#i had to fix it just for my own archival purposes really

[maypop-the-dragon]

PSA: Free Software

Reading this may really save your time, privacy, and money! Reblog or share to spread awareness!

Folks often use software that’s expensive and sometimes even inferior because they don’t know there are alternatives. So to those unfamiliar: basically, free and open-source (FOSS) or "libre" software is free to use and anyone can access the original code to make their own version or work on fixing problems.

That does not mean anyone can randomly add a virus and give it to everyone—any respectable libre project has checks in place to make sure changes to the official version are good! Libre software is typically developed by communities who really care about the quality of the software as a goal in itself.

There are libre alternatives to many well-known programs that do everything an average user needs (find out more under the cut!) for free with no DRM, license keys, or subscriptions.

Using libre software when possible is an easy way to fight against and free yourself from corporate greed while actually being more convenient in many cases! If you need an app to do something, perhaps try searching online for things like:

foss [whatever it is]

libre [whatever it is]

open source [whatever it is]

Feel free to recommend more libre software in the tags, replies, comments, or whatever you freaks like to do!

Some Libre Software I Personally Enjoy…

LibreOffice

LibreOffice is an office suite, much like Microsoft Office. It includes equivalents for apps like Word, Excel, and Powerpoint, which can view and edit files created for those apps.

I can't say I've used it much myself yet. I do not personally like using office software except when I have to for school.

OpenShot

OpenShot Video Editor is, as the name suggests, a video editing program. It has industry-standard features like splicing, layering, transitions, and greenscreen.

I've only made one video with it so far, but I'm already very happy with it. I had already paid for a video editor (Cyberlink PowerDirector Pro), but I needed to reinstall it and I didn't remember how. Out of desperation, I searched up "FOSS video editor" and I'm so glad I did. There's no launcher, there's no promotion of other apps and asset packs—it's just a video editor with a normal installer.

GIMP

GNU Image Manipulation Program is an image editor, much like Photoshop. Originally created for Linux but also available for Windows and MacOS, it provides plenty of functionality for editing images. It is a bit unintuitive to learn at first, though.

I've used it to create and modify images for years, including logos, really bad traceover art, and Minecraft textures. It doesn't have certain advanced tech like AI paint-in, but it has served my purposes well and it might just work for yours!

(Be sure to go to Windows > Dockable Dialogs > Colors. I have no idea why that's not enabled by default.)

Audacity

Audacity is an audio editing program. It can record, load, splice, and layer audio files and apply effects to them.

Audacity is another program I've used for a long time. It is not designed to compose music, but it is great for podcasts, simple edits, and loading legacy MS Paint to hear cool noises.

7-Zip

7-Zip is a file manager and archive tool. It supports many archive types including ZIP, RAR, TAR, and its own format, 7Z. It can view and modify the contents of archives, encrypt and decrypt archives, and all that good stuff.

Personally, I use 7-Zip to look inside JAR files for Minecraft reasons. I must admit that its UI is ugly.

Firefox

Firefox is an internet browser, much like Google Chrome, Microsoft Edge, or Safari. While browsers are free, many of them include tracking or other anti-consumer practices. For example, Google plans to release an update to Chromium (the base that most browsers are built from these days) that makes ad blockers less effective by removing the APIs they currently rely on.

Aside from fighting monopolies, benefits include: support for animated themes (the one in the picture is Purple Night Theme), good ad blockers forever, an (albeit hidden) compact UI option (available on about:config), and a cute fox icon.

uBlock Origin

As far as I know, uBlock Origin is one of the best ad blockers there is.

I was on a sketchy website with my brother, and he was using Opera GX's ad blocker. Much of the time when he clicked on anything, it would take us to a random sponsored page. I suggested that he try uBlock Origin, and with uBlock Origin, that didn't happen anymore.

Linux

Linux is a kernel, but the term is often used to refer to operating systems (much like Windows or MacOS) built on it. There are many different Linux-based operating systems (or "distros") to choose from, but apps made for Linux usually work on most popular distros. You can also use many normally Windows-only apps on Linux through compatibility layers like WINE.

I don't have all four of these, so the images are from Wikipedia. I tried to show a variety of Linux distros made for different kinds of users.

If you want to replace your operating system, I recommend being very careful because you can end up breaking things. Many computer manufacturers don't care about supporting Linux, meaning that things may not work (Nvidia graphic cards notoriously have issues on Linux, for example).

Personally, I tried installing Pop!_OS on a laptop, and the sound output mysteriously doesn't work. I may try switching to Arch Linux, since it is extremely customizable and I might be able to experiment until I find a configuration where the audio works.

Many Linux distros offer "Live USB" functionality, which works as both a demo and an installer. You should thoroughly test your distro on a Live USB session before you actually install it to be absolutely sure that everything works. Even if it seems fine, you should probably look into dual-booting with your existing operating system, just in case you need it for some reason.

Happy computering!

[mamadoc]

The next chapter of my fanfic is posted.

If you were waiting for the happy, angst-free, fluffy village without roller coaster part of the story to arrive to start reading, it’s here! Only minor angst remains.

Angela, Tamara, and Genny conspire to bring Tim and Lucy back together.

Here’s a snippet to pique your interest.

“Bradford,” Tim said as a call interrupted the audiobook he was listening to on his commute home. He couldn’t see his phone to see the caller ID, so he just pressed the button on his steering wheel to answer the call blindly.

“Hey, stranger. It’s been too long,” came the voice over the car speakers.

“Lopez?” Tim confirmed, immediately recognizing his best friend’s voice, but a little bit confused as to why she was calling. “What’s going on? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“You know. Same old shit. Just kicking ass, raising two kids, and trying not to kill my husband,” she rattled off.

Tim chuckled. Some things never change, he thought to himself as he shook his head. “What has Wesley done this time?”

“Well, he swears that he talked to me about this months ago, but I swear that I would have remembered this conversation if we had had it. So a couple nights ago, we were chatting about our plans for next month, and he asked me if I had taken the last two weeks of June off for our trip. I told him that we weren’t going anywhere for the last two weeks of June because that’s when Jack and Amelia are at their favorite summer camp. Then he told me that we had already signed them up for some international camp that Patrice paid for them to attend in Italy. After arguing about it for over an hour, apparently Wes and Patrice are taking the kids to Italy.”

“Wow. That sounds like quite the argument. Are you going to be able to join them at all?” he said with a low chuckle, envisioning the solid hour of yelling that would have shaken the walls of the Lopez-Evers house.

“I was able to swap shifts around to join them a little bit late. And, when Wesley explained the situation to his mom, she offered to buy me a first-class ticket if I would still join them. How could I saw no to that? I’ll be traveling to Italy by myself in first-class and can drink as much as I want without dealing with charging the kids iPads or settling arguments about who gets to sit by the window or lugging around two weeks’ worth of their crap. There’s no way I would say no to that. Plus, she rented this villa for us to stay at right next to a vineyard, and she won’t even be there most of the time because she’s meeting a friend to travel around Italy together. It’ll actually be a real vacation.”

“That sounds great, Ang. You deserve to have a break.” He wasn’t sure if she was just calling to vent or to share her luck at having a really nice vacation paid for by Patrice or if she had some other purpose in calling, so he just waited to see what she was going to say next.

“So now I only have a little problem left to resolve that I think you could help me with,” she said.

“How am I going to fix your vacation problems? I can’t exactly take your shifts or work overtime for you,” he said with an annoyed but curious tone to his voice.

Keep reading here.

I’d love to hear back from you.

[celestiarambles]

You'll be Safe Here

trigger warning: suicide, overdose, hospitalization, psychiatric hospitals, mental disorders

hi so i know y'all are tired of me trying to defend angela... but here's another fic defending her once again xD

this is kind of like a part 2 of you can't catch me now in lars' pov and this was kind of requested by @dinamo123xpq, i had planned to write this a long time ago but i got busy and now here it is!

also whenever i listen to the filipino song you'll be safe here (the lyrics are in english) it also kind of reminds me of lars and angela (i'll reblog it with the spotify link later haha)

so yeah i hope you'll endure my yapping about this for at least a little longer HAHA

Summary: Lars wasn’t supposed to care about Angela anymore. Once the Bureau was over, his plan was to settle their divorce papers and stay in Australia with his daughters for good…

Until he gets an important call.

Also cross-posted on Ao3: You'll be Safe Here - celestiamirasol - Criminal Case (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

It has been a week ever since the Bureau had officially dismantled SOMBRA for good. They only had to process paperworks and forensic evidence for every law enforcement agency in the world, and everything would be over. 

Their purpose would be over.

”What are you planning to do after this, bro?” Jack asked his best friend. “I honestly don’t know, the Bureau’s been my whole life…”

Lars knew exactly what he was going to do. Local forensic laboratories in Australia were offering positions to him after they had heard of his work in the Bureau, but he wasn’t interested. Once he settled his divorce papers, he was going to find a simpler job, start anew with his daughters.

His daughters deserved a peaceful life, one without chaos or violence. One without betrayal. He wanted to close this chapter of his life so bad.

”Daddy, you’re still not coming back to Australia with us?” April innocently asked as he brought the triplets to the airport. Their nanny followed suit.

”I’m really sorry girls, but I’ll just settle something in the Bureau, and then I’ll stay with you for good.”

“Can we see mommy?” June shyly asked.

”June, mommy had already left us!” May’s response had broken Lars’ heart. He didn’t want to hear his kids ever say that, but it was for the best. So that they could all move on.

”Girls, I know this is hard for all of us…” Lars knelt down to meet their gaze, trying to hold back tears. “…but you might never see your mom again. It’s for your own safety. I’m sorry.”

”But daddy, Elsa also hurt Anna and almost froze the entire kingdom, and yet they forgive each other because they love each other!” June pleaded, referencing Frozen. “Do you… do you not love mommy anymore?”

“Our flight number is being called, girls.” The nanny took them. “We should go.”

Lars stood up, processing June’s question. “Take care, girls.”

Did he not love Angela anymore? Maybe. He had already accepted that she would never be the woman she once was. Thinking about her hurt him too much. He almost committed suicide because of her betrayal one time. He didn’t want to even make their marriage work for the girls, for it’ll just hurt them in the long run.

Love wasn’t supposed to hurt, it was supposed to be steady. Safe.

However when he returned back to the Bureau’s New York headquarters, why did his heart beat fast when a random number called him?

”Hello, are you Lars Douglas?”

“Yes, who’s speaking?”

“Hi this is from the NYC Health and Hospitals, you are listed as the emergency contact of Angela Douglas. We are calling to inform you that she has suffered from an overdose on benzodiazepine…”

He wasn’t supposed to care about her anymore. They were over. SOMBRA was over.

But why did he immediately run to the hospital so fast once he got the call?

He wished that this was some kind of sick joke, that it was all some kind of nightmare, but it was not. The broken pieces that he had struggled to fix for the past few months had crumbled all over again once the doctors told him that Angela had fallen into a coma due to her attempt, and they didn’t know if she would ever wake up.

Oh god, the girls. How can he explain this to his daughters? He last told them that they might never see her again… 

A sob bubbled up his throat as he entered the hospital room and found Angela unconscious and hooked to various monitors. He hated how he still held her hand, crying, mourning for her and the woman she once was. He wanted to be mad, yell at her for trying to leave him, to leave them like this…

But he looked around the dreary place. He was all alone. He was the one listed as her emergency contact. Minutes turned into hours, hours turned into the morning… nobody else came for her. Her parents were dead. Her SOMBRA comrades either were in jail, in therapy, or dead. The Bureau hates her for trying to kill them and for denouncing Dupont. He was the only one that came for her, and even he had plans to leave her too.

She had no one left. 

Thinking about it, it would be a truly somber end to one’s existence. What she did was wrong and he hated her for it. But once upon a time, he believed that she had a good heart, and it was one of the reasons why he fell in love with her. However, fate had been cruel to her and took away her parents from her at such a young age, causing her to fall into SOMBRA’s clutches.

If Lars had to choose, he would rather have her live a life with her parents instead of her meeting him.  Maybe then the world wouldn’t have tainted her perspective so bitterly. 

Once he got back to the Bureau, he immediately threw away the divorce papers and canceled the meeting with his lawyer. The more he thought about it, the more that he felt his every step to Marina’s office become heavier.

He recalled the time she first got arrested and when he confronted her for answers. She told him her parents died when she was eight. Even if she had told him that she had chosen this, that she chose to be loyal to SOMBRA… He wanted to be naive. Deep inside, he felt that she secretly didn’t want this. She was a recruit, just like the other kids that suffered at the hands of SOMBRA. She was also a victim of the harsh cycle of violence they perpetuated.

He hated how this had to happen in order for him to realize all of this.

“You want me to petition the court to release all the SOMBRA recruits and instead subject them to a stay at a psychiatric hospital, including Angela?” Marina clarified to the scientist, baffled. “I can probably understand the others, but she almost killed Jonah, she almost killed us, Lars… do you really want that?”

“I don’t believe she wanted to do that either…” Lars sighed.

”Maybe you’re just feeling this way because she had attempted. It’s valid to feel this way, but it’s not your fault. That was her choice to make -“

“I know it’s not my fault! It’s SOMBRA’s fault!” He didn’t mean to snap at Marina. He didn’t know why he was still defending her, but she deserved to have someone in her corner for once. Like how she did for him all this time. “She told me SOMBRA took her in when she was eight… Did you know that?! We’ve seen how it affected children like Sanjay and Mei many times! Why would she be any different?!”

”But -“ Marina looked at Lars like he was crazy. “I-I’ll… think about it, okay?”

He left Marina’s office, dejected. He knew her betrayal was hard on everyone, but sometimes it felt like he was the only one that cared. It was like everyone accepted that Angela was a horrible person and they couldn’t change that. 

Soon, weeks turned into a month, and finally they had finished all of the documents and forensic evidence to take down SOMBRA. The Bureau was over. However the more that time passed by, the less likely was the chance for Angela to wake up again.

All of them were celebrating, but Lars wasn’t in the mood to. While a part of him held onto the hope that maybe she was still alive, he couldn’t stop thinking about their last exchange. The harsh words he had last imparted to her, how he had told her that he never wanted to see her ever again…

They had a vow. ‘Til death do us part. But why did their parting words to each other stung more than death itself?

”Hey.” Carmen approached him along with Marina, holding a champagne glass. “I heard about what happened to Angela… I’m sorry.”

“Carmen and I were just talking about it, and… you’re right.” Marina met his gaze. “All of the recruits deserve a second shot at life. Including Angela.”

That night, he and the two women visited her once again. Even if forgiveness was still hard, they all vowed to give her a second chance at life. She deserved to live again.

Maybe he was just holding on to the idea of her. But deep down, he wanted to try to make that idea possible, even for a little.

Even though he promised to the triplets that he was going to go back home, he had to stay in New York for a little while longer, helping Marina with the petition. He didn’t want to leave Angela alone. He stayed with Jack for a while, even though the latter was opposed to his decision, thinking that she got what she deserved. But to him, it was not what she deserved. 

He visited her everyday, constantly leaving white, yellow, and blue tulips in her hospital room. He knew how much she loved tulips. It represented hope, rebirth, and life. He wanted to give life to her dreary hospital room. He wanted to wish all the best for her.

Jack tried to get him to move on. He tried convincing Lars to try dating apps, that there was more to life outside Angela. There was a point where he almost gave in, that maybe after all this time there was a chance that she didn’t love him anymore. But Lars didn’t feel like falling in love again if it wasn’t with her. 

However, he couldn’t stay forever. He had a promise to the triplets. But before he went back to Australia, he had to do something. 

Ever since her attempt, Lars had hired a private investigator to investigate her life in SOMBRA. He wanted to do everything he could to make sure Angela could go back to her normal life eventually. But according to the investigator, nothing in her life was ever normal.

Being more used to hot climates, he wasn’t used to the chilly breeze that greeted him in South Korea. He held a piece of paper in his hand, traipsing along the steps of Busan Correctional Facility.’

After some time, he sat inside a booth. In front of him was a woman, who was supposedly his in-law. Angela’s ‘mother’ who was part of SOMBRA. He knew he had to confront them at some point in his life.

”Oh, so you’re that guy that Angela decided to marry…”. Her lips pursed into an annoyed frown. “See, I knew that she made the wrong choice. At least with us, her future was secure. She was supposed to join a multi-million pharmaceutical company under us once she graduated, but no, she chose you. Ever since you came into her life, she has become a failure.”

“But you’re also forgetting that while we were married, she had become a renowned scientist with a Nobel Prize. And she did it all with her own talent and effort. Without you.” He didn’t like how her own supposed ‘mother’ put her down like that.

”Oh, but she lost it anyway because she became sloppy with the Bureau, no? I’ve been telling her father that he should’ve just killed her the moment she said she was going to marry you. She was never going to survive.”

”No, fuck you!” Lars wasn’t one to curse, but he couldn’t take it anymore. “It was because of you she became like this! If you didn’t force her to do things she didn’t want to do, then maybe she wouldn’t be in a coma right now! You didn’t care about her, you just wanted her for your own selfish gain!”

He spat out a bunch of other expletives at the woman. The guards had to pull him out because of his outburst. He sat outside the steps and cried.

 She told him that she disobeyed SOMBRA one time, and that one time was to marry him.

She fought for him. She fought to keep their family safe, away from the clutches of SOMBRA. From getting him out of that chimney when they first met, to saving him from his near death experience by finding the cure to the plague… All this time, she was fighting for him.

This time, he wanted to be the one to fight for her. 

While he had to go back to Australia for the triplets, he was overcome with joy when Marina called to tell him that the petition had passed. Angela could finally heal.

Eventually, he told the triplets the whole story about their mother’s situation. He had only explained bits of it to them during video calls. Now that he was finally with them, he was able to sit them down and tell them everything. 

“Is mommy going to die?” April asked, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

”I don’t know, girls… it’s been a year, and I’ll be honest….”  He didn’t want to say it, but a part of him had to accept it so it won’t hurt much once it happened. “…her chances of waking up are slim.”

“I want to see her, daddy!” June cried. “I want to see mommy!”

“She already left us, June!” May was angry, but a part of her was hurt as well. “It’s… it’s been a long time…”

”Hey, girls, it’s alright to feel what you’re feeling right now. But no matter what happens to your mother, just know that she’s there, watching over all of us every step of the way, like a guardian angel.”

 He hugged his daughters as they all cried together. They had various shades of anger, hurt, and confusion written on their faces, but they still mourned.

Thankfully, things got better.

3 years later, Lars had gotten the news that Angela had finally woke up. He immediately requested for her transfer to a psychiatric hospital nearby in Australia so that he could visit her.

He also sought help, both for him and the triplets. The past few years had all taken a heavy toll on their mental health, and he wanted to make sure that they were all going to be okay. 

Once he had heard that Angela had finally been transferred, he wanted to see her, but the hospital didn’t allow him to. So as a coping mechanism, his therapist suggested for him to send letters for her to read. And so he did, even writing her various prose and random lyrics whenever he thought about her. He even put in random drawings and letters that the triplets made. Some were corny, some were profound, but he wanted to show her that she was loved.

A year later, he was finally allowed to visit her. Her therapist thought that this would be best for her healing. Their reunion was filled with a lot of tears, but deep in his heart he had forgiven her for everything. He accepted her for all that she was, the good and the bad.

“Hey.” He greeted her with a smile as she got discharged from the psychiatric hospital after 7 years, holding a bouquet of yellow tulips. “This is for you.”

“Y-you didn’t have to…” Angela blushed as she accepted the bouquet.

“No, I wanted to.” He pulled her closer as they walked over to their car. This time, he wasn’t going to let her go.

The first few minutes of the ride back home were silent, not until Angela spoke up. “Lars…”

”Hmm?”

”I truly am sorry for everything… and thank you for staying with me.” She looked away as she felt her eyes sting with tears.

Lars didn’t say anything until they had encountered a stoplight. His eyes may still be on the road, but his free hand crept to hers as he held it. “You don’t have to say sorry or thank you anymore. Just know that I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

Because as people change, love grows into a steady space, ready to withstand whatever the world throws at it. 

No matter what happens, love will always be steady. It will always be safe.

[the-littlest-raindrop]

BG3 Holiday Fluffle 2023 Drabble One- Twinkling Lights, featuring Dammon!

Presenting the first of my offerings for the fluffle. Link to AO3 above, or if you prefer, find the whole thing below! Suitable for all audiences <3

As the days grow shorter, and the winds grow cooler, you’ve found that your house feels… dark. There’s an almost empty feeling to it, me that not even a roaring fire seems to fix.

At least it’s not a hardship you have to live through alone; not with Dammon by your side.

That man could brighten up the most dingy of hovels with his smile, or break through a gloom with those beautiful eyes of his. Living with him, after all the hardships you’ve been through, is the happy ending you never thought you’d get. It’s everything, and it means that even your dark house feels like the grandest of homes.

However, that doesn’t mean you’re not going to do anything about the state of your home. That’s why you’ve been out today to buy up as many candles as you can, planning to fight off the gloom with them. You’ve bought your new light sources not a moment too soon, either; the sun had set long before your shopping trip concluded.

So, with your pack laden with waxen goodies, you let yourself into your shared abode, your eyes slow to adjust to the darkness. ‘Dammon?’ The chances of him being home when the fire hasn’t even been lit are slim, but that doesn’t stop you from hoping; after a busy day out in the cold, you long for his warm embrace.

A soft voice calls out to you, coming from your balcony. ‘Up here, love.’ One advantage of your fame- and the wealth you’d accrued through your journey- is that you’d been able to buy a house in one of the nicer parts of the city, which has served not only the purpose of getting Dammon better paying clients, but also granted you the closest thing to a garden anyone can hope for in the city; a balcony, large enough to set a small table and chair upon.

Yet as you make your way upstairs, and dump your belongings onto your bed, you notice that said furniture is now inside the house, rather than outside. No sooner have you processed this do you see your lover sitting alone on the balcony, a checkered blanket layed down upon the hard floor.

As you slide open the door, Dammon looks up at you, his teeth gleaming slightly in the dim light of evening. ‘There you are, love. I was worried about you. Come and sit with me a while. I made us dinner.’ He gestures to a wicker basket behind him as you take a seat next to him, looking above the balcony’s bannister and into the night sky. Even in the city, the stars still shine, like precious jewels sewn into the fabric of the night itself.

Looking down at your dinner, you can see Dammon has been busy. Sandwiches, cakes, mini pies… he’s really gone all out tonight. You aren’t quite sure why though, since there is no anniversary to be observed tonight, unless he’s decided that there’s an occasion worthy of celebration.

Dammon finishes laying out your food, only to produce a few candles from the bag, carefully placing them around your blanket before lighting them with a match. ‘Not that I don’t appreciate the surprise, but what gives? You’ve never done anything like this before.’ Not that he isn’t a romantic- far from it. You’ve just never come home to a sight like this before. Some days, you’re lucky if he finishes up at his forge in time for dinner.

The tips of Dammon’s ears grow darker, though you’re not sure if that’s from embarrassment or cold. ‘I just wanted to surprise you, that’s all. Besides, I think spending an evening with the woman I love is occasion enough. We just need the wine-‘ He looks behind him then, only to look back at you with a frown. ‘That I left in the kitchen. Shit…’ You notice he’s not in his work apron, a rare sight indeed. Still, you’d be lying if you said it was a bad surprise; you love the way his tunic clings to his well-honed muscles, a delightful benefit to him having such a demanding craft.

You wave off his concerns, picking up a pie. ‘We don’t need it. I’m starving, and these look delightful.’ Taking a bite of your food, you try not to wince, the taste not at all what you were expecting. For all of his talents, it seems your lover isn’t a particularly skilled baker…

Dammon doesn’t notice your discomfort, helping himself to a sandwich. ‘Even still, I wanted this evening to be perfect. Romantic. A quiet moment, just for the two of us. I know there have been precious few of those lately, and I’m sorry. I’m just trying my hardest to establish myself here, for both our sakes.’ He seems preoccupied with something, his eyes slightly unfocused as he shoves his food into his mouth.

Putting your pie down, you reach out to him, his hand still warm despite the cold air. ‘You’re doing amazing, my love, but don’t feel like you need to push yourself. I fell in love with you when all you had to your name were the clothes on your back and the hammer in your hand. You’re everything to me.’ You give him a reassuring squeeze, trying to let him know everything is okay.

Instead of looking at you, Dammon looks to the sky, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. ‘I’ve always loved how the sky looks this time of year. The darkness always makes the stars shine brighter. When Elturel fell, I feared I’d never see them again. Now, I get to share them with you.’ The candles around you flicker as the wind picks up, threatening to extinguish them.

You lean into Dammon, kissing his cheek. ‘I suppose it is the best time of year to really appreciate them. Maybe one day we could go to an astrologer, and find out what they mean?’ That could be a fun date idea, if he’s up for it. You’re certain there will be someone in Baldur’s Gate that could teach you both.

Dammon chuckles, shaking his head. ‘If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d like to come up with my own meanings. We could make the stars tell any story we wish, if you think about it.’ That’s… you’ve never really thought about it that way, but he’s right. Who’s to say that the constellations have to be followed. You should be free to connect the stars as you see fit.

Taking Dammon’s words to heart, you trace over a few of them, trying to make a heart shape. ‘I think I can see my love for you in them. What do you see?’ Knowing Dammon, he’ll probably say the day you met, or the time you were reunited, citing you as a flicker of light against the shadow curse.

Your lover doesn’t reach towards the sky, slipping his hand into his pocket instead. ‘I see the night you agreed to marry me, under the watchful gaze of the stars.’ Your eyes snap towards him just in time to see him pull a ring from his trousers, presenting it to you with a nervous smile on his face.

You don’t hesitate for a moment, wrapping your arms around your lover. ‘I accept, though it will be hard to see the stars through my tears of joy.’ Already you feel them welling in your eyes, threatening to spill over.

Dammon sighs in relief. ‘Then forget them for now, and just let me hold you.’ You’re happy to agree to that, all but crawling into his lap. The idea of spending the rest of your life with the man you love is enough to make your very soul sing with joy, your heart soaring as your mind is filled with one single certainty;

Your future with Dammon will shine brighter than any star ever could.

[maria021015]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CHAPTER 54!

“Zay, can we talk? About what happened before?” Stiles asked her in a hushed voice as they walked out of the school towards the Jeep.

Zaida took in a shaky breath, her heart caving in on itself within her chest at the mere mention of what had happened. The image of her best friend and the boy she cared so much for, so close together, was burned behind her eyelids. Every time she blinked it was there, reminding her of her stupidity. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

“About what?” She feigned ignorance, walking faster so he couldn’t see the barely concealed pain on her face.

“Zaida, you…come on, you know what.” He hurried after her, stumbling over his words. All that was running through his head now was, how was he going to fix this?

“No actually, I have no clue what you’re talking about.” She insisted, clearing her throat when her voice came out far more hoarse than she would have liked.

She couldn’t understand why he would flirt with her when his heart still belonged to the redhead. Had she been imagining it? Had she been delusional this whole time? Had he done it on purpose to mess with her? But no, Stiles wasn’t like that. He’d given up on Lydia and had settled for her instead - for the girl who was always there. For the easy option. Then when Lydia had made her move, Zaida had just fallen away - not even a real competitor, just collateral damage. It was the only explanation that made sense. Anger crackled and burned within her, casting a dark soot over all the memories she cherished - all of the times she spent with Lydia and Stiles. They were corrupted now, only serving as a reminder of what might have been if she was enough.

But Zaida had never been enough. She wasn’t smart or athletic enough. Not enough to make a real difference in anything. Not like Xander, who was a powerhouse in both areas and had fought off Deucalion on his own to escape that night at the mall when she had failed. She wasn’t cautious enough. Not for Xander, who had always wanted her to be more careful. To be more selective. More cynical. To be a hunter as he was. To be like Allison. She wasn’t enough of anything for Stiles. Stiles wanted Lydia, and Zaida was nothing like Lydia. She was just there. Was that all she was? A placeholder for him?

“Please, Zaida, at least just let me explain-” Stiles begged her, desperate to clear the air.

“If you keep talking,” Zaida quickly interjected, her jaw clenching. She was spiralling and she knew it, but she couldn't afford to - they had more important matters to deal with. “I’m going to make an extra thick icicle with a really sharp tip, and I’m going to shove it, right up your-”

“Okay, okay! I’m shutting up!” He interrupted before she could finish her vulgar description, his face twisting at the thought of such a method of torture.

Zaida climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep, and when Stiles joined her in the driver’s seat his shoulders were sagging and his energy was flat. The emotions that echoed through his door in her were only a further admission of his guilt and Zaida didn’t want to feel it anymore. She thrust her blocks firmly into place, shutting him out completely as she turned her knees towards the car door, fixing her gaze out the window.

She wasn’t enough. Not enough. Never enough. She never would be.

“It has to be on a telluric current, or maybe even at the axis of two, or where they all intersect. We just know it's where Derek took Paige to die.” Stiles explained to the others as they peered at the marked map of Beacon Hills that was spread over one of the metal tables at the clinic.

“My dad and Gerard were there, once. But Gerard said it was years ago and he couldn't remember where it was...And, my dad obviously isn't here to tell us now.” Allison swallowed, her eyes bloodshot the only evidence that she had been crying.

“Yeah, mine either.” Stiles added morosely, finding it hard to focus when Zaida was on the other side of the room, her arms crossed over her chest as she refused to even look in his direction. From the looks exchanged between their friends, they all noticed the tension.

“Lydia’s heading back from the loft now. We thought Peter and Derek - or at least one of them - would remember how to get there but apparently not. Talia Hale took the memory from them somehow.” Zaida added, her hazel eyes simultaneously dull and simmering with quiet rage. The redhead had messaged her the information and Zaida hadn’t bothered replying with anything other than ‘meet at the clinic’.

“Then how do we find this place?” Issac chimed in from over Stiles’ shoulder.

“There might be another way…” Deaton looked apprehensive. “But it's dangerous. We're gonna need Scott.”

“Well Scott hasn’t been answering his messages.” Stiles revealed bitterly.

“The alphas are hunting your sister,” Zaida turned to the veterinarian. “Morrell was missing from her office, but it didn’t look like there’d been a struggle so I don’t think she was taken. I think she ran. Where would she go?”

“If she was running? She’d want to be in the one place where she’d have the advantage. The woods.” Deaton stated, retaining his serene demeanour.

“Then that’s where we’ll find Scott. Once we’re close enough I can track him down,” Zaida tapped on the side of her head, indicating she’d be able to sense him.

“There he is,” Zaida pointed out the approaching figure as sticks snapped beneath her boots.

“What are you guys doing here?” Scott questioned them, emerging from the brush. “I could hear you from a mile away!”

“That was kind of the point,” Zaida tilted her head at him. “We need your help to find the Nemeton.”

“How’d you guys find out?” His brows met together in curiosity.

“Lydia’s drawings.” Stiles answered. “You?”

“Morrell. None of the other Alphas know where it is, either.” Scott shared with a grimace.

“So, if this works, are you gonna tell them?” Stiles eyed his best friend warily. He didn't like the trust Scott seemed to be placing in them, especially considering Deucalion was after Zaida. In his mind, that was clearly a conflict of interest.

“I can't stop Jennifer without them.” Scott reasoned with a sigh, indirectly answering Stiles’ question.

“How about we concentrate on finding your parents first?” Deaton interjected before any of them could get carried away.

“What's the plan?” The werewolf asked.

“Essentially, you, Allison, and Stiles need to be surrogate sacrifices for your parents.” As the words left Deaton’s mouth Zaida’s head snapped towards him in alarm. He hadn’t mentioned that.

“We die for them?” Scott clarified with a stunned expression.

“But he can bring us back!” Stiles exclaimed, then turned to Deaton to double check. “...You can bring us back, right?”

“You remember the part where I said it was dangerous?” The man pursed his lips. “If it goes right, the three of you will be dead for a few seconds...But, there's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous ritual for more reasons than one. You'll be giving power back to the Nemeton, a place that hasn't had power for a long time. This kind of power is like a magnet - it attracts the supernatural, the kind of things that a family like the Argents can fill a bestiary with. It will draw them here, like a beacon.”

“Doesn't sound worse than anything we've already seen…” Stiles shrugged, brushing it off.

“You'd be surprised at what you have yet to see.” Deaton warned, and Zaida’s stomach churned uncomfortably. She didn’t have a good feeling about this at all.

“Is that it?” Scott questioned, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“No. It'll also have an effect on the three of you. You won't be able to see it, but you'll feel it...every day, for the rest of your lives. It'll be a kind of...darkness around your heart, and permanent, like a scar.”

“...Like a tattoo.” Scott mumbled, rubbing the bands inked into his arm.

“At this point, we’re out of options. It’s either we do this, or our parents die.” Stiles reminded them all of what was at stake.

“I’m in,” The werewolf nodded decidedly.

“You’ll each need something that belonged to your parent - something important to them, but also something to connect you to them. Something that holds a lot of sentimental value.” Deaton advised them.

“We’ll meet back at the clinic when you guys are done.” Zaida instructed and returned the way they had come without another word. Deaton followed after her, leaving both of the boys behind to gather the required items.

“What’s wrong with her? Did something happen?” Scott asked Stiles once the girl was out of earshot, picking up on her chemosignals.

“Yeah, she walked in on me and Lydia and now she’s pissed and she’s refusing to talk about it.” Stiles let out a heavy sigh, frustrated with himself.

“You and Lydia?!” Scott repeated, his brown eyes widening.

“Nothing happened!” Stiles exclaimed insistently, his arms flailing about expressively. “Well, something…something almost happened, and that ‘almost something’ was what Zaida saw.”

“What do you mean something almost happened?” The beta was outraged. “I thought you were done with Lydia! Don’t you like Zaida now?”

“I am done with Lydia. If anything, whatever almost happened today just confirmed that I have zero feelings for her whatsoever. She grabbed my face and came really close like she was going to kiss me,” Stiles suddenly reached out and gripped Scott’s face, mimicking the redhead’s earlier actions. The werewolf looked mildly uncomfortable and very confused. “And at that point, I just felt nothing, and I knew that even if she wanted me, I don’t want her anymore. I just want Zaida, more than I’ve wanted anything.”

“Really? Even more than you used to want Lydia?” Scott questioned, still only inches away from his best friend’s face.

“Yes! Even more than the erasure of the absolute heresy that is the Star Wars sequels!” Stiles insisted, grip tightening on the werewolf’s face.

“Why are we still doing this?” Scott asked, referring to their close proximity.

“I don’t know. I honestly thought you’d push me away a long time ago.” The boy admitted and Scott slapped his hands away, stepping backwards.

“Bro, you’ve gotta fix this.” Scott urged his best friend, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I know! It would be a lot easier if she’d actually talk to me about it.” He huffed. “And right after things were finally starting to get somewhere too!”

“What do you mean?” The werewolf questioned, frowning once more on confusion.

“Last night, at the hospital, we kind of had a moment…” Stiles revealed, cheeks warming at the memory of it.

“A moment?” Scott repeated, a slow and amused smile spreading over his face.

“A moment! You know, like a vulnerable conversation - a moment! It was a moment!” Stiles snapped erratically, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, we were talking about the deep stuff, you know? And then- well, then I started flirting with her a bit. Just to test the waters, you know? And then…well, then she started flirting back and it was awesome.”

“And then you ruined it.” Scott nodded as he followed along.

“Yes, Scott, thank you for the reminder.” Stiles narrowed his eyes bitterly.

“She probably thought that the something that almost happened, did happen.” The werewolf continued.

“Yes, I am aware.” The boy scowled, not really needing to hear what he already knew.

“She probably thought that you were messing with her.” Scott added and at that Stiles froze.

“What? Where- Where’d you get that from?” He spluttered. Was that really what she thought? That he'd just been playing with her feelings?

“It’s what I would have assumed, if I were in her shoes.” Scott shrugged.

“But- that’s not true at all!” Stiles protested irritably. Also, since when did he go to Scott for girl advice? And since when was Scott’s girl advice actually good?

“But Zaida doesn’t know that!” The beta pointed out. Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but he really couldn’t draw together a solid argument against that. He ended up sealing his lips with a loud huff of annoyance.

“I’ll fix it, okay? But how are you going to fix this mess you’ve gotten yourself into? Joining the alpha pack? Seriously? How could you think that was a good idea?” Stiles shifted topics, putting his best friend on blast for abandoning them the night before. “You know, this pack is like the mafia - once you join, the only way you’re leaving is in a body bag.”

“I’ve got a plan, Stiles. You’ve just gotta trust me.” Scott assured him, promise behind his dark eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what Zaida said,” He muttered under his breath. Yet again, all things led him back to her.

“All right. What did you bring?” Deaton asked as Allison was the last of the group to arrive.

They all gathered around three giant metal tubs filled almost to the brim with ice, water and various Celtic herbs and flowers. Zaida, Isaac and Lydia had spent their time helping Deaton move all of the tables out of the way and prepare everything necessary for the ritual. They had done so in awkward and thick silence.

“Um, I got my dad's badge.” Stiles turned the warped metal over in his hand, the light glinting of the damaged surface. “Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand, so I tried hammering it out a little bit. Still doesn't look right.”

“Well, it doesn't have to look good if it has meaning.” Deaton smiled faintly. The Sheriff had also been his friend.

“Is that an actual silver bullet?” Isaac asked as he caught sight of the small, shiny object between Allison’s gingers, stamped with the Argent family crest.

“My dad made it. It's kind of a ceremonial thing.” She explained its significance. “When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a Hunter, we forge a silver bullet as a testament to the Code.”

“Scott?” Deaton prompted the werewolf to show them his item.

“My dad got my mom this watch when she first got hired at the hospital. She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked.” He gazed down at the watch and not for the first time since meeting Scott’s dad, Zaida wondered what the history was there.

“Okay. The three of you will get in. Each of us will hold you under until you're essentially...well, dead.” Deaton prepared them for what was about to happen. “But, it's not just someone to hold you under - it needs to be someone who can pull you back, someone with a strong connection to you. A kind of emotional tether.”

Despite the situation, Zaida found her eyes drawn to Stiles as she recalled similar circumstances they had experienced together. Months ago, he had held her under until she had almost died. He had been the one to pull her back. He must have been remembering it too because their eyes locked, sending a jolt through both of them before Zaida quickly turned away.

As Zaida crossed the room, headed for Allison, Deaton stopped her by holding out his open hand. “Zaida…You go with Stiles.” He instructed and she froze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It should be Lydia - you said it needs to be a strong connection. An emotional tether.” Zaida muttered bitterly, lowering her eyes.

“Which is exactly why it needs to be you.” Deaton insisted sternly. “Lydia will go with Allison.”

This time Zaida wasn’t the only one who noticed the longing in Isaac’s eyes as he looked towards Allison. And what was even stranger, was Allison glanced at him as well. Scott tilted his head, eyebrows twitching downwards slightly in confusion, but he brushed it off rather quickly.

Zaida took in a deep breath as she moved over to stand behind Stiles as he peeled off his shoes and socks, forcing herself to push everything else aside and focus on the matter at hand. The stakes were high - this was literally life or death. Stiles' own words jumped to her mind - “I’m about to drown my best friend. I don’t know how I could ever be ready for that” . It was only now that she stood in his shoes that she understood what he’d meant. Climbing into the tub, Stiles clutched his father’s mangled badge in his hand. The boy gritted his teeth against the freezing temperature, but pushed through it, lowering himself to sit inside, his legs outstretched. Allison and Scott did the same on either side, gasping at the cold.

“By the way, if I don't make it back and you do, you should probably know something…” Stiles’ voice trembled along with his body as he turned to his best friend before he went under. “...Your dad's in town.”

Scott’s eyes widened for a moment, but he didn’t have time to ponder the information as Deaton moved into position behind him, setting a hand on each of his shoulders. Lydia and Zaida followed suit but the brunette hesitated for a moment, her hands hovering over the fabric of Stiles’ shirt before she forced herself to grip him. The boy’s chest heaved, taking in desperate and deep breaths as the panic set in. It struck Zaida through that chestnut door in her mind, almost blowing the lock off, but she barricaded it shut. She’d be no use as his tether if she somehow went under with him. Even once her blocks were firmly in place, she still felt anxiousness churning within her stomach, though this time it was indeed her own. She might never see him alive again. She might not be able to pull him out.

“It’ll work,” Stiles whispered, assuring her - or himself - as if he was able to read the thoughts in her mind. Would it work? It had only worked last time because of what Stiles meant to her. He’d made it clear that she didn’t matter to him in the same way, despite his pretty words that morning.

“On the count of three,” Deaton spoke serenely, and Zaida felt Stiles shudder beneath her grasp. “One, two…three.”

On the final word Zaida held her breath as if it was her that was going under, pushing downwards and watching Stiles squeeze his eyes shut and he slid beneath the icy surface with no resistance. For a few moments, he remained still and peaceful, bubbles of air escaping his lips and slowly rising to the surface. Then he began to thrash against her hold - they all did - fighting to come up for air. Zaida’s guts twisted with guilt as she held him down, her hand almost slipping off his shoulder as he twisted to get away. She knew he didn’t actually want to come up. She knew it was his survival instinct kicking in. However as it became easier to hold Stiles down - as his strength waned and he finally went completely motionless - Zaida still felt as though she had killed him. She didn’t realise she was crying until a single tear dripped from her chin, falling into the water below and causing the surface to ripple slightly.

As the seconds stretched into minutes it soon became clear that something had gone wrong. The three would not be waking up as quickly as Deaton had planned. Zaida couldn’t watch them like that, floating lifelessly below the water. Instead she wandered into another back room and busied herself with unpacking her friends' clothes from the bags they had brought, folding them neatly in a pile for if - no, for when - they would emerge from the freezing waters. At least then they would have something warm to change into. As she fiddled with the corners of a fluffy towel Deaton had provided, Lydia entered the back room. Zaida didn’t have to turn around to know it was her from the sound of her heels clacking against the tiled ground.

“Zay, I know you don’t want to talk about it,” The redhead began and Zaida’s jaw clenched.

“You’re right,” She spat through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But we need to.” Lydia insisted, moving to stand right behind her. “Please, just hear me out. Let me fix this. I need to fix this.”

“Lydia, right now I’m just trying really hard to hold it together long enough to deal with everything else going on.” She let out a stressed sigh.

“You don’t even have to speak, just listen!” Lydia pleaded with her, reaching out to touch her arm. As soon as her fingertips made contact, Zaida flinched away. “Zay, please. I am so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just panicked!”

“You panicked so you grabbed his face and kissed him?” Zaida snorted, whipping around to face the girl with an expression that was a mix between outraged and sceptical. “Right, because that makes so much sense!”

“What? No, I didn’t kiss him!” Lydia shook her head, green eyes growing wide. Then she winced. “I was about to, but-”

“Oh, and that’s so much better?!” Zaida burst out in dry and humourless laughter and she whirled to face the girl.

“No, wait-” Lydia backtracked, desperate to explain herself.

“You know what, no. Just stop. I don’t understand why you would do this to me. I have gone above and beyond for this friendship. I stood aside and I gave you every opportunity to be with Stiles, because I didn’t want to get in the way of something that might make you happy - someone that might be good for you for a change!” The brunette exclaimed, and once she’d open the gates, everything came flooding out. “The thing is, if you had told me you wanted him I would have stepped back for you in a heartbeat. But you didn’t tell me anything, you went behind my back and I had to walk in on it and react like a complete and utter idiot! And it’s not even like you were oblivious - I told you how I feel about him! You know what he means to me, and you told me you didn’t see him in that way. You told me he wasn’t your type-”

“And he’s not my type! I don’t see him as anything more than a friend - if that!” Lydia interrupted in protest, her guilt eating away at her from the inside out. Zaida had never spoken to her like this, but that only meant the girl had never been this hurt. And Lydia had been the one to cause it.

“Then why would you do it?!” Zaida didn’t even register the fact that she was yelling now, allowing her frustrations to get the best of her.

“It wasn’t like that, Zay. He was having a panic attack and nothing I was trying was calming him down - in fact, I think I was just making it worse. I didn’t know what else to do, and I’d read somewhere that holding your breath can stop a panic attack. The only way I could think of to get him to hold his breath, was…well to do that.” The redhead couldn’t even bring herself to say it, she felt so awful. “But I just couldn’t go through with it, and I didn’t need to because just grabbing him was enough for him to freeze in shock long enough to stop panicking.”

Zaida’s inferno of anger lowered to a simmer as she registered what the redhead was telling her. Lydia hadn’t kissed Stiles, and the only reason why she had been going to do so was in a strange, last-ditch attempt to stop his panic attack. The realisation that she had completely blown up over something that now didn’t seem nearly as bad was embarrassing, to say the least. Her best friend hadn’t gone behind her back to seize an opportunity to kiss the boy she liked after all.

“I’m not going to lie to you, I’m still angry. There are so many other ways - better ways - to stop a panic attack than that.” Zaida took in a deep breath, trying to calm her temper. She knew she could be irrational, and she had a knack for jumping to conclusions and blowing her lid occasionally. She didn't want to turn this into something bigger than what it was. Lydia hadn't meant anything malicious by her actions.

“You two have this ability to understand exactly what the other needs and you calm each other down like it's easy. You only have to look at each other, or start counting and you ground one another. I’ve seen you do it! And I can’t do that. When I tell you nothing was working, I mean nothing was working. I know it was stupid and awful, and I hate myself for it, but I genuinely didn’t know what else to do.” The redhead promised. “I am so beyond sorry, Zay.”

“Look, I…I know that it’s not an easy thing to deal with - especially being someone who hasn’t had any experience with it whatsoever.” Zaida sucked in another stabilising breath, trying desperately to be the bigger person and look at the situation from an objective perspective, pushing her jealousy away. “Panic attacks suck, and the only reason why Stiles and I can calm each other down is because we both know what it’s like to have them. We have our strategies that we know work for us. I can see how you would have arrived at the place you did, and under different circumstances - like, had I known what was actually going on when I walked in - I wouldn’t have freaked out the way I did.”

“Your reaction was entirely valid,” Lydia reached out to squeeze her arm in support, and this time Zaida didn’t flinch away. “I should never have even considered it. The last thing that I wanted was to be that girl. The girl I was before - the girl that made out with Allison’s boyfriend to get back at her and Jackson. The girl that hurt her friends and didn’t care. I thought I was past that.”

“I know you’re not that girl anymore, Lyds.” Zaida let out a heavy sigh, releasing some of the lingering tension along with it. “It’s just, for the longest time all Stiles could see was you, and I found a way to be okay with that because I didn’t want to resent you for something that wasn’t even remotely your fault. But things started to change and then it was like he was seeing me for the first time, and it made me hope that maybe I had a chance. Walking in and seeing you two like that just shattered it all, and it felt like shit. I still feel like shit.”

“I never wanted to make you feel that way,” The redhead shook her head, disappointed with herself. “You are the last person I ever want to feel like that. You are my best friend, and I love you more than anyone in the world. I hate that I was the one to do that to you and if I could take it back, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“But you can’t take it back.” Zaida swallowed thickly. “And now I know that Stiles and I are never going to happen.”

“What? Why not?! Zaida, haven’t you noticed the way he’s been looking at you? How he’s been making any excuse to touch you and compliment you? How protective he is over you? How he goes absolutely insane whenever Isaac is around you? Stiles likes you!” Lydia exclaimed, not understanding how the girl couldn’t see it when it was so obvious.

“Maybe he does do all of those things, but it doesn’t matter, because you’ve always been the one for him Lydia. Today has shown me that the moment he might get a chance with you, he would take it. Even if one day he does choose me, I will always be his second choice. And I'm not going to allow myself to be somebody’s back up.” Zaida shook her head definitively. “I want to mean more than that.”

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it happening again only solidified the fact that it wouldn’t be the last if Zaida let it. Stiles always went back to Lydia. If once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, and thrice was a pattern…that planted Stiles firmly past the pattern category. The boy would realise the redhead wasn’t interested and he would mope and Zaida would pick up the pieces, and after a while of him not showing any signs of still liking Lydia, she’d think that he’d moved on. Only for Lydia to show him the smallest bit of attention, sending him crawling back to her and leaving Zaida in the dust. Well she wasn’t okay with that anymore. Zaida wanted to matter to someone. She wanted dedication and loyalty and she wanted to be wanted. She wasn’t about to allow herself to settle for less than what she desired.

[katyspersonal]

Who is your favorite Elden Ring character?

Oh man.. This is a very hard question to answer because I love a LOT of characters for their own reasons, and it is really hard to pick one. You might as well send me this ask again every weak and there's a chance the answer would be different every time, too, because my thought process and personality are not stable either! (don't actually send it every week xD)

In general, I can learn to love every character after peering very deep within their being and discovering their potential (or nurturing it), but some characters still stand out and have been stable enough as favourites! That'd be Melina, Ranni, Goldmask, Sellen, Nepheli, Alberich, Yura, Eleonora, Ensha, Malenia (+Millicent), Godwyn and Vyke! I am sorta waiting on Miquella/Trina for DLC because I just don't know what to expect considering Martin's involvement!

I think Melina is the closest to what I could have as favourite character! My favs are more or less equally loved, but she left an emotional impact on me like no other character had before and that alone made her stand out already! Heck, I tag posts about her as 'wife' from time to time! You see..,

The full archive of EPIC AND VERY QUESTIONABLY SANE CONVERSATION is in this chain ( x ), but basically I've completely missed the point of Shabriri gaslighting us. The fact he was talking about burning Melina completely flew over my head, mostly because I didn't check right dialogues. The point about how there is no reason to fix the broken world and existence itself is a curse, however.....? (God I still fucking LOVE the "it is not my fault you jump into ‘hurr hurr but mass destruction bad’ instead of actually thinking" gem fdjhfhs). So, when my friends kept arguing with me I could not actually hear them!

And yet, everything changed when it was just Melina being sad with her voice even trembling a little bit if I remember correctly, convincing us to not inherit FF before the door to it, when everything clicked for me and I snapped out of it. There was something in her expressing her feelings on importance of life in spite of despair, pain, oppression and constant resistance that felt bigger and more important than any thoughtful conclusions on nature of life and world itself.

It is already very admirable that she makes a conscious choice to sacrifice herself for this world. It is not blindly following the purpose she was given, but she comprehends what she is doing and why, having a chance to live her own life now that Marika is absent but still choosing not to, so others could. There is no guarantee that Tarnished (or anyone) WILL make the future better, no way to tell what happens after she annihilates herself. She is motivated by hope for this world, and her trust. Hope is almost alien emotion for me, so I am impressed by the character that embodies it so much. And of course with the way she can kick ass, and how she asserts herself that her sacrifice is not OUR choice, I thought she was pretty badass.

All that is already hard qualities to compete with as they are, and they got strengthened by, without exaggeration, a bit of personal experience with the character! And then it gets MORE personal because, ironically, such an important character also dies in a unique way in Soulsborne context. Death is rarely a thing in Soulsborne worlds because of souls, planes of reality and timespace shenanigans, but Melina already had no body and thus burnt her soul. This is a complete annihilation without any loophole and backtrack, yet I don't even have the heart to meddle with this even in my imagination because this is what she decided.

[mokkemusic]

✨Yugi Sensei headcanons 🥼📝🌌🔭 ✨ (I wrote this a while ago but I need to put this here for archive purposes AND because everything I said basically came true! But I’ll get to that later date posted: 5/7/24)

Ok so I cannot contain myself any longer I’ve tried believe me I’ve tried but I am actually COMBUSTING so here they are:

(I wanted any pic here so Kamome building worked)

1) Aside from the obvious that all the girls had a crush on their very dapper science teacher (well maybe not all but at least a few at the very least they thought he was cute. Just them thinking that.) Aside from that! Him as a teacher-the words coming out of my mouth now still don’t feel real🥺- BUT

2)He would be the understanding teacher that everyone can go to for help. He shares his passion for the stars and he makes a big show of exaggerated disappointment when his students are like “Well Sensei, space is just boring.” “Boring? Well will just have to fix that.”

He’d be that teacher that got all the permissions for a nightly class excursion to the school buildings rooftop (idk how it works at Kamome and what paperwork or forms would have to be approved but putting that aside)and sets up the telescope and helps everyone set up theirs (The school has a lot of funding ok let’s just make believe)and watches as everyone’s face lights up in awe as they take turns with their group partner watching the Perseids meteor shower on a day there’s a new moon and the stars are exceptionally bright!

He’d be the teacher that collects all the equipment after with a smug look on his face and who would not be above teasing the so called “bored students of the bunch” in their next class ever so slightly.

His passion that’s full of “life” would be contagious for that specific topic and it would spread to his students. It would. Even if it’s only for the time they are in his class and they can talk about how their science teacher was really overly enthusiastic and when they graduated he would be memorable.

3)He’d be the teacher who…if he sees things are getting out of hand between students during his class hours would nip it in the butt right away. He’s got a no bullying tolerance policy.He’d either be firm“Excuse, me but I’m teaching here.” or light hearted “Fighting in my lesson?Maybe I’m not giving you enough to keep you occupied depending on what it calls for. At least during class time.But he would always be keeping an eye on students giving them a nudge to see him after class or having his door open for anyone who needed to come to him with a problem. And if the student was really lucky it would be On a day that he brought with him an extra donut or two🍩 because they all knew their Sensei had a donut addiction and he wasn’t opposed to sharing if he had a few more. If it was a really serious situation though he would give up his own donut. One of the kids comes to him crying cause they failed a test or got their heart broken. One of the kids is having troubles at home and lost the light behind their eyes. And he’d listen giving up his own donut he saved knowing he would be staying at the school until the late night grading papers cause he’s a workaholic… until Tsuchigomori has to physically come to his class and drag him out seeing him asleep on a stack of papers and smack him on the head and tell him to go home cause he shouldn’t be living at the school. (But at least he’s living.)

Ok I think I’m done. Cause I’m crying again! I didn’t mean for it to turn into this. But yea he would be like this 🥺.🥼 🔭 🌌 📝

[writingtohealmytrauma]

5/4/24

she left me 2 months ago and the pain is still so real and unbearable. 8 years of our life gone, she is now a stranger we dont talk, i want to talk so bad but she wants to move on and asked us not to message i want to talk to her everyday but i need to respect her decision's she still hasnt blocked me and i cant bring myself to block her number, not that it would do any good as i know her number off by heart, i managed to get the strength to archive our conversations so im not constantly seeing her name and our life everytime i message someone, i had been messaging her out of desperation and longing for connection with her and i can see by the read reciepts that she is seeing my message but choosing not to respond and it just hurts so much that this is clearly what she really wants and she is trying her hardest to get over me and us.

she tells me "We pushed it as far as we could" in reality she pushed it as far as she wanted. she tells me that she wants to have a family and she doesnt see a future with us after 8 years so she needs to leave me and find someone else to have a family with. she's 26 and wants to have kids before 30? so she cant waste any more time with us. i spent my life serving her, but it wasnt enough. i gave her everything. i literally made her breakfast and dinner every day for 3 years to prove my love to her, i flew her business class around the world i showed her a life she never dreamed off. i was there every day when she got home waiting to hear about her day, i ALWAYS made and had time for her always. she was my purpose i lived to serve her. all i ever wanted was to marry her, everyone use to have a go at me saying "why dont you marry her?" "hurry up and put a ring on her finger" like i was the problem? she was the one that would never commit. all i wanted was a family and life with her. I know her past trauma's have played a huge part in all of this, she come from a very broken family and has carried alot of trauma her whole life that she refused to deal with and that leaked into our relationship in so many ways. i truly believe if she had of dealt with her passed issues we would stil be here. she was not the only one to blame i also brought issues to the table but i have worked and turned myself out inside as a person to try and fix/overcome these and i feel i really did. she had an avoidance schema which was a real issue she would always run and shut off from us whenever things were hard, my mind is constantly telling me she was overwhelmed and her avoidance schema kicked in and thats why she ended it as there was no good reason to end it, weeks before she ended it she was telling me that she was finallly ready to get engaged after 8 years?? im so confused? I worry that she has realised this was an overreaction to a minor problem but her pride is stopping her from saying hey this is blown out of proportion can we try and fix this?? i would come running! i'd lay my life down to fix this, what ever it took whatever love she needed it is hers. I worry by the time she comes to this conclusion i will have moved on, not because i wanted to but because the pain is to great and i dont want to take my own life from grief. does one ever truly move on? will i still think about her in years too come? there is that weird sense of hope that we will get back together but i cant hold onto that. when we first started dating she saw a psychic (I dont believe in that stuff) but he told her that she was going to meet her partner and they would be together for life like penguins and that she would have twins with them. over the years i truly believed that and i made that a promise to myself that she was my penguin and that we would be together forever and have twins and i held onto that promise for so long, that promise got me through the hardest time in our relationship and now i feel its been broken it makes me sick to think that im not her penguin and some other man might be? she will have twins and a family with another man? makes me want to curl up and die.

It hurts so much that she wants to move on she couldnt do it anymore 8 years, meant nothing i know she wasnt in it for a long time i just kept pushing and pushing and exhuasting myself trying to fix it, i knew in the back of my mind that it was over a long time ago and that we wouldnt work in the future. she was my best friend though and the only family ive ever had all i wanted was to serve her and love her but there was always this twisted gut feeling in my stomach everytime i thought about our future, not from fear just uncertainty. we broke up once before for a short period of time and she bought someone back to our house within a couple days of us breaking up my mind reels at the thoughts of who she is with now who she is seeing.

**DREAM

I had a dream last night that we met up and i asked had she been with anyone else i asked her and i wanted her to say yes so i could hate her and move forwards in my dream she told me after a week of us separating that she had been sleeping with someone else she began to describe the sexual encounter to me with such joy saying it was hot and sweaty and that they didn't use protection and i remember feeling such a sense of a rage and sadness and sickness all at once in my dream, the though of her with another man made my sick. **DREAM

i woke up and i felt relieved as my mind was still telling me that was a real conversation and i hated her and could let her go and after properly waking up and realising it was a dream i cant shake the feeling the thoughts of that dream and what it meant to me. now i feel like i need to know if she is sleeping with other people so i can move on? WHY IS MY MIND ATTACKING ME LIKE THIS? i want to know that she is with other people so i can hate her so i can detach as i feel thats the only way i can move forward but at the same time i dont want to know either. i have no interest in other women right now, i dont think i ever will. i gave her every part of my heart and soul. ive only ever slept with 2 people in my life and have no interest in sleeping around being with other people, the thought makes me feel sick.

everytime i see anything slightly sexual it reminds me of her it makes me feel sick to my guts as to who she is with. i was her first and she was my second and to be intimate almost every day with the same person for 8 years is so special. i think its a mix of jealousy and fear fear because i know what other men are like and what they are capable and that she has not been exposed to how feral men can be and jealousy because what if she finds someone better than me? what if they pleasure her better or love her more. what if she is more attracted to them then me? she said to me that she still loves me and thats not that she doesnt want me she just doesnt think we have a future?? which is so insanely confusing cause how can you love and want someone but not be willing to commit to marriage and life together and risk going out into the world and hoping you find the connect you had with someone else.

she was my bestfriend, all i wanted was to be around her and in her presence and i think that makes this all so much harder for me. i feel like im one of those people that is always surrounded by people but feel so alone always. she took away the loneliness made me feel complete and normal maybe it was bad that i needed her to make me feel that way, maybe i should learn to feel that way before getting into another relationship. thats what everyone tells you to do. but does anyone actually truly do that? does anyone ever wait untill they are complete and feel whole before getting into another relationsip? i feel like if you were complete and happy being alone you would never get into a relationship at all so i feel like that kind of advice is a lie? what else would compel you to be in a relationship if you have learnt to be happy alone, i understand women having a biological clock and im led to beleive that some women have overwhelming maternal instincts and the need to have children but as a some what succesful male, if i learn to be happy aloen and enjoy my own company? why would i want to get into a relationship what would be the driving force behind that? so i think that type of thinking is a lie and fanciful.

i feel scared to go back home, i know i need to though. i left the state i live in to go stay with my cousins for a wgile to try and clear my head i dont know if it has helped our made things worse? im genuinely not sure.

im so scared of running into her, im so scared of running into her with another man. i dont know how to deal with these feelings of fear and jealousy. i just love her so much and my heart screams for her day in an day out.

even writing this now i feel sick at the thought the she is talking to somoene else and flirting with them and doing sexual things with them.

i think the hardest thing for me to grasp is her being sexually intimate with someone else. that seems to be the trigger for me to spiral and feel sick.

my psycologist told me that those are grief thoughts and to label them grief thoughts and that they will pass but they just make me sicker and sicker everytime i think of them.

im not eating, im not sleeping all i do is train. i feel so insecure and so scared i feel like ive aged so much in our relationship and that im ugly and un lovable so im just destroying my body to stay fit and become stronger than i am. i worry its becoming a mental ilnness almost a body dysphoria i hate myseld and everything about myself.

she was younger than me buy a couple of years and i know she is going to date someone younger than me and they will be fitter and stronger than me and it just hurts so much to think that.

i get angry cause i feel like she used me and robbed me of my life and my best years and that she never had any intention of seeing this through. she just used me as a vessel to get her setup in a career and financially.

[otherworldlyhope]

like memories of dying days

My piece for Febuwhump Day 7: Suffering in Silence

Aka, 2 times Scar suffers in silence, and 1 time he doesn't

Words: 3,426 CW: injury, life series deaths/injuries

The first night Scar wakes up back in Hermitcraft, he’s in pain. A broken, raw cry of hurt leaves his mouth as he tries to pull himself into a sitting position. He ends up staying down, the searing pain cutting across his whole body leaving him unable to even turn his head, let alone sit.

All he can think about is his final moments in the desert. His friend, the only person he felt he could trust, had beaten him to a bloody pulp in the warm sands. It’s disorienting to think about really. And sure, maybe he purposely missed a few punches, and maybe he let himself trip. But there had been very little hesitation from the avian when killing him. 

He can feel every punch, every kick, and every mark lining his body as he lays pitifully on his bed. Not only can he feel them, he can remember them vividly. The way Grian had broken his ribs, how a well placed kick had sent him slamming against Pizza’s grave (that might have hurt the worst, for multiple reasons), how the avian’s fingers fit so perfectly around his neck. Not to hold him, and pull him closer, but instead to squeeze the life out of him.

Slowly he cracks his eyes open, and he can recognize the room he’s in, and he’s almost disappointed. His room smells of dark oak and roses. It’s a scent he had curated specifically to comfort him when we woke from nightmares. 

It doesn’t comfort him now, but probably because what he’s woken up from is worse than a nightmare in a lot of ways. 

Strangely enough, the only comforting thing in the room is the sand falling from his clothes onto his covers. He used to hate the sand. It would find its way into every single crevice of his clothes and skin. Near the end of it all he almost enjoyed the sand, especially when they finally left the desert to fight the final battle. The sand had been his only reminder of his home. 

The home that he died at. The home where Pizza died, it was only fitting really. 

With ragged and uneven breaths, Scar swings his legs over the edge of the bed, pulling himself into a semblance of a sitting position. Every movement brings intense pain that has him holding back tears. 

He’s barely up when there’s a pounding on his door. Out of pure instinct he pulls his sword from his inventory and points it at the entrance to his bedroom. His hands are shaking with the weight despite the months of wielding it before. He hates it.

“Scar?” He knows that voice, at least he should know it. In another life, well maybe this life. That’s right, he’s on Hermitcraft, this is one of his friends. “Scar, are you in there buddy?”

It takes effort to clear his throat. Even now it feels like there are hands pressing against his airway, keeping him from taking a single breath. 

“Yeah I-” His voice sounds so impossibly weak that it breaks his heart. He has to put so much more effort into putting that chipper attitude back into his tone. Even when he does, it sounds wrong. “I’m in my room Mumbo, come on in!”

Mumbo seems out of breath when he shows up at Scar’s door. His usually impeccable hair is an absolute mess, the lines of his suit wrinkled and off. The man looks at the sword still clutched in Scar’s hand, a flash of nervousness crossing his features. Scar slowly puts it on the bed near him, keeping it within reach just in case. 

You never know when someone could come in and kill you. Better safe than sorry and all that. 

“You look awful Mumbo.” Scar laughs, and it doesn’t sound quite right. He needs to fix that soon. “You slept at all lately?”

Mumbo runs a hand over his face, stopping to pull a stray hair from his mustache down. There’s a disbelief in his eyes that almost cracks Scar up. Almost.

“Where have you been?” You look like you’re about to pass out. What’s up with the sword?” Mumbo asks question after question that Scar can’t even imagine answering. 

Instead he discreetly pulls his hands to his ribs and holds them. The pain lessens some at that, and he’s able to manage his facial expressions much better. Scar gives half answers here and there while trying not to actively yell out in pain. It works quite well actually.

When Grian joins the server, Mumbo leaves him alone. He likes it better that way. All desire to even sit is dashed from his mind. Instead he lays back down, pulling his covers tightly over him. It cradles his broken body, and it’s the only comfort he feels at that moment. And when he falls asleep the nightmares that greet him are almost welcome.

In the weeks that follow he doesn’t tell anyone about that final fight, and neither does Grian. All people know is that Grian won, and Scar didn’t. They don't comment about the fading bruises lining his skin, accompanying his scars.

They don't say anything about how the flowery spread of purple across his throat looks suspiciously like handprints. How they’re just small enough to only belong to a few people, and all the rest were long dead at that point.

Scar doesn’t say a single word about third life, or about the pain he feels every moment of every day. They don't need to know. It’s fine.

~ ~ ~ 

Coming to in Hermitcraft after last life is no less jarring than the first time. This time he wakes up to the moving machinery of the Swaggon, the smell of oil motor oil overwhelming his senses for a few blissful seconds. Then the pain hits, and it hits. 

At least this time it’s pinpointed to a singular spot. The arrow through his heart isn’t nearly as painful as the first time around. It still hurts though, a sharp cutting pain as opposed to the searing, continual pain before. 

When he finally is able to pull his shirt up and see the damage, it looks smaller than he remembered the arrowhead being. There’s a blood red mark that makes Scar light headed every time he comes close to touching it. 

Unlike third life, nobody comes to him when he gets back. It’s almost ironic, he was alone in last life, and he’s now alone on Hermitcraft. It had almost crushed him back then, the isolation. He had tried, desperately, to make friends, but it never worked out for him. In fact it seemed to only make him more enemies in the end.

The worst part of it all was the avian that he considered one of his greatest friends. They had just gotten back to being normal on Hermitcraft when suddenly they were put in another death game.

Grian had avoided him immediately, only talking to him to con him out of a precious life. It made sense, but it hurt in a way that Scar couldn’t describe. Like a hole in his already broken heart. They barely crossed paths during the game, and when they did Grian was unbelievably cruel. 

It wasn’t like Scar was expecting to be allies again or anything, but the cold disdain that Grian showed him was almost too much to bear. He had eventually gotten used to it like he had once gotten used to the sand in his hair. Didn’t mean he viewed it fondly though.

Once again he stays quiet about the pain he went through in last life. When people ask about his death, he simply explains that Ren got him. Even when the pain from the arrow fades and life settles, there's an echo in his heart of what happened. 

Maybe one day he’ll be able to say something to someone, but it’s not any time soon.

~ ~ ~ 

Scar has never been so excited and also terrified in his life. 

He’s excited because he’s always wanted this in a way. Having Grian bound to him like this is a perfect chance to finally understand him. He once thought he knew Grian like the back of his hand. In a world full of sunshine and sand Grian had been his best friend, his partner. The only person he trusted in a place full of paranoia and traitors.

They had been everything. And then nothing. 

The second their hearts were synced, Scar didn’t care much about finding his soulmate. Nobody wanted to be around him in last life, so they didn’t deserve to be around him now. He was sure he wouldn’t be the only one that ended up alone. He had a plan though, the Jellies. They would be his soulmate, they were all he needed.

He knew his soulmate was Grian the second he saw him flinch when Scar accidentally twisted his ankle. In that very moment he decided he wouldn’t even acknowledge it. Grian and the others could think he was stupid all they wanted, he really didn’t care. It’s not like they thought he was the smartest anyways. He didn’t mind it though, it made them much more susceptible to whatever tricks he wanted to pull.

Like always, Grian found a way to ruin Scar’s plans. At one point he used to love it, now he can only force a smile and pretend to ignore the way Grian rolls his eyes at the fakeness of it. It’s getting easier now, to fake being happy around others. Unfortunately, with his heart being perfectly timed with Grian’s, the avian can hear the way it stumbles at every lie. 

Grian himself is still as hard to read as before. Maybe even harder. Scar has seen him with BigB, has noticed the way Grian brushes Scar’s concerns away. His heart is always steady, and Scar can’t discern a single thing from the avian. 

And that’s exactly why he’s terrified. He can’t let Grian know him the way he used to. It just feels wrong.

It’s almost like those old days, but at the same time, it’s completely different. Scar had once been an open book to Grian, now he’s attempting to keep himself as closed off as possible. It’s come with its challenges, but it shouldn’t be for much longer. They’re on red now, and soon the game will be over. 

They’ll go back to Hermitcraft and pretend like nothing’s wrong all over again. They’ll base by each other, play pranks, and refuse to acknowledge the toll these death games have on them just like usual. 

It’s nights like these that Scar wishes he could be in the desert all over again. The velvet keep is cold, colder than the sands ever were. Grian is tucked against the wall, pressed as far away from Scar as he can be on the shared bed. Scar had protested it, but Grian insisted on it for safety. 

It doesn’t make Scar feel any safer.

It’s barely been half an hour since they’ve laid down for the night and Grian is already out. It’s the only time Scar can see a semblance of peace on the avian’s face. His mouth is slightly open, his heart steadily beating in his chest. 

Once he’s sure that Grian is fully asleep, he rises from the bed. The avian barely twitches in his sleep, but Scar can feel how his heart stays at the same pace. He slowly tucks the blanket over Grian’s shoulders and stares down at the small figure barely taking up half of the bed.

He almost wants to climb back into that bed and pull Grian to his chest like he did those cold nights in the desert. Grian would usually complain and whine a bit, but Scar could always tell he appreciated it. After third life he struggled to sleep alone for weeks. Last life knocked that problem right out for him though.

The thought gets him to tear his eyes away from the bed and forces him to step away. Now that Grian is asleep he can finally treat his burns without the avian fussing over him. He’s been pretending to be alright all day, and he knows that Grian saw right through it. Still, he didn’t do anything, and Scar didn’t say a word.

The whole thing had been stupid in the first place. He should have seen the trap coming from a mile away, but he was still a little disoriented from Ren’s attack the night before. At least that’s what he tells himself.

He can still hear Joel’s piercing laughter as there was a shock of white hot pain, and then nothing. Death was never fun in these games, and it was all too familiar to his very first death ever. That had been completely different though, and Scar doesn’t enjoy settling on those thoughts.

Instead he goes to the chests and finds himself all the necessary supplies. After a quick hike up the stairs he finds himself on the rooftop of the keep. His legs dangle over the side as he prepares himself for the absolute agony he’s about to endure. 

Even unbuttoning his shirt has him cringing. The burned skin sticks to the fabric and rips away with every pull of the shirt. Still he has to get it off, and so he pulls it quickly like a bandaid. A raw scream of agony leaves him as he hunches over himself, black spots crowding his vision. 

Void, this is going to hurt so much worse than he was expecting. 

Before he can even think about cleaning the burns, there’s steps on the stairs. Scar summons his sword, unsure who the intruder is. Even though he’s in intense pain, he’s going to fight tooth and nail for his last remaining life.

The second he sees the edge of feathers from around the stairwell the sword disappears. He shamefully turns his head down, making sure his tone is just right.

“Sorry if I woke you up, Grian.” He forces through a tight jaw. “You can go back to sleep, I’m just gonna stay up here for a bit.”

There’s a silence that hikes his shoulders up even more. He wants to believe that Grian’s listened and gone back downstairs, but it's unlikely. He’ll probably lecture Scar for waking him up with pain and Scar will have to pretend like the shadow of pain that Grian is feeling is exactly what’s going on with him.

It’s fine.

“You always do this, you know.” Grian finally says, and Scar waits for the parental tone.

It doesn’t come. Instead Grian settles behind him, holding his hand out for the supplies Scar has clutched in sweaty palms. It takes a moment, but Scar reluctantly passes them to him. He doesn’t respond. There’s honestly no words for him to say.

Grian just continues without a response.

“You don't tell anyone how much it hurts. I always thought that you just had really high pain tolerance, or weren’t that injured, but seeing you today…” Grian’s hands are light on his skin as he pours cold water across the burns. “It made me realize that you are way too good at quietly suffering.”

There’s a sharp burst of pain on his left shoulder that he cringes at, but not a single sound leaves him, as if to back up Grian’s point. 

“I don't try.” Is the only defense Scar can muster. 

“How can you not- okay whatever. Face me real quick-” Scar slowly turns towards Grian and the look of sympathy in his eyes almost floors Scar. He continues with his task as he speaks, not making eye contact. “I always wondered how you got back to normalcy after third life. I mean I was bedridden for weeks after my fall, and that wasn’t even as bad as-”

He stops his rambling as he realizes just where it will lead. Neither of them have mentioned that last fight, and they never will. As Grian moves onto the bandaging he gets quieter, his face drawn in concentration. 

“It hurt a lot actually.” Scar clears his throat, looking off in the distance so he doesn’ have to see how Grian reacts. “Both times. But I just couldn’t let anyone know what happened, it just felt like too much to put on other people’s shoulders.”

“You spoon.” Grian chides, and there’s the parental tone. “We all love you Scar, and we want to know. Mumbo was worried sick for weeks after last life when you wouldn’t leave your house. He thought you hated all of us.”

Scar can’t think of a single thing to say, so he simply shrugs. The immediate hurt makes him regret the decision, and he bites down hard on his cheek to keep himself from reacting. The skin there is completely scarred up by now, destroyed from years of continual use.

“Void at least cry or something Scar.” Grian snaps and it takes Scar back. “I can feel it, and even though it’s lessened it freaking hurts. You’re allowed to be in pain, I’m not going to judge you or anything.”

Once again, Scar just stares at the stars, keeping his mouth shut. 

When the bandaging is done, Grian holds his hand out. Scar stares at it for a moment before grabbing it, the avian’s hand warm on his. He’s hauled to his feet and led down the stairs, Grian’s fingers intertwined with his. 

They settle back onto the bed, but this time Grian doesn’t go to the wall. Instead he stays rather close to Scar, basically in his arms if he were to reach out. He doesn’t. 

Even when his eyes close, his heart stays rapidly fluttering. His eyelids twitch every few seconds and Scar can see words playing on his lips. What is he thinking about?

“I’m sorry.”

Scar blinks once, then twice as he stares at now open, dark eyes. He’s never once heard Grian apologize, except when he was actively killing him all that time ago. It rings in his ears for just a moment.

“What are you sorry about?” He finally asks, his mouth open in surprise.

“I’m sorry for killing you.”

“We already established that the creeper kill wasn’t your-”

“Not that Scar.” Grian groans, an exasperated sigh leaving him. He pulls himself up on the pillow, eye to eye with Scar. “I meant all the other times. The taken lives, everything.”

His breath catches and Scar tilts his head curiously. 

“And I’m sorry for killing you to win.” He says quietly, and the words settle in Scar’s chest heavily. Like a weight on his heart, actively pulling him down. “You deserve so much better than what I’ve given you.”

“I don't think that-” Scar starts.

“I don't care what you think.” Grian says quickly, his voice rising for just a moment. “You deserved better, and you still do. So tell me what I’ve done to hurt you and I’ll apologize for it all, because I can't bear to watch you just hold it all in.”

Scar’s mouth opens and closes multiple times before he settles on a response. 

“I’ve already forgiven you for all of it, Grian.” Scar says, a sad smile on his lips. “It hurt far too much to stay angry, so I just let it all go.”

“I don't deserve that Scar.”

“No you don't.” Scar finally reaches out, an invitation. “But you get it anyways.”

Tears spring in the avian’s eyes as he stares at Scar’s outreached hands. After a few seconds of deliberation he accepts it, pulling himself into Scar’s arms. He’s impossibly warm on Scar’s bandaged skin, and he can feel when the avian sighs.

“Do you feel any better?” He mumbles and Scar has to strain his ears just to hear it.

“Not really.” Scar finally admits, and it feels kind of good to say. “It hurts a lot, but it’s nice not being alone for once.”

“Well next time you get hurt you better come to me.” Grian hums softly. “No more of this quiet pain stuff or I will hunt you down and make you share your feelings.”

Scar laughs quietly, the movement burning across his chest. Finally he lets out a hiss of pain, and Grian frowns. 

“Fine Grian.” Scar reluctantly says. “I’ll go to you then.”

“Good.”

For the first time in a long time when Scar goes to bed in pain, there’s someone else who knows, and someone else who cares. It’s foreign, but it feels strangely good.

[uncle-dusknoir]

SHIT I forgot I should do one of those pinned posts explaining who I am. i mean probably i kinda like the mystery but eh whatever.

im Basil. unovan. she/her. Hex Maniac "curse fanatic" by circumstance.

blog title source - personal curse tracker

I've got Toothpaste, he's a shiny Obstagoon and my baby boy; Thyme, that Dusknoir, my uncle; Jupetta, a Banette, Thyme's Pokemon before he turned into a Dusknoir.

There's also Skorna, the bone Runerigus. She's just a pest.

Deckard, a white-furred Zorua (NOT HISUIAN) i found in my backyard. He's baby

Mint, a Sneasel I got as a gift from a friend of mine 💜 she's very bity

I've also got a new Poryphone named Porypory. it speaks in pink, is very polite.

oh and the 19 shuppet from the halloween party

... And Bluebell! An Alolan Meowth I found in the dumpster in Alola. She's a million years old and the sweetest cat in the world

image of thyme here

image of skorna here

image of toothpaste here (also me)

image of jupetta (mostly toothpaste tho)

image of deckard (and also me)

image of mint (and my arm)

this weird breloom someone let loose outside my house??

> ooc notes under the cut

9/15/23 updated her 'main' image to be more in line with how i draw her

subscribed blogs only dash (I'm really just putting this here for myself but if y'all need it idm)

my other pokeirl blogs are @crossbones-n-skull and @nifuunbakufuun!

join the hex maniac discord server! more info (kinda) in linked tumblr post. if the link is dead lmk ill fix it (discord added a thirty day link cap)

basil's cousin, sage, is over at @sage-the-exorcist (run by my friend, statik!) she currently has him blocked (its not working)

additional facts for my own reference:

skorna speaks in orange.

thyme speaks in green.

porypory speaks in pink.

jupetta, toothpaste, and deckard don't speak through the blog. (however, if given voice through an event, their text will be colored as seen.)

two voice claims that i'm debating (but i take suggestions)

family bibliography (books)

loose timeline

view the blog in chronological order here! (bear in mind there is quite a lot. lol)

Basil is 25 (as of nov 1st 2023!). I'm (the mod) 20.

she lives in the woods around icirrus city, in an old house that she just... took. it was abandoned so what about it its hers now

thyme the dusknoir is her uncle. he did not die naturally.

jupetta the banette was her uncle's, but technically is hers now. she inexplicably knows Teleport.

skorna the runerigus isn't kept to a Pokeball, as she and Basil are literally bound to each other through possession bullshit.

back when thyme was alive, they did a LOT of travelling. she's primarily been to galar and kalos, but have stopped in every region at least once. only place they haven't been to is paldea, and that's because thyme isn't allowed in because he tried to go in the crater

thyme had a TV show.

mun is aromantic, but Basil is bisexual with a female lean

post detailing Basil and Skorna's connection

old ref image, for archival purposes:

if anyone ever wants to plot anything, feel free to dm me! I'm always down, could be fun. I just don't do "in-person" RP on Tumblr- this is strictly a social media site for the character. update- i will rarely do off-rotumblr RP, but it is not going to be frequent. all threads will be completely under readmores

note that, while Basil most likely won't be super active in high-stakes plotlines, i might have her react to some, especially if i find them interesting. she's no main character.

if you want your character to know basil out-of-rotumblr, feel free to DM me here on tumblr! my PMs, unless specified are an ooc-only zone and im always happy to chat about rp.

(however, please keep in mind that i'm really not one for small talk that doesn't have to do with rp; i have too many bad experiences with people befriending me in my PMs and then just offloading trauma. i don't shut the fuck up in discord servers where other people are though lmao.)

on that note, i do have a discord! if you wanna invite me to any servers feel free to pm me about that too!

[bloodgutsanengelskiss]

This is a part 3 / chapter 3 !

Ao3 account (full 4 chapters on there and I update first) :

Link to chapter 1 :

Link to chapter 2:

Scarlet Secrets

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Fandom: Criminal minds

Relationships: Spencer Reid / Elle greenaway , Spencer Reid & Elle greenaway

Tags/ warnings : drugs | drug use | drug addictions ( not in this Chapter but main plot point ) | (drinking addiction in a later chapter too) | hurt Spencer Reid | hurt Elle greenaway | they both need hugs | sometimes they get them ,sometimes they don't | unsub team Elle and spencer | major Charecter death | graphic depictions of violence

Synopsis: Spencer Reid struggles with his addiction and isolation after being kidnapped and Elle is the only one looking out for him ( oh and she has a secret, a really big one )

A/N: This is my first ever uploaded multiple-chapter work, and English isn't my first language, so I'm extremely open to criticism. I hope you enjoy it!!

Chapter 3 : silence

-

A/N : hope you like the point of view switch (just for a chapter !) , also I'm so sad because I'm getting like zero engagement especially on ao3 , anyways , enjoy

--

Elle's POV:

Elle stood in the dimly lit alley, the cold night air almost blew her wig away and she fixed it. She looked down at the lifeless body at her feet, the man's face was contorted in agony, his blood pooling beneath him like a puddle of red wine.

She carefully lifted the body, the weight of it feeling heavier than ever before. Despite the chill in the air, sweat beaded on her forehead as she maneuvered the corpse into the nearby dumpster. The metallic clang of the lid closing echoed in the stillness of the night, sealing away the dead man.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Elle's mind wandered to her next steps. She needed to clean up, to erase the traces of evidence.

Elle made her way back to her fake social services truck and made her way to her apartment. The weight of her actions hung heavy on her like the weight of the dead man, but she pushed aside any feelings of guilt or remorse. This was her mission, her purpose. She couldn't afford to falter now, especially not when the FBI, apparently the BAU, her own former team was investigating her case. She found it ironically funny and almost like a challenge.

Back in the privacy of her own space, Elle took off her bloodstained clothes in the sink, and cleaned her bat and knife, putting the knife in a rack in the kitchen. Then went back to the sink to wash the clothes with her baking soda paste. The familiar ritualistic routine brought her a sense of calm.

As she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her reflection stared back at her, and she looked down to avoid her own eyes. She washed away the grime and blood, watching the water swirl down the drain until it was transparent. It was a cleansing ritual, a way to rid herself of the sins of her and her victims.

Once cleaned up, Elle sank onto her couch, exhausted. And she reached for the remote, turning the TV on. She scrolled through the channels, the news reports of her actions both unsettling and oddly validating. Finding nothing interesting she turned off the TV with a sigh.

Her thoughts drifted to Spencer. It had been weeks since she had heard from him, and a sense of unease settled in the pit of her stomach. She hated that he stayed in the FBI, she believed he had so much potential outside working for the government, but She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with him and she was just worried.

She picked up her phone from the coffee table and scrolled through her contacts, pausing when she found Spencer, saved in her phone as "dumbass genius", an oxymoron, as Reid had told her. She pressed the call button but was immediately sent to voice mail. Frustrated, Elle decided to go check on Spencer.

She lazily got dressed, cursing him under her breath, then got into her car and drove to his apartment. Using the spare key he had given her long ago, she let herself into his apartment. The familiar chaos of books and papers greeted her but the apartment was so messy she half expected someone else to be living there.

Elle quickly figured out that Spencer wasn't home and she made herself at home, settling on his couch after pushing his stuff to the side. She resisted the urge to tidy up the place, knowing that he would be upset if she moved anything out of place, and decided to busy herself by watching TV and eating some leftovers he had in the fridge.

After warming up a box of cold pizza in the microwave, she grabbed a plate and plopped herself onto the couch. As she leaned over to get the remote from the coffee table, her hands accidentally sent something tumbling to the floor. The room filled with the sharp shatter of glass, Echoing in her ears.

She glanced down at the shattered mess on the floor and confusion knit her brows as she puzzled over what had fallen. She crouched down and carefully picked up the broken pieces, her fingers tracing the outline of the glass vial. Slowly, realization dawned on her, her heart skipping a beat as she comprehended the implications of what she held in her hands.

Oh my God, Spencer .

-

Next chapter:

[faithfromanewperspective]

you are my unfinished business: prologue

so i did a thing! i'm still figuring out a03 so i hope the link works:

or read the prologue here! below the cut. just wanted to thank @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone for the initial inspo behind it, as well as convos with @thevagabondexpress and @daisymydaisycarstairs and @luciehercndale for helping me realise what i could contribute by actually posting the fic i half wrote while procrastinating my thesis that ended up being longer than my actual thesis

more notes on why i wrote it etc on the a03 site, but hope it can be something someone more than just me finds healing so here goes:

p r o l o g u e

Christopher Lightwood was a scientist, and he observed things. When he was a child he had observed his uncle Henry in his laboratory mixing things together, and was first struck by conviction: I am meant to be doing that. He loved the feeling of invention, the feeling of possibility and wonder. He loved how he could lose himself in a method, in the tedious steps that together would make up a new way of putting the universe together and yield results no one had ever seen before. Of course, often the thing no one had seen before was just different coloured explosions. He supposed someone else might grow impatient with the lack of results, but Kit had never felt that. He found that doing nothing new was the most frustrating experience of all, and after all, he had started his scientific career by knocking down a wall in the Fairchilds’ house. And that was just the first of what some might consider failures. He had a lot of experience with patience.

Yet the summer had brought something new to him: an invention that had not only worked, but saved countless lives, including his own. He wasn’t one to relish praise like Matthew, but the satisfaction of having made a difference warmed his soul. It quietened his worries when he wondered if he should spend more time in the training room like the other Shadowhunters. He had a purpose, and a useful one at that. And being recognised was just the cherry on top.

Christopher thought suddenly of the event that had prompted his need to use his interest in science to help others. It was a fuzzy memory, but he had recalled it so many times over the years that he was sure he remembered the important parts. It was when he first realised the world could be a cruel place where pain wasn’t so easily fixed. It was when he had learned his cousin Jesse had died. He remembered the twisting of his stomach at the sound of the pain in his father and his uncle Gideon’s voices; he remembered his father’s sobs when he spoke of how his aunt Tatiana wouldn’t let them do anything to comfort her, but instead withdrawn, cold, bitter and vengeful. Christopher hadn’t known what that meant at the time, having only known kindness. But that had been years ago. In the last four months especially he’d applied his observational mind to people—since James had been in love and he hadn’t known it—and now he fancied himself almost as good at reading people as his sister Anna.

And he saw a trace of that bitterness in James.

It was ironic, really, how in the end his inventions had helped Jesse. Christopher was still reeling from the shock he felt when the green-eyed boy sitting next to Lucie in the Institute had introduced himself as Jesse Blackthorn. And when Lucie had pulled him aside after the meeting with all their aunts and uncles, and confessed she’d lied to him about making a beauty potion and all the ingredients she’d asked for had been for Jesse. And whatever she’d done had been successful: she’d brought him back to life. Or he apparently hadn’t been properly dead to begin with? Christopher longed to investigate how that could be possible.

But now his attention was on James. He’d come straight to Curzon Street when Lucie’s letter had arrived at the Fairchilds’ London house where he and Thomas had been further working on his fire messaging project. James had just received the second semi-successful fire message ever and Christopher longed to gush about that with his friend. When he was passionate about something he could talk about it through a fire or a demon attack—he’d done both on multiple occasions—but the words died on his tongue at the look on James’ face answering the door. Instead, he’d simply taken note of the doily he'd destroyed and stumbled over his words and now they were upstairs in the armchairs in James and Cordelia’s study. He felt the familiar ache in his chest he associated with conflict between the brothers closest to his heart. And he’d messed up already: James thought he and Thomas had done this simply for information, like he and Math were some sort of science project they needed to collect data for. Christopher couldn’t have James think of their friendship like that.

“It’s not like that—” Angel, no matter how much attention he’d paid it since the summer, talking about feelings was much more delicate a tool than any he had worked with—“we’re the Merry Thieves, one for all, and all for one—”

“I think that’s the Three Musketeers,” James interrupted, and was Christopher imagining it or did his shoulders relax ever so slightly? Maybe it was wishful thinking, book references usually cheered James up, but now…

“There were four musketeers, if you count D’Artagnan.” He didn’t even know why James looked so awful, but failing to think about a metaphor long enough to figure out its relevance was a bad sign. Christopher vaguely heard James say his name, exasperated, as he took a breath to calm his thoughts and approach the issue more directly.

“We’ve never had a fight,” he began. Saying it out loud felt like announcing some very important science was no longer at their disposal: the age of blissful childhood was over, and now they had to join the real world where happiness was sparse and time or money spent on anything had to be accounted for. Still, he forced himself to keep going. “I mean, none of us with each other, at least nothing serious. If you’ve had a falling-out with Math—” he knew he was diving into unknown territory now, a project that couldn’t be solved by science and magic, but who would he be if he didn’t try? He felt his voice lower to a whisper, “we want to help repair it. We need each other, especially now.”

“Oh, Kit.” James shut his eyes and shifted in his seat, before suddenly relaxing again as if he’d thought of getting up and decided against it. “Math and I are not at each other’s throats. It’s not like that. Nor are either of us angry with Cordelia, or she with us. Things between us are just—” he put his face in his hands for a moment then opened his eyes again— “complicated.”

“We need Cordelia too,” Christopher said, and then they were talking about Belial and Lilith again like they were ordinary Shadowhunters trying to protect their city and the ones they loved. James still looked haunted when he talked about Jesse—Christopher still found it hard to believe his enigmatic cousin was alive, he’d met him, all thanks to Lucie—but he managed to get up to write some messages. Even if he didn’t share Christopher’s enthusiasm for the opportunity to utilise his fire messaging project, their banter felt almost normal. Still, Christopher had arrived with something to do, and he was going to properly attempt that conversation. The way he hadn’t had a chance to ask Thomas about the letter he’d written to Alastair when the two of them had come to see him and explain it yesterday morning, but the way he thought he had gotten across to Grace that she hadn’t been forgotten when he went to see her immediately after. He wanted to show that kind of friendship to James, too.

“Why are you writing to Lucie and Jesse?” James asked. Christopher stopped writing mid-sentence and stared at him. Had he done something wrong? “I’m staying at the Institute,” James clarified. “I have to head over before sunset, I’m just here to get my things.”

“Oh, I can help with that,” Christopher said. He quickly sent the unfinished letter to the Institute as a fire message (after all, none of them had stayed complete when they arrived, so why should they need to start complete?) before James could complain about him setting fires in his house, and started on a letter to Cordelia and Alastair. James stared at him but turned back to his writing once the flames were gone. Christopher decided it wouldn’t do any harm to let the rest of the messages be taken by runners instead.

“All done,” he said to James, who took the pile of letters and went to find some coins. Then, remembering his previous offer, he added, “What do you need for the Institute? Socks? Books? Spectacles?”

“I’ll do—” James broke off, then ran his free hand through his hair as he turned around to look at Kit. “You’re right, Kit. You know me. And right now I can’t even find any—I’ll have to ask Effie—” he sighed and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Kit. I’m sorry. I’ve been so rude and you’ve been so kind, coming over and offering to help.”

Kit was already scanning the room for James’ favourites, he swept them into a pile on the table next to his reading glasses and their discarded ink and notepaper. James was still rummaging through the drawers, for money apparently, Christopher reaching into his pocket and added a shilling to the pile.

“James, it’s okay. I’ve got it all here.” He held up the coin and tried desperately to think of what his mother would say. “I know you’d appreciate it, that’s what friends are for. And you weren’t rude, not really, well if you were it just means—” James was staring at him now, not even bothering to close the drawer he was looking in. “I just wanted to know if you’re okay. And I can see that you’re not, and I wish you would let us help, but we can’t unless you’d tell me why.” There. He’d said it, and he thought he hadn’t done too badly. Christopher smiled a little to himself: a success was still a success, no matter how dire the circumstances.

“I’ve done something awful,” said James. “I’ve hurt Cordelia—why couldn’t I just tell her I loved her as soon as I knew? And I’ve failed Matthew and hurt him too in my negligence. He’s suffered so much—I had no idea just how bad it was until now—and I now have a chance to make it up to him. But the prospect of doing that all alone, without Daisy—”

“You won’t ever be alone, James, you have Tom and I and Anna and Lucie and Daisy does care about you as a friend at the very least. Shall I carry this downstairs?”

James nodded blankly and Christopher noted the hunch in his shoulders as he turned to exit the room. He shouted some things to Effie and thanked her for taking care of the house before turning to Kit.

“Thank you. It is easy to forget sometimes. I am lucky, I suppose. But Daisy, I don’t know if I could ever go back to seeing her as a friend only, or if I ever did, Kit, I don’t know how to assume how all-consuming it is and you don’t have to understand it, I know you’ve never been in love but I hope when you are that it isn’t nearly so complicated—Kit, have you been in love?”

Christopher thought of the Curies, a couple in love he’d longed to one day live up to, which made him think about his purpose and the science that he did. It really made his soul feel complete, but James wasn’t talking about being in love with the life he lived, but someone. He thought suddenly of Grace reading his notes and wondered—but wasn’t Grace in love with James, and him her? People could change, he supposed, but hadn’t James said he never saw Cordelia as a friend or had Christopher put his words together wrong, like he did sometimes?

“You’re not in love with Grace then?”

“No, by the Angel, not Grace, I can’t believe—” He broke off again and Kit noticed the panic in his voice. He shuffled his pile of James’ belongings into one hand and reached out awkwardly to touch his friend’s shoulder. “It’s okay, we’ll work it out, I know you can do what you need to do and I know that I believe in you every step of the way, it might take several attempts but things work out alright eventually.” He thought that was something Henry would say to him in context of laboratory experiments but it was all the same wasn’t it?

As if James’ arms, which had been frozen at his sides, were suddenly released from a spell, he reached up to hug Christopher. “You and Tom always know what to do. You’ve been keeping Math and I in line long before we knew we needed it. You’ve always believed in us far too much.”

Christopher would take these words to heart when he saw Thomas with Alastair in the library. Life and love were complex, but they would work it out. And when Grace confessed to him and Cordelia, she said it was because of his simple belief in her to be able to put things right she had been able to do it. Maybe it was possible to combine more than just science and magic. Maybe he could expand his purpose in life: after all, what good was the work he did to help others without friendship to be able to reach the people he wanted to help to start with, and find people he could make discoveries with to be an even better scientist?

[silenthillmutual]

i keep looking at my own fic ideas from like a couple years ago that i have outlines for and going "wow, i really don't want to write these!" so here's a comprehensive list of fanfics i still have on my desktop which i have started but made litle progress on:

masterpiece theatre - an akira/mob psycho 100 crossover. the premise of this one was that tetsuo managed to create an alternate universe at the end of the film/manga, which was the mp100 universe. he's just kind of there trying to live a normal life while navigating the trauma from his past life. naturally this does not work out well and he winds up both meeting people from the akira 'verse and people from the mp100 'verse. i think i had in mind that it would end roughly around the first season of mp100. anyway this was roughly inspired by my musings about mp100 reminding me of a sort of inverse of akira's storyline that i can no longer articulate because it has been years since i read mp100 all the way through.

cause - this was just going to be a complete rewrite of rebel without a cause where i fixed what i saw as a pacing issue with the film and also gave more context to the characters' lives because i have a love/hate relationship with the original

it's not my party, but i'll still cry if i want to - a really short fic that was taking characters from rebel without a cause and plopping them into a modern 'verse just for the sake of having jim infodump about the 50s while sulking because he thinks judy & plato are doing something together and generally having rsd

where worlds collide and days are dark - all i got is that it's for mgs and i still have a hold of this document despite it just being snippets of fic i wrote like years ago.

statement of daniil dankovsky // statement of artemy burakh - magnus archives crossovers for pathologic, the first one being daniil's statement about the world being alive (based on pathologic classic) and the second one being artemy's statement about seeing daniil die, only to be "replaced" by another actor the following day while everyone else acts like nothing ever happened.

when you finally get involved, face to face - danganronpa ishimondo fic that was a project to see if i could focus long enough to write 100k. instead of getting together as teenagers, the fic would take place over the span of 10 years, where they'd get together as adults. i was really excited about this one when i started it, but people started being transmisogynist in the comments so i stopped working on it and got into pathologic instead.

a document titled 'cool ishimaru has a chill day with boyfriend' which i think was about ishimaru discovering he's trans, that was meant to be a non-despair au and with everyone being generally supportive of him.

flaws - danganronpa fic where taka talks to makoto about feeling possessive and how horrible it feels but i never actually finished or published it. it's pretty much done now... i could go back and edit it down to where i'm satisfied with it but i don't know :/

i wanna ruin our friendship (we should be lovers instead) - some kind of au where either it's non-despair or everyone lives... it was going to have hina and taka bonding over having crushes on their best friends who are oblivious. it was gonna be from hina's pov bc i love her

in the middle - okay this one i swear i will write one day... whenever i replay trigger happy havoc... it was going to be a polyamory fic where mondo is dating chihiro, who used to date taka and desperately wants mondo and taka to be friends. they'd be in college here. chihiro is transfem and taka is transmasc and mondo realizes he's nonbinary i think was a plot point. anyway,

an untitled danganronpa fic wherein hope's peak decides the classes need mentors and taka picks juzo, w ho came out of the closet for the express purposes of getting out of having to mentor anybody. but taka thinks it was very brave of him and wants advice on coming out despite being a public figure.

letters - this was just going to be eight, thirty-one from taka's pov

jojo's despaire adventure - jojo characters put in a danganronpa situation. pretty sure polnareff was going to be the protag of this one. it was going to be a simulation dio was running to try and rewrite the universe, hence why so many characters from so many parts were there and also had no memory of each other. i think kakyoin was going to be the first casualty.

all of my started but unfinished assorted jjba works you can still find on ao3: next chapter of cherry wine was going to have a karaoke section because fox gave me the funniest image of hol horse singing a shitty maroon 5 song. i have no idea where i was headed with heads on a science apart. not sure what the next chapter of heart of glass was going to be and i don't feel like pulling up the outline but i can tell you how it ended if anyone is curious about that. she told me to come but i was already there - there was going to be a battle of the bands kind of thing wherein we were going to get hol horse singing 'ride a horse, save a cowboy'. that was the highlight of the chapter and i don't remember what else i had planned for it. starfish crusaders was going to have a mechanic where some of the joestars were part merpeople and could transform at will. warmth, though, i have no idea where i was going with that.

alexithymia - a patho fic exploring the turmoil of not knowing, understanding, or articulating your own feelings. with daniil, of course.

something just titled 'angst outline' that is for a long form pathologic angst fic i was never going to write because i was convinced nobody was going to read it. it was going to be burda but with even more problems and issues and angst for the sake of angst.

a fic about artemy's insomnia

some unspcified fics about daniil being autistic

bio murky - okay this is really obvious but the reason to read the fic was that it was transmasc artemy. essentially artemy and daniil met and hooked up and maybe started falling in love in the capital and then artemy left for home unexpectedly... because he was pregnant. i think this was going to be an everyone lives kind of au or potentially even a no-sand pest au.

a blurb about andrey and his bipolar disorder

e pluribus unem - if i ever actually write this one i'll have to find a title that won't invoke such a knee-jerk reaction but anyway this was a fic about daniil going about wooing artemy by making amends/friends with those of artemy's bound. it was going to be told in little shorts of daniil meeting with the kids. originally i wrote this from daniil's pov but i think if i write this one i'll do it from the kids' povs.

a blurb about daniil having a breakdown after the end of classic

let's climb the cliff edge and jump again - this was gonna be a fic about daniil and andrey's tentative friendship in university where andrey is a horrible influence, a horrible friend, and a horrible brother. it was loosely inspired by my toxic girl friendships i had in college [a/n: i was a girl in college] and the first time i got high. i wanted it to be My Dandrey Fic but without happy dandrey at the end... hints of griefdrey instead... and again thinking about andrey's bipolar disorder because i'm always thinking about it!

a mark/rubin fic that was gonna be nsfw.

mystical inclinations - a soulmate au with tattoos i think? polyamory and platonic soul mates were going to be a thing in this au but i kind of don't remember what i was doing with it.

another pregame burda au

a fic i started where rubin is mortified to be caught in between artemy and daniil's...whatever

a fic about artemy & daniil's first kiss

talk too much - daniil, who is usually a smoother talker, has a habit of sticking his foot in his mouth whenever artemy is around

another fic entry in my modern au thing, where artemy's kids meet daniil for the first time

vince malum bono - clara talking to each of her bound on the last few days of the plague, patho-2 version

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth - this was going to be mashing up daniil and artemy's routes (and at the end, clara's as well). with burda. of course.

when the day met the night - burda fic where daniil is about to get taken out by the government because he's a criminal against common sense and good morals, and artemy panics and tells the emmisaries who show up that they can't take daniil because they are to be married, and they can't take the menkhu's husband. and of course the emmissaries aren't stupid so they say they'll be back for the wedding. very romcom.

[touchoffleece]

Tag Game (look at me Ma' first participation in a tag game! 🎉 )

@wlwsakura I had to do a triple take seeing my name 😵‍💫, I am flattered at the tag pass.

Three Ships:

-Edeleth (female Byleth Eisner and Edelgard Von Hresvelg, Fire Emblem: Three Houses) they stole my heart back in when the game dropped with everything about them when shipped together. (Being vague on purpose to avoid spoilers for the Crimson Rose/Black Eagles route for any who may want to experience it blind) In specific female Byleth getting some exclusive scenes with Edelgard, and how their story shifts with the added element of a female Byleth in connection to certain story points that are kind of not as poignant in other routes or ships really makes me ship it more compared to male Byleth and Edelgard.

-Supercorp (Kara Zor El/Kara Danvers/ Supergirl and Lena Luthor from 2015's Supergirl) I have spilled my guts about them a fair amount already. The wlw ship that helped me realize I was not as straight as I thought because of how fond I was of certain same sex friends. They were so couple coded, and it really stinks (older) supercorp shippers went through what they went through by the network, show runners, comic book anti woke mob, other Supergirl TV show fans, other lgbtqi+ aligned people, and homophobes for calling Lena and Kara what they were.

-I wanted to try showing variety for my ships into bl/mlm or hetero ships, but I got to end with InoSaku (Ino Yamanak and Sakura Haruno from Naruto).

I got so much going on with this ship on some different layers.

Way back when I was introduced to Naruto via the anime, I was not at all a fan of Sakura. Looking back I might have been best described as a "Sakura Hater", but having done some growing and having been reminded of Sakura as a female character in a shonen all this time later, I now have realized how unfair I was being to this fictional character for things well out of her control (Kishimoto's bad writing, how women characters are usually treated in shonen animes, served with a side helping of internalized misogyny on my part).

The realization at all the unnecessary hate at a fictional character who couldn't fight the tropes she was writen with made me re evaluate Sakura, and I realized she isn't so bad. No worse than any other Rookie 9.

Along side that re analysize I realized how gay-rivals-to-lovers coded Sakura and Ino are, and how much of a missed opportunity they were. So now they haunt me.

First Ship Ever: hard to remember but either Sanae Ozora and Tsubasa (Captain Tsubasa) or Ranma and Akane (Ranma 1/2)

Lats Song:

Last Movie: Tales of Vesperia: The First Strike

Currently Reading: No books, but I have been meaning to read an auto biography book on the join Korean team composed of South and North Korean players from the 2018 Winter Olympics, I am currently reading the fanfictions: "The Pieces of me (cling to you)" (supercorp) by @wolfie-bee, re-reading "Thief-Nin Sakura" (Inosaku) by Hemerodromus while waiting on the next chapter of "A Dose of Venom" in the Mithridatism series by Androgyninja, and finally "Wednesday and the Nightshade Girls" by Onehitwonder13.

Due to tech limitations I can't link the other fics, sorry.

Currently Playing: FFXIV and Pokemon Scarlet

Currently Watching: One Piece Live Action

Currently Consuming: How-to Fix Tech guides

Currently Craving: some sense of normalcy or less anxiety

People I want to know better but don't have to participate: @casualkoalatea @weissaddams @daneicole @senshi-9 @coffeeshib @nakamatoo

[kittystargen3]

Summary: A time traveling Grandmaster, to the Prequel Era, trying to fix the mistakes the Jedi made, and get rid of a certain Sith too. Only Time Travel is not that easy, as Yoda will soon learn.

Today I updated Time Travel: To the Past Yoda Goes. Below is a small selection. Please click a link above to read more.

Chapter 60 - Feedback and Failures

Leeta walked down the Hangar with purpose.  On either side of her, crews prepared ships for their next voyages.  Everyone had a task to perform, and Leeta was one of them.  

“Troubled, your friends are.  Help them Meditate, you should.”  Master Yaddle had instructed her.  

Leeta felt proud that her Master trusted her with this task.  She turned to face a ship.  There it was.  Exactly where Master Yaddle had said it would be.  She hesitated outside, unsure if she should just walk in.  Knocking on a ship’s steel door is practically ineffective.  She didn’t want to startle anyone, if they were really as upset as her Master had implied.  

Suddenly the door opened and a Dathomirian teenager stuck her head out.  “Ugg, Master.  It’s another Jedi.”  She turned, leaving the ship's door opened for her to walk in too.  

Leeta could sense this girl was Force Sensitive, and recognised her using the title ‘Master.’ Yet for some reason, she referred to Jedi as something else.  Was she another foundling?  Leeta was about to question who this Master was, since Yaddle was under the impression her friends were alone, but then a tall man with white hair walked within view of the entrance.  

“Padawan, come inside.  Where is your Master?”  Dooku stuck his head out and looked both ways.  

Leeta glared at him.  “Where are my friends?”  Yaddle had shown her an old image of the Traitor, and explained how he was suspected of associating with sith and training darksiders.  

“Inside.  Did your Master send you ahead?”  Dooku eyed her and seemed to notice her expression for the first time.  “Oh.”  He rolled his eyes.  “The Padawans are all safe inside.  I suggested they Meditate using a tool of mine.  Come this way and see for yourself.  Asajj…”  

At Dooku’s call the Dathomirian followed her Master further into the ship.  Leeta hesitated a moment and then followed them as well.  

Inside, sitting on the floor in a row were the clan-mates she expected to find.  Each Padawan sat in meditation pose.  Attached to their fingers were black clips and on their heads were stick-on metal patches.  Wires connected them all to a separate metallic sphere, which was floating in front of each of them.

Suddenly Anakin opened his eyes and his sphere flew up.  Dooku passively reached out and caught the ball, while Anakin pulled off the contraption.  “Leeta, you’re here!”  

Beside him Freya, Kate, and Alex opened their eyes.  Their spheres fell down gradually to the floor in front of them.  

Kate smiled, “It’s good to see you.” Leeta noticed her friends seemed a lot more stable than she expected.  Why, if she had lost her Master, she’d be a blubbering mess.

“What are you doing?” She leaned in closer.  “Why are you trusting him?”

“We were meditating.  The spheres kind-of react to your emotions and it helps you to control them,”  Kate answered.  

“Yeah, Grandmaster Dooku invented them.” Alex added.

“I merely put into practice an older theory on Biofeedback and applied it to Force use.  Some alterations still need to be made to perfect it.”  Dooku placed Anakin’s sphere back onto the table where the boy had placed his wires and clips.  

Leeta found herself glaring at the man again.  

“Grandmaster Dooku isn’t so bad.  He’s been trying to help us since it all happened.” Freya said.

“Yeah, where is your Master?” Anakin asked.  

“She went to help your Masters,”  Leeta shared.  The gasps that answered her were wholly unexpected...  

[jassisass]

Spider Bites

chapter 2

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also i noticed the italics don’t paste on here but it takes too long to fix it so if you prefer italics for emphasis and such the ao3 version has those 😊

A few weeks have passed since your initial fight, but you and Miguel have been at each other’s throats. You can hardly be in the same room as him without one of you starting a fight. Well, you’re the one staring most of the fights but it’s only because he keeps making digs at you. Most of the time, they’re just regular arguments with him threatening to kick you off the team again and again. Sometimes they end up being physical. He never really hurts you, but every time he makes it clear that he’s the one in charge and it usually always ends with you being pinned to the wall or floor. Sometimes you put up a fight, but most of the time you don’t bother. Physically, he’s way stronger than you ever could be, and you part of you likes being overpowered because there aren’t many people who can. After almost every fight, you make some excuse to find a secluded enough place to relieve your pent up emotions, but it never quite satisfies you. You’ve almost gotten caught a few times.

Though he tries to restrain himself, you have a way of pressing Miguel’s buttons in a way nobody else can. Stopping just shy of his breaking point. For a second, you wonder if this has anything to do with your pheromones… if your emotions are affecting him as well. Could that be what’s causing you two to fight all the time? Your lack of control? Are you making him lose control with the scent radiating off of you whenever he’s around?

Even right now, you can smell it. Sweet and musky, embarrassingly strong. It’s been getting worse, especially with all the fighting. It’s just the two of you there in an abandoned observatory. You, Miguel and a few other spiders had taken out an alternate Lizard. You lingered back until everyone else left, and now there isn’t anyone to shield you from his wrath. You’re on your stomach. Miguel is holding your forearms against your back with one hand and your head is pressed into the ground by the other. He wants to make it clear that he’s the one in charge, yet you keep pushing back against his authority.

“What did I tell you about following my orders?” Miguel hisses through his mask. Even though you’d removed yours before you started fighting, his remains on.

He’s referring to the fact that you didn’t stay paired up with one of the Peters that came with you. It’s not your fault though, because that Peter pisses you off and not in the hot way Miguel does.

“We took the guy out, didn’t we?” you say. “Aren’t we supposed to be adaptable?”

“It doesn’t matter!” he says. “You could’ve fucked everything up!”

So, maybe it isn’t just that Peter annoys you, because he does. You fucked it up on purpose, but it was a calculated move. One that wouldn’t have caused any issues, but Miguel doesn’t know that.

“It doesn’t matter! It was fine!”

“God, you’re impossible to work with,” he’s beginning to loosen his grip on your arms.

“You keep assigning us missions together when you literally have hundreds of other options,” you say. “You like working with me.”

Miguel seethes because you’re right. He has consistently been picking you on the majority of the missions he goes on.

“Aww, did I hit a nerve?” you taunt. “I bet you’re enjoying this too.”

Miguel starts to chuckle softly, and his mask comes off. You catch a glimpse of his shiny white fangs. He leans in close, and you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Oh my god,” you close your eyes, a shiver going down your spine when his breath “Oh my god. Is he gonna do it?”

“Look at me.”

You look back at him.

“If I have to put you in your place again there are going to be consequences.”

“Oh yeah?” you say, your voice shaking slightly. “Like what? You’ll bite me?”

Miguel adjusts the position of your arms in a way that hurts, and you make a noise that sounds a bit too much like a moan.

“Sounds like you’re the one who’s enjoying this.”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second. “And what if I do?”

Miguel is caught off guard by your answer, and he doesn’t respond, so you keep talking.

“We always fight like this and you always threaten to kick me off, but you haven’t.”

Miguel growls. “You’re so fucking aggravating.”

“Yeah? So are you.”

For a second there’s just the sound of him breathing. Inhaling in your sweet scent. You can hear his breathing grow slightly heavier, and you wonder if the effects of your pheromones are increasing. You’ve been in close proximity with him before but never this close for this long. You have no idea how it’s going to affect him, or how long it’ll take. You notice he’s sweating slightly.

He groans softly, and you swallow.

“Why does this keep happening?” He lets you go and stands up. You doubt he wants you to try and answer.

You roll over onto your back and stand up. When you look at him, for just a moment his mask slips. He doesn’t look angry anymore. He looks exhausted. Guilt pangs in your chest as he turns his back to you.

“Miguel—”

“No, just—just go. Please.”

You don’t know what to say to him anyway, so you leave and check out the city. This one is pretty average, except much greener than your city. Lots of trees and plants growing everywhere. The Spider who lives there is nice too. You swing around the city, and eventually you find yourself at the top of a building once again. You take off your mask and take a deep breath. The air smells faintly of flowers.

“I need to stop doing this,” you think. It can’t be good for either of you, or for the fate of the spider-verse. Miguel hates that name, but you think it’s better than the ‘poly-arachnid whatever’ bullshit he came up with.

You close your eyes and lay down. Now that there’s nothing to distract you, the urge for release makes itself known. You do your best to ignore it this time. The Spider-man from this city could pop up at any time. You’re not a stranger to risks but you have a limit. Part of you wants to go back home but you decide there’s no point. Plus you’re pretty sure you’ve been overdoing it with the masturbation lately, and it’s gotten to the point where it doesn’t really feel good anymore. You take deep breaths, focusing on the scent of the flowers, and after a while your arousal is finally suppressed, at least for the most part.

The same can’t be said for Miguel. He’s currently battling his mixed emotions towards you. One one hand, you always find some way to him constantly, but on the other hand he can’t get enough of you. He’ll never admit to it, but he loves having to put you in your place. People rarely challenge him, except for Hobie, but Hobie… he’s different. He doesn’t care enough to fight, because he’s only there for Gwen. You though, you have a way of riling him up. It’s like the longer he’s around you, the more intense it gets.

Annoyance and anger aren’t the only thing he feels when he’s around you. He didn’t notice this the first time, but he finds himself feeling oddly aroused after or even during your fights. He’s not sure how he feels about that. It means you’re a distraction, but you’re a distraction he can’t get enough of.

Of course, you don’t know that. As far as you’re concerned, he hates you but you’re too valuable to let go. Even if he doesn’t hate you, or if you were to exist in a world where he even has feelings for you, it would never work. You’re deadly. You can’t risk a relationship with anyone. It would just hurt too much, not being able to kiss, hardly being able to touch. You’ve tried many times to synthesize some sort of antidote or something that can neutralize your poison, even just temporarily, but nothing ever works. You’ve been experimenting on roaches, and you’ve probably sent a mountain’s worth to their demise. It’s so bad that you get too scared to shake someone’s hand on a hot day, or pay for something with cash because being exposed to your sweat could be the end of their life. Normal people are just too delicate.

You can’t help but think that it’s a shitty power to have. It’s not even something you can use in combat, at least not intentionally, and it’s not like you want to kill everyone you fight either. You’d rather not have any unnecessary deaths on your hands. That’s another reason you need to stop fighting with Miguel. Sure, you both have your suits on when you touch, but you never know what could happen. If he dies because of you… everything would be fucked.

You’d be fucked.

The realization hits you and you open your eyes and stare up at the sky. You need to stop. You really need to stop, for the greater good.

“For the greater good,” You tell yourself. “Just shut the hell up and follow your orders.”

You can’t have everything fall apart because you can’t control yourself. Just imagine, you being the one who caused the multiverse to crumble because of your own desires. Not being around Miguel is a small price to pay for saving everyone you can.

After taking one last deep breath, you decide it’s finally time to return to the Spider-hub. You type the location in your watch and step through the portal.

Every time you come to the Spider-hub, you’re always a little awestruck. For so long, you’d felt so alone as a superhero. A lot of the spidermen were lucky enough to have their best friend. The one who knows. Their guy in the chair they can confide in, even if they fully don’t understand the stresses of fighting villains. You aren’t so lucky to have that, so once you found out that you in fact aren't alone at all, and that there’s actually thousands of you out is a huge comfort to you. Even though you still have your secrets. All of you do.

Another reason you like walking around in the Spider-hub is that you know there’s not a high chance of you running into Miguel. He’s almost always spending his time alone, and even if he does decide to get off his platform the place is so huge that the chances of you actually seeing him is close to none. You decide to stop by the cafeteria for something to eat.

Everyone you walk past who knows you greets you cheerfully, which brightens your spirits. It’s funny, you’re all vastly different, but you all have this understanding. You all get it. Even if you’re complete strangers, you all understand each other on a level that nobody else can. You don’t have to worry about hiding your face. Hell, there’s even a therapist you can actually be honest with.

You sit down at one of the tables in the cafeteria with your snack. As you’re about to take a bite, you sense someone approaching you from behind. You turn to see a tall black man wearing a black and white suit. He has locs that have been put into braids with blonde streaks in them. He’s a spider-man you’ve seen around before, and you’d actually gone on a mission with him recently.

“Hey, Arachne, right?” he says.

“Yeah… Spiderman?”

He laughs. “Wayne.”

You tell him your name. “You can sit if you want.”

He sits down across from you. You’re not gonna lie to yourself, he’s kinda fine, but you can’t get into another entanglement. You don’t know if you can. You’re pretty emotionally invested in Miguel at this point.

“So y'know that move you did when we were on that mission the other day?” he asks. “The one where you tied that guy up?”

“Yeah,” you say. You’re proud of yourself for coming up with that move, but you doubt you’re the only one who’s done it. You all have your own styles of fighting but there’s a lot of overlap since you all virtually have the same powers.

“How’d you come up with that?”

“I guess I was inspired by how spiders wrap up their pray in their webs,” you say. “It took a lot of practice to get it right, and I can’t really use it on anyone who’s a lot bigger than me, or it’s too hard to spin them around. Oh! I also had to develop a new web formula so the strands would split for faster coverage. It took me months to finally figure it out.”

“You don’t got a science guy?”

“Nah, it’s just me.”

He’s about to say something but his watch beeps. He glances down at it. Probably another anomaly.

“Damn, I gotta go but we should hang out sometime. If you want to.”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod. “Just let me know when you’re free.”

He nods and salutes you before falling backwards through the portal he just opened. You wonder if he wants to hang out as a friend or on a date. You decide to ask him whenever he gets back to you.

Once you finish your food, you wander around the Spider-hub for a bit, having little conversations with various spiders before deciding to go to train. You’re not out of practice by any means, but it never hurts to work on your skills. After sparring with a few people, you leave the to sit on the outer wall of the building. Miguel’s city is straight out of the future, similarly to the city you’d gone to when fighting the undersea Doc Ock, except instead of neon nightlife vibes, it looks more utopian. It’s almost funny that a man like Miguel lives there, though with all the tech they have he probably deals with crazy villains.

Them and the ones from hundreds of other universes. You’ve really put him through a lot. Jessica hasn’t talked to you about it recently, you two rarely see each other, but you can almost feel the disappointed look she’d give you if she knew. Maybe she does know, and doesn’t want to deal with it along with being Spider Woman and a pregnancy. You can’t believe she even goes on missions with a baby on the way.

Eventually, your own watch goes off. It’s a message from Wayne, asking if you’re busy. You text him back that you’re not and he sends you the coordinates to his universe. You open a portal below you and do a backflip off the building, diving straight in.

When you make it through to the other side, you shoot a web out to a building, swing in a long arc up and around and cling to the side. Wayne lands right beside you. The night air is cool and refreshing.

“So you want a quick tour?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” you can’t see his face but by the sound of his voice he’s smiling.

Wayne’s city looks remarkably like yours, and at first you don’t notice any differences. A few advertisements you’ve never seen before, but besides that the layout of the city is actually familiar to you. Keeping up with Wayne is easy, and you’re having a lot of fun following him through the city. This job and Miguel have been stressing you out. As you weave between cars and trucks and swing around the city, you feel almost elated. Wayne brings you to a skyscraper where he stops.

“This is where I usually hang out,” he says. “When I’m not… being spiderman.”

You nod and take off your mask. “I have a spot kinda like this back home.”

“Yeah?” He takes off his mask too. “What’s your city like?”

“Almost exactly like this one. Like the layout and everything. Maybe some different street names and some buildings are in different places but besides that it’s pretty much the same place.”

Wayne nods. “You go back often?”

“Not really. I mean, yeah to check on things but I only go home when I’m off duty. I don’t really like hanging around my apartment ifI can’t just relax… even though I have shit to deal with pretty much every day.”

“I get that.”

You both sit in silence for a moment. It’s nice talking to someone who comes from a similar city as you, and it’s nice being somewhere that feels familiar.

“So, is this supposed to be a date or..?” you ask.

“Nah, nah,” he says. “Just hanging out. I should’ve said that earlier, my bad.”

“No it’s fine, I just wanted to make sure.”

“I feel like I don’t have time for all that romantic stuff. At least not right now.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Me too. I feel like I barely have time for myself.”

“Is that why you and Miguel are always fighting?”

You make a face, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah… that’s part of it I guess.”

“I can’t blame you man, he’s an asshole. You got balls the way you talk to him though.”

“Honestly I don’t know how I haven’t gotten kicked off yet.”

“You’re a good fighter,” he says, giving a gentle punch on the shoulder. “We need people like you.”

“Thanks.”

You smile. You haven’t had time to hang out with your friends back home lately, so it’s nice spending time with someone. You two end up talking for a while before both your watches go off.

Emergency backup needed: Earth-17778

“Where you headed?” you ask.

He shows you his watch. Earth-17778. You show him your watch with the same number. You both pull

your masks on and portal to the other dimension.

When you make it in, you lean off the side of the building and scan the area for any threats. It’s close to sunrise, judging by the color of the sky. Your spider sense tells you to get out of the way so you drop down and something bursts through the wall where you were resting moments before. A flash of red blue and glowing purple broke through the brick wall of the next building. You cringe. No wonder this spider needs backup—they’re getting their ass beat.

“Oh shit,” Wayne says.

You’re about to follow after them, when a second figure comes out through the hole in the building in a blur. That small glipse tells you enough. You’re dealing with two Prowlers.

“I’ll go through if you go up top,” he says.

You nod and thwip webs out of both your wrists and launch yourself over top of the buildings. Both the Prowlers are fast, but it’s easy to follow their path of destruction. You and Wayne finally catch up, and you see one Prowler, a man, holding back the arms of Spiderman, a classic red and blue Peter, while the second Prowler, a woman, is walking towards them with her claws out. You’ve never seen two villains working together like this before.

“Yo!” Wayne calls out.

Both Prowlers look up, eyes narrow, and you feel a chill go down your spine. Something about the Prowler makes you feel uneasy, and now you have to deal with two of them. They look at each other so you decide to make your move.

“I got left,” you tell Wayne, going after the female Prowler.

When you reach her, she grabs you by the arm and slams you into the rubble covered ground. She’s strong. Strong enough so you’re concerned about how this fight is going to end.

“So you from around here?” you ask, starting to sit up.

“Shut up,” she growls in her distorted voice. “I’m going to destroy you.”

She goes to punch you in the head, and you roll out of the way, standing in the same fluid movement. The Prowler fights with her claws out, and you narrowly miss getting your throat sliced open more than a few times. She tears through every web you shoot at her, so you decide to create some distance. When you’re in the air, you realize that Wayne and the other Prowler are long gone. Spiderman is on the ground, but he’s alive.

You make it to the top of a building and you jump backwards off of it, diving with your back towards the ground. The Prowler launches herself after you, but she glitches, giving you the opportunity to shoot a sticky mass of webs onto her face with one hand and use the other to anchor yourself back to the building so you can swing back around in an arc and slam her into the ground from above, pinning her by her wrists. She struggles hard, but you manage to hold her arms together and tie them up with webs, making sure she can’t slice through them. Once she’s restrained, you tie her up fully and send her to the go home machine.

Once she’s gone, you check on Spiderman.

“You good man?” you ask, holding out a hand to help him up.

“Yeah… I’m good,” he says, taking your hand and standing. “I wasn’t sure if I was gonna make it though.”

He looks like he’s about to pass out.

“You should probably get yourself checked out man,” you say. “We can handle the rest.”

He nods and opens up a portal and leaves you to call Wayne on your watch. “You good bro?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Cops should be on their way. Is the other guy okay?”

“He’s fine. He had to go to the infirmary but I think he’ll be fine.”

“Aight, I’m coming over.”

Wayne swings between two buildings on your right and lands next to you.

“You send the other Prowler to the go home machine?” he asks.

“Yeah. She literally almost killed me though. If she wasn’t glitching so much I would’ve gotten fucked up.”

“Shit,” he says.

He holds out his fist. You give him a fist bump and you go your separate ways. He has time off, while you’re still on duty but technically free to go wherever you want. You decide to go back to your own universe to make sure everything’s in order.

As you patrol the city, you realize you’re in a good mood, which hasn’t happened in awhile. You made a connection today. A new friend.