw Superboy nod out of the corner of her eye.

“Well you’ve only known me for less than a day. Give it time.” She laughed.

Thea landed the ship outside the internet cafe where the team was standing. As the three heroes got out of the ship they caught part of their conversation.

“Artemis. Where is the assassin?” Aqualad asked as Dr. Roquette walked beside him, supporting some of his weight.

Thea frowned at the fragile state their leader seemed to be in.

“She, uh… She got away.” The archer replied.

“Oh, from you? Oh, big surprise. Notice, we got ours.” Kid Flash said.

He and Miss Martian walked up to the others and Thea, Robin, and Superboy joined them. Thea walked next to Artemis as Kid Flash moved forward.

“Cool. Souvenir.” He chirped.

Thea leaned forward to see what he picked up. It was the assassin’s disguise.

“Her mask? Unh! Did you see her… Her face?” Aqualad asked Artemis.

“It was dark.” Artemis responded, looking down.

Thea moved to rest a hand on her shoulder. Artemis glanced up at the girl gratefully.

“It is fine.” Aqualad replied assuringly.

“Thea, Robin, and Superboy neutralized the fog and Dr. Roquette is safe, thanks in no small part to you.” He continued.

Thea stepped back from Artemis, glad everything worked out.

“Welcome to the team.” Aqualad said, smiling at the two new members and shaking their hands in turn.

“I've always wanted sisters. Here on Earth, I mean.” She said to Artemis and Thea.

“I have 12 back on Mars, but, trust me, it's not the same.”

“I wouldn't know.” Artemis said.

“But thanks.” She smiled

Miss Martian elbowed Kid Flash.

“Ow!” He whined.

“Yeah, uh, welcome.” He finally said, shaking Artemis’ hand. 

[ohgodmyeyes]

Hey i hope it's okay if i ask this question.... i've read eventide and am now almost through with disassembly. Are you enjoying comments on your works or not so much? I'd love to tell you how great I think your stories are and how much they touch me, but after seeing that the comment function is turned off on eventide and you stopped replying to comments on disassembly at some point (even though the comments are legitimately so nice and full of praise) I was kind of unsure if you even want to read comments like that anymore or if you're tired of them.

having exhausted all of the free therapy the province is willing to provide me for now, i have to say i'm kind of delighted you asked this... because otherwise i wouldn't have the gall to talk about it:)

basically, it's nice to have an excuse to say: I LOVE GETTING COMMENTS ON MY STORIES!!! i read every single one i get, sometimes multiple times over, crying and thanking the universe that another human being noticed something i did and liked it.

that being said, i really haven't been in a good enough place to answer them for the past year or so, at least not to my satisfaction. i've started and stopped more replies to more messages/asks/comments i can count, only to delete what I've written and bury my head in a pillow halfway through: because i can't possibly answer them all in a timely fashion and i don't want anyone to think I'm favouring them; because what if the comment is too old, and the person who left it has outgrown my story; because what if my conversational tone is off; because what if the comment is entirely sarcastic, or full of slang, and i don't understand the intent well enough to make a good faith response; because what if answering causes me to in some way die; because what if what if what if...

and i wouldn't hold it against myself, except I've fallen victim to the same dysfunctional pattern in my personal & real life communications, too — i just can't answer anyone (yes i see you and you are beautiful), no matter how much I love them or how much they love me or what they're trying to communicate... which is a big big problem that goes a bit beyond not answering comments on my fanfics, admittedly. but the comments thing is surely a symptom of it, and it's just not something i can seem to force myself to overcome right now, at least not adequately.

because things always come back to star wars for me: I feel a little like I'm turning into sequels Luke. Not on purpose exactly; I've far from committed to that path, and still have quite a rich inner life that I hope to be able to project again sometime soon — hopefully in a way that continues to connect me to other people — because I think that's the most rewarding part of sharing online.

keeping this blog and my ao3 and writing when I can and sharing posts is what's keeping me connected right now, and even though it might seem like I'm ignoring people who try to reach out to me, please please understand that I'm not ignoring them/you at all. every time I post I'm kind of saying "I love you", even if that feels cheap or selfish.

i'm just a kind of "not okay" that I don't know how to express, or fix, with words... but Anakin Skywalker is someone I can still connect with in spite of it, and use to connect with others, even if (for now) that has to happen in ways that are trivial or in ways I can't reciprocate.

anyway... to answer your question again, because I understand I did go off on a bit of a tangent there, yes I definitely appreciate and read and absorb the responses people are kind enough to offer me. because I know I'm very lucky to still be getting any attention at all after all this time, and I'm endlessly grateful for the continued opportunity to connect (yes, very much in spite of a lack of any tangible evidence).

there are names I see here and on ao3 that are so important to me and my everyday that i would spiral if they ever went away entirely, and stories and comments i go back to again and again and again... in silence, like dusty old attic books, but again and again nonetheless.

part of the reason i turned the comments off on eventide was because I knew I was coming to a place where I wouldn't be able to honour them... I couldn't bear to do the same with disassembly at the time, partly because it had a smaller audience, and partly because the feedback on something i was (and am) still invested in so heavily still means so much to me.

now I'm not sure what the most responsible thing to do would be, which is very classically "me", but rest assured that I gravitate to the kindness people exude toward my work and that i bask in it and that no one's words are ever, ever wasted on me.

thank you, i love you. ❤️

[thesiblingsoftheblackandwhite]

The door creaks open. Blinky pokes his head in.

There you are.

Wiggly looks up from his hands and stares. Blinky offers a tiny wave and shuts the door behind him, a plate in his hands. He steps over the sleeping bag Pokey had brought in just a night ago and gestures for his brother to move over. Wiggly complies, sliding over to the edge of the uncomfortable couch while biting his inner lip. Bliklotep settles next to him.

I thought you would be in the dining room.

Y’wrath shrugs.

I brought you this.

Blinky lifts the plate from his lap and presents it. Wiggly looks down at the cooked piece of meat on it. He’s reminded of the last time he and Blinky were in this room alone when the topic of food came up.

…Thanks.

He takes it quietly but doesn’t eat. Oh, he’s hungry; almost starving, but his conversation - if it could be called that - with John had left him feeling off. The superiority he’d felt when trying to tear apart his self-esteem had felt good, and made him feel alright for a few seconds, but after that…

Wiggog?

John had gotten to him, in what was hopefully a similar way in how Wiggly had gotten to him. Though he doubted that. John’s words had started up a strange feeling in his body. He almost wanted to pinpoint it as guilt. Guilt for what? Not hurting John, that was for sure.

Maybe it hadn’t only been John’s words. Maybe it had been his own - the type of taunts he had used were…they had been…

I’m sure you’re hungry.

Wiggog thins his lips and sets the plate down. He doesn’t say anything while he closes the gap between him and Blinky until they’re hip to hip and eases his head into his shoulder. Blinky doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around him, though he still furrows his brows in confusion.

What’s this about?

He’s never this touchy-feely, not like Nibblenephim. Y’wrath shrugs again and turns his head to bury it in Blinky’s shoulder. Underneath his newfound scent is a whiff of blood. Wiggog doesn’t question it.

OK.

Bliklotep has his concerns, obviously, but those can wait until morning. He holds Wiggly for however long he wants.

…You should eat.

Wiggly has the urge to ask if he’s a good brother. Which is an entirely stupid, nonsensical, thought that he should in no way be dwelling on. If he wasn’t, he would know. They would have let him know. Probably. Just like they had let Webblin know.

Oh! I found this in the dining room.

Blinky pulls a folded piece of lined paper out of his hoodie pocket.

It has a bunch of names and numbers. Do you know who wrote them?

Wiggly pulls himself away and grabs the plate. He picks up the fork and knife, grateful that his hands can work them adequately, and takes a bite, effectively not answering his question. Blinky looks at him oddly, but shrugs and leaves it next to him. He shuffles away to give Wiggog space.

…It’s good.

I’m glad.

After a few seconds, he continues.

I didn’t make it.

Wiggly keeps eating, feeling strange, as Blinky watches. When he’s close to done, Bliklotep keeps going.

I can stay for a little longer.

He wants to help if Wiggog is upset in any way, and some of that admittedly spurs from the guilt of yesterday. Wiggly looks up from his last bite of food. The creases that run under Blinky’s eyes, proving tiredness, are visible. He’s been kept awake enough. Wiggly keeping him here would take away any chance he has at a good sleep.

No.

It’s enough of a refusal that it sounds like he’s just being stubborn. Blinky accepts it without issue and holds out his hand to take the plate.

Go to sleep soon. We all need it.

As he’s walking away, Y’wrath calls out.

Bliklotep?

His brother stops and turns his upper body. Wiggly hesitates for less than two seconds.

I love you.

Though he misses it, Blinky’s face shifts and his shoulders lose tension. He smiles.

Love you, too.

Wiggly watches him go. The feeling lessens a bit.

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Googe Form:

What makes some species evolve from another/branch off but both species exist as now or not? Stuff like well, humans evolved from apes but apes and humans are both here. But birds evolved from dinosaurs but only the birds stay. Sure irl that may be because dinosaurs died out quickly. But when making my world, how do I determine these various things when I design my own flow of evolution? Also not to be rude but most of my project is focused on world building, not story so stuff like 'If it doesnt affect story, don't bother' is completely not applicable.

Tex: Well you’re in luck, this is a worldbuilding blog and not a story-writing one. Unfortunately the two do meet and have quite a lot of overlap, so if you’re looking for facts only, I would suggest taking a stroll through Wikipedia and not an opinion blog focused on the background work that makes a written world engaging to their readers.

That being said, evolution is a matter of pressures in one’s environment. It’s not uncommon for a species to branch itself off so there’s less competition of resources in a given niche environment - this is how you see species who only eat one type of bug or only pollinate one type of flower. The larger a species gets, and the more omnivorous, the greater their potential territory is, with the caveat that more energy is spent on finding food than it is on eating it.

A quick and easy route is to have a greater population of a species than an environment can tolerate, and then a couple or a few enterprising - or desperate - members of that species look to seek new territory where they have an adequate food supply and less competition.

Wootzel: It might help to avoid thinking of any single species evolving. If a population changes enough that it’s different than the ancestors, that’s a new species.

Let’s say you have bird A living in meadows on a certain continent. A set of mutations crop up in bird A’s population, and over time, these mutations are really successful. Birds that have these mutations are sufficiently different than their ancestors that they are a different species, so let’s call them bird B. Maybe at the same time as they emerge as different than bird A, members of species bird B outcompete A. By the time it’s really obvious that the birds in this meadow are different, bird A is extinct. That does not make this the same species, evolved. It could just as easily have worked out that both species now live in the same area but fill different niches, or that one species moved away from the area. 

What makes species branch out? Random mutations in a population that either change how they interact with their environment, make them more suited to a new environment, or cause them to compete differently with others. Practically, though, what usually causes noticeable species branching is distance. If a population is spread out over a large area, the individuals living far away from each other are unlikely to trade genetics very often, so they might become different if the population is spread out over a large area like a continent. Alternatively, a natural barrier is a potential species branch cause; if the climate changes and a species of squirrel can no longer cross a mountain range, the populations on either side of that range are likely to become different over time. 

What causes a species to die while another remains? Environmental pressure. This can be climate, other species, terrain, presence or absence of food sources, etc. When one species has a slight advantage due to traits, that one might survive a devastating event that kills a similar species. 

I don’t mean to sound insulting, but this question sounds like it comes from a place of not understanding the processes of evolution very well. Hopefully our answers have helped somewhat in how to think about evolution and extinction, but some deeper and more detailed reading on the theory of evolution may help deepen your understanding and give you clearer ideas of when and why species in your world might diverge, converge, or die out. 

[seven-meds]

I just got hit with the BIGGEST dose of dopamine looking through your marble collection. I like pretty things!! I love collecting things!!

So, how does one get into marble collection?

(Also, I did not know that marbles aren't all round!! I really love the twisty marbles in your collection!)

That's wonderful to hear! I'm always glad to know people are enjoying marbles… they're one of humanity's greatest achievements. A feat of art and science.

I'm not certain if you are asking me how I got into marbles or how someone in general could begin collecting marbles, so I will answer both:

The catalyst for my own interest in marbles was me waking up one day and feeling like a marble. As in, my conceptualization of my own body and self was that of a marble - specifically a marble in a very large, empty room. I don't think I can adequately explain this... If you imagine yourself, what enters your mind immediately, what informs your concept of your body and how it moves through the world - for me, it suddenly was a marble. This change in form and identity made me yearn to look at and touch marbles, in the same way humans are interested in looking at and touching other humans.

I once made a list of all the ways marbles are similar to Arthur, which may be the easiest and most condensed way to get across my feelings about marbles as a whole. I’ve uploaded it here.

But beyond that, marbles are art! To ask why someone might collect them is like asking why someone would hang a painting in a room. Marble making is an artform that requires highly specialized knowledge and complex machinery. It's not as simple as mixing glass together and shaping it into a sphere. And contemporary glassworkers are doing things with marbles that are unique and innovative… marbles continue to evolve and change. Your pointing out that not all marbles are round is actually an astute observation and one that is contentious in the marble space now that marble making is no longer confined to corporate standards. What exactly makes a marble? This is the question modern marble makers are seeking to answer.

As for how one can begin collecting marbles themselves, I first recommend familiarizing oneself with vintage marble companies and their output. Marble Alan's site is a great place to start. I personally began my collection with Jabo marbles, which are both gorgeous and monetarily accessible. Ebay is the hub for vintage collecting if you become serious about it, and modern marble makers tend to have either their own stores or stores on etsy and the like. I personally use GlassORBits for finding contemporary makers. And of course the marble collecting subreddit is always worth a look.

Hopefully this answered your question!