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adaptacy · 1 year ago

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i am obsessing so hard over gale. like, i kid you not, i started out HATING him cause he was eating my artifacts and seemed completely useless in battle. but then i started a second playthru with my bf and i was like 'well im romancing astarion in my main so i GUESS i'll go for the other pretty boy'

....

it was the start of a very, very, very extreme brainrot fest.

so! as I learn more abt him (im in the shadow cursed lands rn, haven't had the sex scene with him yet so i dont know his character super well/im not super confident in portraying him) take this little snippet of wizard angst cause he needs a hug and i wanna give it to him :)

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“I reckon it’s sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Sweet,” he clarified. “And smooth. Dare I say… simple. I must admit, I was somewhat befuddled with the absence of a necessity for complexities; you required no books, no training, no vexatious intricacies– it came naturally.” He remained fixated on a point off in the distance, perhaps watching the quiet rippling of the lake, just off the camp’s coast, undisturbed by the activity that usually stirred during the day.

Peace was a mercy, and an uncommon one, but you felt it, here, with him. Like the eye of the hurricane that stalked you throughout Faerûn, the bloodshed and chaos that ruled your everyday life was far from absent, but it was silenced. Screams that echoed in your ears were muted, momentarily, granting you a glimpse of life before your adventure, before the hunt, before the cult, before the illithid’s influence. It would be short, but the fact that it occurred at all was a miracle.

“Like wine.”

“Wine?” You chuckled, shifting a little closer, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulder, further warming you.

“I predicted bitterness. A bite, or a sting. I’ve read stories about flavorful affections such as these. Stories. Can you believe it?”

“With how much reading you do? I can,” you hummed, resting your head against his side.

“Tales, I believed them to be. I’ve seen love. Red love. Irascible, fractious love. Impotent, paralyzing love. Love like a raging sea. A love that I trusted. A fool I must’ve been.” There’s a short, woe-rooted chuckle that escapes him followed by a thin exhale out of necessity, out of defense. You knew who he was referencing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mention the name. “Any sane soul would regret it.”

“Do you not?”

“There’s little time in this life– certainly, it offers no such room for regrets. I’ve wasted too many moonrises pondering the past.” His fingers graze your arm, and you allow your eyes to fall closed. “Many a wondrous thing I’ve witnessed. More than a man of my caliber should deserve. In a single lifetime, I’ve experienced more than a library's worth of literature could possibly cover.” He smiles, you can hear it in his voice. “From a mage’s best dreams to a direwolf’s worst nightmares– I’m sure I, myself, couldn’t have asked for a more thorough tour of what this plane, and a few others, have to offer.”

“And yet there’s more.” Your remark is a light-hearted one, as you are sure everyone will have more to reflect on the closer you get to the cure you seek.

But he sighs. A quiet one, restraint tightening his lungs, and you feel unease. “Amongst it all, I have even discovered what I once argued impossible. Simplicity. A priceless simplicity.” This time, when his arm moves, it brings you closer. He craves the contact, the connection struck between you. “Simplicity in love, of all things.”

Your eyes open to find his gaze no longer on the quiet riverbank, and instead on you. There’s a bruise on his left eyebrow, and a cut on the bridge of his nose. He’s pretty, even with the wounds, but you know they sting. A part of you feels guilty for seeing such beauty in his suffering. Deep down you know there is no Gale without suffering.

At a glance, that’s all there is; a bruise, a cut, and a solemn smile. An exchange of pity for one another. Even for yourselves. An agreement, silent but strong.

On further investigation, his eyes hold an unnatural glisten. Only then does it register.

“Gale��”

“It’s what’s best.” You sit up slightly, but you’re met with a gentle hush, and his smile grows, the dimples on his cheeks fired by an unknown audacity. “I’ve come to accept it. It is the decider of my fate– it always has been.”

“There are other ways,” you push out the words, and you find the bite, the sting, that he mentioned. In love, you find the pain.

“Never did I imagine the world outside my tower to hold such beauties. Such contagious fragility. There are no books on this subject. No studies on this exchange of power. What is a puppet to do when he loses his creator? His puppeteer? When he can no longer stand, no longer dance, no longer perform? When obeying is all he knows, what does he do without direction?”

He doesn’t sit up, he doesn’t stir. He looks back out to the waters. For guidance, maybe. For peace. For life. You’re left with no choice but to settle with the tide. A hand comes to rest on the dark imprint below his neck, desperate to find answers where the weave fails.

“I have found simplicity. And, perhaps, that is the final step. I never imagined growing old. I suppose it isn’t meant to be.” He breathes, and you can feel the steadiness of his lungs. He isn’t scared. You can only wonder how long he’s contemplated this decision. “You see me. You look past the strings, my love, but that doesn’t mean they don’t still linger. I am but a man; I am no hero, I am no god. But if your safety is the only accomplishment I ever succeed in, I will lie satisfied in my earthly rest.”

“A few more days,” you whisper, pleading.

“I only ask of you one thing.” Gale inhales, his heart pumping against your palm, pressing closer to his skin, desperate to feel him, to feel more than the orb, to feel more than Mystra’s design. You find his humanity in the tear on his cheek, the hair on his chest, the irregular mock of his heart’s rhythm. You find his humanity in his love, in his hopeless compassion, in his unwavering loyalty. “Don’t let that damned vampire even think about touching me.”

He chuckles, and you do too, pulling yourself into his chest, hugging him close. He repays the affection, lips on the top of your head, his every breath lingering on your scalp. The peace remains, but you fear this may be your last serving of merciful tranquility.

You only hope it isn’t Gale’s.

#bg3 #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #gale bg3 #fuck mystra #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #i love this silly wizard #bg3 angst #gale x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios angst

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serickswrites · 3 months ago

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Far Better IV

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: referenced captivity, referenced torture, referenced stabbing, referenced blood, referenced wounds, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Hero was surprised they woke up at all. They were even more surprised when they woke up they found they were in a hospital bed. Caretaker really had rescued them. It hadn't all been a dream.

"Love, oh thank God," Caretaker's face suddenly appeared over Hero's. "I thought I lost you."

"'m 'ere," Hero managed to croak after swallowing a few times.

"Here, have some water," Caretaker held a straw to Hero's lips. Hero sucked greedily on the straw, suddenly parched.

"Thanks," they managed to say normally after a few gulps. "You saved me."

Caretaker's face was full of guilt. "I almost didn't though. You were nearly dead by the time the ambulance arrived. I thought I lost you."

"But you didn't." Hero felt fine. They realized they were probably being pumped full of painkillers. But they were ok with that. They were alive. Caretaker was with them. That's all that mattered.

"It's all my fault," Caretaker said with tear filled eyes. "Love, you nearly died because of me."

"But I didn't."

"Hero, if help didn't arrive when it did, you would have bled out in my arms. You would have died because I owed Villain money. I couldn't live with myself if you died."

Hero put a hand to Caretaker's cheek. "I don't blame you, Caretaker. Villain has always been trying to catch me. It would have happened one day. I'm just glad you made it in time."

"I love you, Hero. And I am so so so so sorry. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you."

"There's nothing to make up. Though maybe instead of borrowing from a criminal master mind, we can get a bank loan next time."

Caretaker smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. Though we won't need to worry about Villain. They won't be hurting anyone where they are for a long time."

Caretaker kissed Hero's hand. "You need to rest, love. Close your eyes, I'll watch over you while you sleep."

"Good. Good." Hero let themself sink deeper into the pillows. They were alive. Caretaker was safe. Villain was, well, they didn't know where, but Villain was gone. Things were far better than they were before any of this started. And Hero could live with that very easily.

"I love you," Caretaker's voice drifted into Hero's head as they slipped into sleep.

"Love you," Hero whispered as they sank into the welcome darkness of sleep knowing that Caretaker would be there when they woke up. And Villain wouldn't be. This was far, far better than anything else. Hero smiled to themself knowing that their life would continue with Caretaker. And that they were all safe.

Tags: @aarika-merrill@theelvishcowgirl@books-are-everything @glassthedumbass @st0rmm

@lthrboy @painsthegame @lokigodofaces @ladyflautist @defire

@itsjessiegirl1

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laxibbeb · 20 days ago

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Don’t worry, it’s truly been a week for us all. And not to flood you with asks, I just happened to have this ready at the same time as your snippet:)

I’m a fan of those Greek mythology retellings (although I haven’t finished Song of Achilles because I know how it ends and I’m scared of getting hurt). And I don’t know if you’ve ever read Gods of Jade and Shadow, but it was interesting.

Ninth House is fun, it has that mystery vibe to it while still being dark urban fantasy. Which is a genre that I don’t typically enjoy?

Also I enjoyed Too Good to be True. It was interesting trying to figure out each character’s motives throughout the book.

Have you read Priory of the Orange Tree? I loved it, but I ran into the same problem as you. I had a massive book hangover and haven’t been able to get into the second one yet 😂

I…am hesitant to tell you one of the things I’m pretentious about. I think it might give me away. I can tell you it has to do with one of my hobbies, though! For the other, I can be a bit of a snob about wine. I love a good Sauvignon Blanc. Truly immaculate. (But YES! Let’s be pretentious bitches together. That’s truly the dream. It’s also what Mor x Nesta could have been but anyway) haha maybe I’ll indulge both of us and write that someday 😊

Ooh the weaver? I see the appeal! It’s hard to pick one for ACOTAR because most of the characters are already hot. Andras, maybe? Dying for the sake of the plot? What a guy. Although I guess he’s not special in that regard, if you think about it.

I’m so sorry I just started talking😂

For non ACOTAR? I’m going to be honest I didn’t think about this either, so I’m doing the same as you. Uh, this is definitely a popular one, but that one fish from finding Nemo. Gill, I think his name is.

I can verify I am not one of the two people in the fandom who can understand that reference. Unsure if that narrows anything down for you (so I’m going to narrow it down even further and tell you I’m American)

I feel like these asks keep getting longer and longer. I don’t know what that says about us.

Anyways!

Do you have any favorite fics? They could be for any ship, honestly. I also enjoy Nessian and sometimes Feysand, and am open to other ones too.

Do you play any instruments? (I don’t think I asked this already?)

santa ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 i hope you flood me with asks, i love them

oH MY GOD i do that too, where i leave a book when i know it'll get bad 🫢 i'm scared to proceed with other books form "The Poppy War" for an example, because i have a vague idea of what will happen and i just. i just can't i've not read "Ninth House", i wanted to but not gonna lie, i'm scared i won't like it.. leigh bardugo hasn't ever done it for me before

i wanted to give something new of hers a try, though! so maybe?

"Too good to be true" is actually going on my tbr now, especially since i promised myself i'd read more thrillers (and haven't but shhh)

i HAVE read priory, (i have like, 80 pages left, but i'm GETTING TO IT so let's say i read it for a moment) it was so good! but yeah, the second one is gong to have to wait

(i would absolutely read an 800 page long, day to day account of tané's life, though)

---

OKAY, a wine snob??? that's so classy and sophisticated of you, santa (might i say - hot) i'll wait for your other pretentious thing, that's ok see! you see the mor x nesta potential for what it really is... divine and so, so sexy if you ever decide to write mor x nesta i'll owe you my firstborn, actually

---

OH MY GOD, THE ANDRAS SHADE (i wish the most important man in the acotar series had a single speaking line, not gonna lie)

okay, here's the thing - i've watched nemo one time and, stupid me i thought that was it, so i deleted all the memories i had of this movie. little did i know people would be referencing it for the rest of time i googled gill the fish from finding nemo and you know what? i GET IT. it's his slutty fin swoop

---

you know what, if you said that you recognized what i was talking about, only then would i have IMMEDIATELY known who you are

i now have 3 pieces of information that could possibly help me in figuring out your identity, and let me tell you, it doesn't narrow it down that much 🤣 so you're in the clear

---

I BRING FORTH MY FAVOURITE FANFICTION:

i cannot have a favourite fics list without mentioning @separatist-apologist, as she's the reason why i'm even in this fandom to begin with, so even though we all know this already -> take your pick and it's my favourite ever

what lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why by @foundress0fnothing THIS ONE IS SO MUCH FUN, and it has bi lucien; what more could you want

Springtide by @clarafae i've been really enjoying this one and i'm not done with it yet but it belongs here, ok i did not think i could like high lady of spring!elain but turns out i just needed a good fic

also, i've started A Blaze in the Dark by the famous @the-lonelybarricade and i can already tell you it belongs here as well

lately i've been reading a lot of azris, actually!

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows by @jules-writes-stories (if you're reading this because ot the tag, jules please know i haven't forgotten about you, I'LL COME BACK) anyway, i love this one and i've been having so much fun reading it

i'm due a reread of Kerosene by @chunkypossum which is my absolute favourite and changed my life, actually

AND there are so many more but i need to finish replying to you before i turn 80 years old, unfortunately

---

i do not play an instrument :(( i used to really want to play the violin when i was a kid but when i asked my mom if i could attend music school she got war flashbacks and said she wouldn't put me through that (she also said i have no predispositions for doing music, which wow, thanks mom (she was right) 😋) so no instruments for baby laxi but i like to sing in my car when i'm driving 🤣

---

we're writing love letters to one another from across the sea and as the time passes they get progressively longer we just need to embrace it

it got to the point when i'm putting dividers whenever i change the topic to make it easier to read 🤣

as always, santa tell me your answers too, please!! and have a

#mom said “DO LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE i'm begging you”#no hard feelings about that though - if i really wanted it that badly she would've let me #instead i happily picked ceramics 😎#dearsanta #for a moment i thought tumblr deleted our letter >:( but we were ok all along

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tangyangie · 2 years ago

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Hello can I request a short story of karma seeing reader at the old classroom of 3-E after 7 years (and that both of them having a crush on each other during their junior high) then they went inside and talked Abt the things they did back then and their memories (pls add sum sad parts) the classroom was filled with nostalgia then when it was time for the reader to go home karma stops them and told them Abt his feelings back then (basically a confession) then it's up to you

This idea has been stuck at my head for some time now

» a loving feeling →

character: karma

description: you and karma meet at the old campus after 7 years, and you both had a crush on each other during your time there. what do you talk about?

notes: EEEEE this is such a cute request!! sorry it's probably not great bc i've got a headache but i really enjoyed making this!!

also im pretty sure this is referencing the reunion too, but if it's not pls just tell me i'll totally make another!!

also thank you to the people for requesting!! i really enjoy making them even if i take a while to do it </3

"y/n!"

you hear a voice from behind you. turning around, you smile and run towards it.

"karma!!" you jump into his arms, as he laughs and spins you around while you muffle your giggling in his shoulder.

"it's been a while." you sigh, as he playfully set you down. he smiles at you. "yes, it has."

"come on, now. let's go see everyone else!" you exclaimed.

he sighs and shakes his head. "alright, alright."

you grab his hand and drag him along into the small building. there's a small party going on in one of the rooms, with food and drinks.

you see many of your old friends. some look a little different than before, such as nagisa, who finally cut his hair.

"guys!! hi!" you say, smiling as you stride into the room.

"hey, y/n! how's it going?" kataoka says.

you run over to your friends to catch up on everything that's happened for the past 7 years, as well as jesting them about their love lives.

"speaking of which, y/n, what about you?? did you finally find someone?" rio teases.

karma hears this, and instinctively listens closer.

you sigh theatrically, and place your hand upon your forehead while slightly leaning back.

"alas, i have not. i've been quite busy these past 7 years. i did so happen to ace my job interview, though!" you add in, slowly beginning to brag about the money you were getting.

rio chuckles. "well, at least we know you'll be fine even if you end up alone for the rest of your life!"

"hey!!" you laughed, gaping at her while dramatically holding your hand over your heart. "that hurts!" you frown.

"i doubt that." she teases, as you roll your eyes playfully and go get some refreshments.

rio walked over to karma, who had been listening intently the whole time. "you're not slick, karma. they totally saw you."

"hush, they did not!" he smirks.

"did too."

"did no—" rio interrupted him, shaking a finger in his face.

"anyways-- you should confess to them." she smiles.

"are you kidding? any feelings they might have had are definitely gone." he sighs.

"i don't think so," rio starts. "i think they're still into you."

karma grumbles something under his breath, looking away, and rio sighs playfully. "just give it some thought. if you decide you need help, i'll totally be your wingwoman!" she winks.

he just chuckles, and said, "sure, then. let's give them a shot."

»»»

about an hour had passed, and you decided you wanted to walk around the old campus. 7 years is a while, you wanted to see if anything had changed.

obviously, you invited karma to join you.

"come on, it'll be fun!"

he laughed and replied, "maybe i can throw myself off the cliff again!"

"karma!!" you shriek, doubling over in laughter. "that's not funny!"

"you're showing it very well." he says, giving you a thumbs up.

you grab his hand as you run around and observe all around the campus. it seems that most of the scenery has stayed the same.

you both recall funny memories, your old study areas, the place where you held your trainings, and more.

but of course, the most abundant being in your memories was korosensei.

"i still think about him, a lot." you say, brushing your hand against the ground as you sat down.

"..so do i." karma sighed, lowering down next to you. you both talk about him and remember all the memories. even though he was dead, he continued to have a happy place in your memories.

karma wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you continued to reminisce.

"he's the reason i was able to get this far in the first place. i owe him everything." you smile.

you both basked in the silence as you were overwhelmed by the nostalgia.

"hey, y/n, there's something i—"

"guys, come here! we've got cake!!" nagisa shouted from the campus.

"ooh, cake!!" you exclaimed, easily pulled away from the silence.

karma laughed and helped you up. you both walked back to the classroom, hand in hand.

after you had both gotten your cake slices, you went to go converse some more.

"so, how'd it go, loverboy?" rio smiles.

"didn't happen." he sighed.

"what?!" rio gawked at him. "after all my help??"

karma laughed. "what help??" he whispered. "you gave me a cookie and then kicked me in the deep end."

"i thought you already knew how to swim." she shrugged.

"can i have a snorkel?" he joked.

»»»

after a few more hours and activities, everyone had decided it was time to leave. you wanted to help clean up, so you decided to stay back and send everyone off.

little did you know, that karma had also decided to hang around.

"need some help?" he teased, seeing you struggle to get every single plate at once.

"would be nice," you smiled. he easily took the stack and carried them to the trash bin while you got a few paper towels to clean the tables. karma helped everywhere else.

after the cleaning, you swore the classroom looked cleaner than when you came.

"nice job, karma!! it looks great in here." you say proudly, with your hands on your hips. "we.. should probably get going now. i know you're pretty busy."

"sure, let's go." he smiles, scooping you up as you giggle.

he carries you to the front, while you groan, and tell him you forgot your things. he sets you down, and you run back inside as he leans against a tree while waiting for you.

his thoughts were running through his head. could they have noticed how nervous i've been today?? i've barely made any jokes at all.

i definitely need to tell them. right now.

you arrive again, ready to leave the school. "alright, karma. see you around!" you smile and begin to walk off.

although a little apprehensive, he stops you.

"wait, y/n." he says, with a smile on his face. "there was something i wanted to tell you earlier." he says.

"yeah, what's up?" you smirked.

slightly stuttering and breaking his usually chill persona, he started to speak.

"i.. i don't know if anyone told you this, but, i used to have a big crush on you. like, huge." he started.

you faced him, and crossed your arms and smiled. "really? i never noticed. tell me more." you teased him lightly.

he put his hands in his pockets. "so... you knew?" he said, feeling a little defeated.

"please, you were a junior high student. as slick as you thought you were, you were a little dumb." you joke.

"that's not very nice," he rolls his eyes dramatically. you laugh and take a few steps closer to him.

gently taking hold of his hands, you look into his eyes. "i knew the whole time. but, there's something i don't know now."

"if that happens to be a certain question, i think you might be in luck." he says.

"it seems you already know." you whisper, leaning a little closer.

"yes, y/n. i still very much like you." he sighs.

you tried to hide your excitement, but karma couldn't help but notice the sparkle in your eyes.

"then... would you mind if i--" you begin to say, but karma interrupted you.

karma gently brings you in and gives you a kiss.

you sigh softly into the kiss, relieved that he reciprocated your feelings. that have indeed been actively increasing over the years.

you slowly pull away. "maybe we'll be seeing each other more often than we think." you whisper.

"i'd like that a lot, i think." karma whispers back.

you walk back with him, hand in hand, with your minds more at peace than they've ever been in the past 7 years.

notes: ahh this is so cute i love it </3 i live for these kinds of confessions they're so heartwarming!!

anyways i'm really sorry it took so long!! i was really busy this week and had a lot of stuff i needed to do for school!!

#karma #akabane karma #karma akabane #karma x reader #karma akabane x reader #akabane karma x reader #assassination classroom #ass class #screaming in the void #and the void screams back #fluff #hee hee #korosensei #i don't feel like tagging #anyways #assassination classroom x reader #ass class x reader #akabane #reader fic

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apprenticestanheight · 5 months ago

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Good News - Chainshipping

Ooooookay!! This was born of an idea I had m o n t h s ago but then I tried to write it (I feel like it's one of the chainshipping fics I have here but I can't remember) and it went in a different direction and, as I usually tend to do, I gave it as close to a happy ending as I was willing and able.

This, however? nah. I haven't cried for a serious reason (this is very serious to me!!) in a good bit so. here we have this. To the anon who sent in a req for heavy chainshipping angst, the concept of this fic was brought back around into the handy dandy mental space because of you and I hope you like it!

Title was riffed from the song Good News by Julien Baker, by which this fic is not directly inspired (I listened to it while writing this fic,, at least the start) but might have a similar vibe to.

Fic type - this is straight out angst with maybe a cathartic and kind of hopeful end?? idk but I know that it's all angst until the last scene and even then, the angst is still present there.

Warnings - mentions of drugs and drug use (morphine is mentioned once in a hospital setting and weed is mentioned a lot), addiction is referenced (both in Gabrielas case and also in Adam talking about being borderline addicted to his pain meds and his weed dependency not being a dependency but more an addiction), and this is fairly time-jumpy bc every scene takes place at a slightly different time than the last, which is clarified! The second half is probably not that great in terms of proofreading and editing, this one is hot off the press (I finished it, went to type up the authors note, and rushed to post bc I want this out of my brain) and might not be super good bc I don't doubt that I've missed a few things.

The first thing that Adam registers when he wakes up is a white-hot, raging pain that starts in his shoulder and manages to radiate down his arm til it reaches the nerve endings in his fingers. The second thing he registers is the feeling of someones hand, holding tightly onto one of his own--not the one that's in pain, thank fuck--and the sound of their breathing, somehow both quick and laboured at the same time.

The third thing he registers is a tube shoved down his throat. The second he registers that, the anxiety sets in. He forces his hand out of the grasp of the person who's holding onto it and tries to grab at the tube like his life depends on it, because for a second, he feels like it does.

"Adam," a voice whispers. He blinks his eyes open, turns in the direction of the voice, but it takes a few seconds for the image to blur into focus. "Adam--it's a breathing tube, keeping your lungs from collapsing. Relax, honey."

He stills when he realizes who it is. It's his mother, who he hasn't seen in almost a decade.

He glares at her for a second, but then he hears the resoundingly soft click! of a button, and five minutes later, a glorious-adjacent high sets in. Adam figures out as the haze takes him over that a morphine button is somewhere near his bed, is grateful for it despite the lingering confusion.

"Rest up," she says. "I'll be here until you fall asleep, okay? And I promise not to bug you after. I just heard you'd been found and I needed to see that for myself."

Adam lets sleep take him over--he's pretty much confined to his bed, and while he hates it, he knows he has no other choice, really, and the exhaustion creeps up on him before he can even register it.

A few long weeks go by, and by the time he's discharged from the hospital and complete with the necessary physical therapy to rehabilitate his arm and make sure his shoulder is working right, it's the very beginning of December.

Part of him wonders where Lawrence is--did he make it out? Was cutting his foot off worth it in the end? They're things he wonders about late at night, when the insomnia takes over and he resists the urge to climb out onto his fire escape and smoke as many joints as he can in order to sleep without fucking up his liver.

He doesn't go to therapy right out the gate, doesn't even think to do it for those first few weeks, when his doctor is checking in on him every single morning when their shift starts and every evening when it ends, when a psychiatrist comes in once every few days and tries to help him process the memories that he'd taken to vehemently avoiding.

But then, on the walk home from one of Scotts concerts, he sees an ad posting for a Jigsaw support group. It's the next day, runs from seven to nine, and the church basement it's held in is only five minutes down the road from his apartment.

He decides he'll go, part of him gunning for the mere thought of seeing Lawrence--a Jigsaw support group would be exactly the kind of place Lawrence would go after experiencing something so traumatic as the goings on of that bathroom. It's the one surefire spot Adam is betting on, but he tries to stop himself.

He doesn't know what's happened to Lawrence, not really. Lawrence hasn't reached out and Adam has made no effort to do the same for fear of rejection. He figures he could ask around at the support group, holds onto the off chance that someone there knows him or at least knows what happened, somehow.

As he gets undressed, opting to wear a pair of sweatpants and a basic black shirt, he knows that he, realistically, has no valid reason to speculate on the state of Lawrences well being, if there even is a well being upon which to speculate. If he wants to hear from Lawrence--which he does, more than anything--then he can do either of two things. He can wait for Lawrence to reach out, or he can try to do it himself.

He goes to sleep, telling himself he'll look through the phone book before he goes to work tomorrow.

Looking through the phone book doesn't yield much--it yields a number with a voicemail that hasn't been updated since the mid-nineties, at least, which is enough to make him laugh depressedly because mid-nineties Lawrence is not the Lawrence he knew, but the one that had existed about five years beforehand.

The support group meeting is, surprisingly, decent. He sits, for two hours, in a room full of people who understand what he's gone through. He shares his own story for the first time, breathes himself through the roughened edges and the sharp points that threaten to stab him in the chest when he thinks about it.

Talking about it, he realizes, is good for him, like the psychiatrist had said it might turn out to be. He goes home feeling the full weight of that day, which is something that he hates more than he hates himself, but he also feels a little vindicated.

The next two meetings go like that as well--Adam talks, warms up a bit slower than butter left on the counter to thaw after having spent many-a-week at the bottom of a large-capacity freezer.

At the end of December, the day after Christmas, it's the groups last meeting of the year and the first with a newcomer since Adam came along at the beginning of the month.

The newbie sits next to him, and he doesn't really bother to notice them, figures he'll pay more attention when they speak a little bit and focuses instead on sipping his coffee, focuses loosely on the delight he feels at the thought of the support groups carrot muffins that they bring out for people to eat at around 8:30, at which point the group kind of disperses to talk amongst themselves.

The instructor is a guy named Paul, and he's 35 and balding. He claims to be one of Jigsaws first survivors, having been tested around '99. Adam doesn't really believe it--Jigsaws first recorded victim would've been around early 2000, if a little bit later into that year, but he digresses. If someone or multiple someones want to pretend to be his victims, Jigsaw and his followers will take matters into their own hands eventually, be it in the name of revenge or some twisted kind of retribution.

He notices the newbie, and like he did when Adam was new, he singles her out in a way that she probably won't realize was him doing so until later, just like Adam had that first meeting.

"My name is Gabriela," she says. "I'm from Mexico. I came to New Jersey to get away from my life there--I couldn't take it."

The admission makes Paul smile softly, nod like he understands even though Adam knows, from his New Yorkian accent, that it's the farthest he's travelled between there and Jersey.

"And we're all here to support you through your troubles," he says. "Why were you tested?"

"I'd rather not--" Gabriela pauses. Adam looks at her, studies her, and sees a few scars lining her face. "I was cruel to him. I was part of the Pederson project and struggled with an addiction. He tested me and my friends at the beginning of October. Most of them died."

"The Pederson project?" Paul asks. "Whats that?"

"Something--" tears well up in her eyes, and Adam, on impulse, reaches a hand out and grabs hers. She looks at him then, stark brown eyes meeting his own. Adam has a thought that she looks like a deer in headlights. "I--I was desperate for money. I did what I thought I had to do, and then he made me pay the price."

"I lost someone too, I think," Adam laughs. "My trap mate. His name was Lawrence, and I can't figure out if he's alive or not. I watched him cut off his foot."

Gabriela smiles. Adam glances at Paul, briefly, and shrugs.

"Maybe she won't be as quick to open up as I was," he says. "Give her time."

Paul nods once, and their interactions end. Gabriela keeps a hold on Adams hand and Adam lets her, remembering what it was like in those first couple of weeks after--hell, he's still technically in that rough spot, but it's at least a little better than it was, even if it's still shit.

Yeah, Adam can't really take showers or baths yet, and yeah, that means he's had to use strawberry scented make up wipes to keep himself smelling not-rancid, and dry shampoo to keep his hair from being a greasy mop on his head, but it's better.

His shoulder hurts all the time, but it's not the pain he woke up with that first day. Every nightmare is worse than the last, but at least he's getting two hours of sleep a night now instead of a maximum of 30 minutes. He has to go against himself, go against his natural sense of pessimism and he has to choose optimism or he won't be able to keep going.

Optimism, taking the wins where he can, is what has kept him going for the past ten weeks. It kept him sane when he was trapped in the dark, and it's kept him sane ever since.

When the meeting ends, Gabriela stays close, which is something she's trying to be covert about but Adam notices. He doesn't let it irritate him as he gets more coffee, as he eats his carrot muffin and talks to Amanda Young, a girl who'd been in a trap only a few weeks before he had. He stays behind to help Paul and the others stack up their chairs and sweep the floor just in case, and Gabriela winds up staying.

She finally gets the nerve to talk to him about two seconds after he's left the church basement, has gone to sit in the pews that are empty of anyone. He hates churches, normally, but this one is oddly comforting when it's either nearly or totally empty. It's quiet in the same way the world is after snow has fallen, which is a quiet Adam has long appreciated.

"How do you deal with it?" she asks. She's sitting in the pew behind him, her hood tucked over her head to cover her hair. "I've been trying to since the start of October, when it happened, and I just--I don't know how."

"Well, first off, Jersey was about the worst place you could've wound up in," Adam laughs a little. "Most of his crimes take place in and around the general area of Jersey, but he's not the type to test people twice, as far as I know, so don't let my assholery get to you too much about that. Secondly, I'd probably argue I'm not much better than you. I was addicted to nicotine when I went in, and I've come out with something a bit worse for my liver and my lungs both."

It makes Gabriela laugh. "I'm at the hospital a lot for skin grafts," she says. "I got insurance, somehow, so I'm not drowning in debt, but I had to tell them I couldn't have any pain medication for after. I even thought anaesthesia was risky for some time."

"I had to call and get my medical bills reduced to a point where I could pay them off," Adam says. "I work in a bookstore now, and I have insurance from them as of the new year. It'll cover my meds, which I'm grateful for. We got some pretty short sticks in the game of life, but we didn't get the shortest ones."

"You don't seem like an optimistic person," Gabriela says. "You don't look like one, I mean."

"I'm not, usually," Adam says. "But until I hear that my trap mate is dead, I'm gonna choose to be optimistic because he would want me to be, dead or alive. Until I have proof that he's gone, I'm going to keep my optimism lined up with the idea that he's alive at the forefront of it's existence."

"What if he's not?" Gabriela asks. "What after that?"

"Then--fuck, I don't know. I become pessimistic and nihilistic, I guess? Jigsaw tests me again, maybe, if it gets that bad. I think, if he does, I'll fail on purpose that time. He'd better make damn sure that it's fucking fair that time around, though--no leaving the key to my chained up foot in the full fucking bathtub again, or I'll survive it just to spite the bastard."

Gabriela laughs again. Adam gets up and walks home, back to his sad little apartment.

He has to roll and smoke two over-the-top joints just to not spiral, conks right the fuck out at 9:45 on the dot.

It's the middle of January when Adam gets something in his mailbox. He grabs it along with the newspaper and doesn't really check the labelling on either, too caught up in the idea of checking his voicemails after remembering he has a landline that he hasn't used in five months, since he'd gotten a cheap Motorola and used that to make most of his calls.

So, he drops the mail on his kitchen counter top, grabs the landline and checks his voicemails.

The first couple are from his mother, one of which was back around when he was in the trap--sent a few days before, one he could halfheartedly remember giving a listen to before he was taken. His mother telling him his father wasn't angry anymore, like that would even begin to make up for a decades worth of anger from Adams childhood up until when he left.

It's the most recent one that gets his attention whip-quick. "Hi, Adam," it's Lawrences voice--not mid-nineties Lawrence, either. Lawrence from that day or at least a week or two after, the one Adam knows.

"I don't know if you were expecting this call, or if you'll even pay any mind to this voicemail, but I found your name in the phone book, and I heard you'd been rescued, and I just--I needed to call, okay? You don't have to understand, that's fine, but I just wanted to make sure you understood how sorry I am. I'm sorry to have left you to die like that, and I can't even begin to think about all of the ways you've been affected in the aftermath without getting anxious palpitations. I should've found a way to save you, and I'll regret not having done so for the rest of my life, okay? I just wanted to make sure you knew that I regretted it, and to make sure you understand that if I could go back and do it differently, I would do so in a millisecond without a moments hesitation."

Adam is so relieved to hear his voice that he almost cries--Lawrences voice is rough on the edges, ooey-gooey and warm at the centre, and it almost does him in completely.

"In another universe, I go ahead and visit you instead of leaving you a voicemail like a damn coward, but that's not this universe, and I'm sorry for it. You don't need to call me back, all right? I just needed to call and make sure I said my peace."

The voicemail beeps and ends and Adam hangs up the phone, fights the urge to lose his mind a little but keeps himself in check just long enough to check his mail, read the letter addressed to him.

It, shockingly, is from Alison, Lawrences wife.

I had a PI locate your address, it reads. He's in the hospital--his leg got infected and it spread like wildfire. I'd come and see him before the month was out if I were you, but if I'm being honest, I really don't think he'll make it more than another week. Come as soon as you can, to give him some peace of mind. He's staying at Saint Mercy-East, and the receptionist has been told to let you in when you come around.

Alison Baker (formerly Gordon)

Adam gives in. He lets himself cry until he can't, knows that he'll have to call into work just to see Lawrence. He has to do it. Lawrence is alive, if just barely, and he needs to see him in person one last time before the only rendition of Lawrence that he can see is a headstone.

Witnessing a person in palliative care is a lot more nerve-wracking than Adam first expects. Lawrence is barely awake, occasionally shifting in his hospital bed, and his skin looks grey and sullen. His breathing is laboured and a little loud, and when Adam looks at him, he feels himself cracking just a little. Adams heart breaks as he sits in the plastic chair to Lawrences left, grabs his hand and holds onto it as tightly as he thinks he can handle without breaking down.

"Hey," he whispers. "I just wanted to come down--Allison told me where you were staying, what had happened with your leg, and I figured I'd come and see you for at least half an hour."

Lawrence stills.

"I'm just gonna talk for a bit, okay?" Adam laughs at himself. "I've never done anything like this before, so I don't really know what to do."

Lawrence looks at him. His blue eyes are dull and gray and so sorrowful that it damn near kills Adam from the inside out. He realizes that Lawrence probably knows he's not got long left, if his infection has left him that lucid. Lawrence Gordon, someone who used to be sarcastic and quippy and so full of life, Adam heartbreakingly realizes, very likely knows he's dying.

"You seemed to want me to be okay in the voicemail you left," Adam says. "I just--I want you to know that I am. I'm on meds because of chronic shoulder pain and I deal with my earned amount of PTSD stuff, but I'm okay. I work in that cute little bookstore across the way from the Aldi near the heart of the city, the one that looks real small on the outside but inside is actually kind of huge? It's called Romeros, and I've got insurance and PTO and all of that shit."

Lawrence smiles gently. Adam keeps going.

"I take photos of stray cats pretty much exclusively now," he says. "And I go to a support group to help me deal with the PTSD stuff. If you've been worried, you don't need to be anymore. I'm on the path to learning how to be okay, and it was just really important to me for you to know that. I don't want to lose you when it feels like I've just gotten you back, but this is probably gonna be the only time I visit. I love you, dude."

Adam squeezes Lawrences hand just a bit tighter.

He stays with Lawrence from the beginning of visiting hours til Lawrences heart gives out near their end. Adam watches, in a panic, as the doctors go about protocol for a DNR.

In the end, Adam is still in the room when a nurse says the unthinkable.

"Time of death: 18:04 PM, January 15th."

And then, just like that, Adam has to face a reality he's spent the last several months not wanting to confront, hating the very idea of.

Lawrence Gordon is dead. He's gone, and there's nothing Adam can do about it.

Adam can't pull himself together enough to go to the funeral. He receives an invite in the mail initially, then a copy of Lawrences obituary and the address to where he's been buried a few weeks later.

Grief, he finds, is an ugly little thing. It makes him a bit more dependent on the weed than normal, closes him off at the support group and makes him volatile on his worst nights because he hates it. He hates that he has to grieve at all, really.

Lawrence had managed to survive that bathroom. He'd mustered up the strength to cut his own foot off, and God repaid him with an infection of what remained of that leg spreading through his body and killing him? He'd survived cutting off his own foot just to die four months later? That feels like bullshit to Adam, and he hates it.

Eventually, when the anger isn't all consuming, he leaves his apartment. He stops and buys a few flowers from a convenience store, and then he goes and visits Lawrences grave.

LAWRENCE GORDON

LOVING HUSBAND, FATHER, AND SON

He sets the flowers down, reads the lettering engraved on the stone.

"I've been dealing with a lot since you passed," Adam says. He sits down in front of the head stone, careful in the motions. He runs his hands over a newly buzzed head, the hair having grown out past it's due and the cheapest option having been to take a pair of clippers to it instead of getting it cut. "Uh--I just kind of wanted to stop by for a second. I don't know if I'll ever do this again, but I kind of thought I owed it to you a little bit."

Jersey is riding out the coattails of winter now, the grass dotted with snow, but Adam doesn't really care. It's sunny out and there's an icy breeze to go with it, but it's a nice day, everything else considered.

"I've been closed off from it all--I hate thinking about you right now because your death feels like bullshit," Adam laughs. "You survived everything from that day, just as well as I did, and yet you're dead from an infection in your stump that'd radiated through the rest of your body before you could stop it, and I'm still alive. You're dead and in the ground and I'm alive and borderline addicted to the pain meds I use for my shoulder and so dependent on weed that it's long teetered past a dependency. It feels unfair."

If anyone, Lawrence should be the one who got to stay alive.

"Up until you died, after the support group was done, I'd leave the church basement and go into the church itself. I'd always sit in an empty pew and just watch," he says. "They had a candle vigil at the front, and sometimes survivors who'd gone to the support group would light candles for their trap mates who hadn't made it. I have a friend, Gabriela, who lights candles after every meeting. She whispers their names, too. Valentina. Mateo. She even lights one for the only other not-jackass survivor, named Diego."

He feels really dumb. Like--the dumbest he's ever felt dumb, but he just keeps talking.

"I don't know if I'll ever do it, but I think someday I might. Alison hates you, even though she was kind to you in your last days, and both of your parents are gone, so it kind of feels like I'm the only person who knew you that can remember you without feeling disdain. If I light one of those stupid little tea candles, you'd better show me a fuckin' sign, even though I don't believe in that shit. I love you, Lawrence, but I'm not going to risk burning my finger on a Dollar Tree match if you don't make it worth it."

He laughs at himself, shakes his head. "I'm going to go to a meeting," he says as he gets up. "Maybe open up a little bit. Have fun doing whatever it is your doing on the other side of this God awful, relentless mortal coil."

Adam doesn't open up in support group that day--the wounds are still too fresh to bear, and he doesn't think he'll be able to talk about Lawrence for another very long while, but at least he admits it to himself.

He follows Gabriela to the vigil that night, though. She has an arm around his waist, holds onto him like she's scared he's going to fall apart. He's a bit scared of falling apart, too, if he's honest, so he just lets her.

She lights a match, goes about lighting the candles one by one. Valentina. Mateo. Diego.

She blows the match out, passes Adam the matchbox.

He takes it, strikes the match alight with the sandpaper on the side, and picks the candle closest to his right.

"Lawrence," he says gently as he lights it.

It doesn't feel like closure--not exactly, anyway--and he's sure nothing ever will. He knows that he'll feel pain every time he thinks of Lawrence for the next while, at least, but he has to learn to be okay with that or the pain will never go away.

That match, that candle? He knows they're just the first steps and that he has a long way to go, but he's fine with that. His grief and everything that's come of it can take as long as they need, he decides. He'll give himself a little bit of grace and allow at least that.

#adam stanheight #adam faulkner-stanheight #adam stanheight x lawrence gordon #lawrence gordon #chainshipping #saw (2004)#saw 2004 #saw posting #sawposting

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mrhaitch · 4 months ago

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It’s interesting that your tumblr description/bio as well as your wife’s words towards you, show that you are sensitive. The way you type is very formal and it almost seems like your emotional sensitivity is veiled under your serious tone (Haitch herself seems to have a much more outwardly bubbly and giggly persona). If you want to, can you elaborate on the nature of your emotional sensitivity? I’m very curious about how you feel the world and what your thoughts are on humanity, as well as what you think defines emotional sensitivity. I do currently believe that many of the best people in the world are sensitive and introspective, and of course “best” is subjective, but ykwim.

Hm - that's a lot to unpack.

The formal tone you've identified is something between a deliberate and a necessary choice - I'm a big believer in clarity, with all things, so I write in a style that's aimed at getting my point across with as little loss of meaning and intent as I can manage.

Sensitivity is a tricky subject, especially when it comes to male emotional sensitivity - as it's not typically encouraged, and is more typically subject to criticism and ridicule.

I'll speak to my own experiences and how I see things - rather than get lost in unhelpful generalisations. Where and when I grew up in England, there were a lot of conflicting expectations towards young boys: be gentle, be forgiving, be kind, but also be tough, robust, assertive. The old and the new slamming together creating these kind of Frankenstein personalities in a lot of the boys I grew up with: capable of switching from one extreme to the other, and feeling nothing but a kind of fragile vulnerability because of it. Vulnerability isn't particularly encouraged for boys, so it leaves them feeling like they need to go on the attack: they become aggressive, vengeful, sometimes paranoid.

This is something I've struggled with myself, pretty much my whole life. From the outside, asking men to be strong and kind might seem like a natural fit - two pieces that fit well together - but in the cultural language I grew up in these are two fundamentally opposed things: a protector is violent, distant, assertive and kindness is peaceful, close, and submissive. You can recognise that's, rationally speaking, nonsense but our respective cultural languages are persistent and powerful and sometimes near impossible to remove.

As such my 'sensitivity' is hard won. I think I referenced a Brother Ali lyric a while back along the lines of 'you can face your devils and slay them, but if you've grown harder by days end then they won't which gets the point across. I'd also say Patrick Ness' Chaos Walking trilogy articulates the point perfectly: male sensitivity and emotional availability is a political act. It's an act of resistance towards a culture that wants you to perpetuate extant cycles of abuse and violence, to pick up the master's tools.

As for the rest: my fundamental belief is that everyone is trying to do the best they can with what they have. Some people don't have a lot to start with, and other people have mistaken ideas about what the right thing to do is - but everyone is trying to be the 'good guy', if you want to be plain about it. I find accepting that helps me understand a great deal, especially when dealing with gigantic, seemingly irredeemable bastards.

#mr.haitch #mr haitch #mrhaitch #pseudowho #mrhaitch answers you too

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mischiefandmedicine · 10 months ago

Text

Very Full - Chapter 1: Confrontation at the End of Time

Summary: At the end of time, Loki, guardian of the multiverse, is confronted by Saoirse, his daughter, who seeks answers and retribution for her mother's absence. Their tense encounter reveals a deep well of shared pain and unspoken history, hinting at sacrifices made for greater purposes. Overwhelmed by the truth, Saoirse's anger gives way to a vulnerable quest for understanding as Loki prepares to unveil their story.

Word Count: 2,372 words.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, a hint of someone having died.

A/N: Bear with me as I get used to how I want to lay everything out. This is my first fan-fiction and I loved this story idea. I have a Spotify playlist that acts like a soundtrack for this entire story. For each posted chapter, I'll share a link to songs that I listened to and/or were referenced in each chapter. Enjoy!

Soundtrack Link

This Chapter's Inspirational Music: Can't Fight the Moonlight

---

Previous: Prologue

___

Chapter 1 - Confrontation at the End of Time

In the vast expanse at the end of time, where timelines converged, and infinite possibilities shimmered like echoes of forgotten moments, Loki sat upon a grand throne of his own making. The luminous emerald-colored threads of the multiverse danced around him, woven together in a breathtaking display reminiscent of Yggdrasil, the world tree, all with Loki as the powerful epicenter. His gaze, usually calm and all-seeing, rested upon the glowing strands that danced around him.

The weight of his existence bore heavily into him. Loki was not the ruler of a once-proud Asgard floating among the stars. He was not the ruler of the nine realms. He had not replaced Odin as king. He was no longer the god of mischief. He was something else and now he sat on his gilded throne, countless timelines in his grasp. They all breathed because of him…because of his sacrifice.

A subtle longing tugged at the edge of his consciousness, a wistful yearning for connections that once illuminated the recesses of his solitary existence. Memories of love, both found and lost, dance like wisps in the cosmic winds, leaving a lingering ache in the depths of his being. Thoughts of Sylvie, Mobius, and other intriguing friends he had left behind, hovered over him like distant constellations across the sky at the end of time – remnants of bonds forged amidst the tumultuous symphony of his life. Their faces were etched in the mosaic of his recollections, evoking a bittersweet blend of camaraderie and longing.

This was his burden to bear and his alone. For all time.

Loki had carried the weight of his loneliness letting the time pass ensuring the timelines were stable just long enough to give the Time Variance Authority time to achieve what it needed to. But there was no expiration date on these duties. He would remain, lost amongst the emerald-glowing strands, for as long as the multiverse needed him.

As he contemplated the harmonious chaos before him, a sudden disruption jolted the tranquility. In the distance, Loki could make out a figure, cloaked in shadow and mystery, appearing at the gangway leading to his throne. The hooded silhouette emerged, standing resolute, yet shrouded in obscurity. A voice, tinged with a mix of determination and haunting familiarity, echoed across the boundless emptiness.

“I am Saoirse of Midgard,” the figure proclaimed, their voice carrying an all-too-familiar power and rage, “and I am here to avenge my mother…and myself.” These words held a cadence that mirrored Loki’s own epithets as he had arrived on Earth to claim the Tesseract. This unexpected arrival, however, resonated with its own sense of purpose and determination.

The former god of mischief, with his piercing gaze that twisted with intrigue and an inkling of recognition, looked upon the cloaked figure stoically. He did not speak but watched the figure through narrowed eyes as its form remained obscured by the depths of its cloak. For a moment, the silence between them seemed to echo across the infinite expanse that was the end of time.

Loki, ever the master of words and wit, parted his lips to respond, but the charged atmosphere lingered, pregnant with the reticent turmoil of their intertwined destinies. The impassioned plea reverberated in his ears, a fervent cry seeking recognition from the god perched on the throne.

In the cavernous expanse where time’s echoes converged, Saoirse’s impatience and rage swirled like tempestuous winds in the silence. The lack of response from Loki ignited a fierce blaze within her, stoking the flames of indignation and uncertainty. Her resolve wavered not; instead, it solidified into an unyielding determination as she flung off her cloak, long black wavy hair draped around her shoulders, held out of her face by a single, solid gold headband.

“Say something, asshole!” Her voice was laden with raw fury and pain as it boomed across the celestial chasm, punctuating the vast emptiness with a desperate plea. The powers she wielded came with the vocal projection, a manifestation of the strength it took to find Loki and bring herself here to the end of time. Loki himself remained quiet, his gaze unwavering, veiled behind a mask of inscrutable calm, yet he scrunched his nose playfully at the sound of the insult thrown at him.

In a moment that shattered the stillness and infinite space between them, a manifestation hurtled through the expanse. Down on the gangway where Saoirse stood, a projection materialized – a mirrored image of Loki – crafted from the essence of his cosmic presence. This apparition mirrored his countenance and mannerisms, a visage brought forth from the depths of his consciousness to address Saoirse’s impassioned call.

Though Loki, in his corporeal form, remained perched on his sparkling throne, he maintained an air of whimsical defiance, an enigmatic smile splayed across his lips. His silence, a calculated choice, teased at the depths of his cosmic power and the intrigue that coursed through his perplexing persona.

“Asshole? Really, Saoirse?” the projected image of Loki intoned, his voice a melodic blend of playfulness and veiled confrontation. “Impatience does not suit you…daughter.”

Saoirse’s furious gaze met the illusionary Loki’s, her eyes widening in a cocktail of shock, disbelief, and a glimmer of recognition. The word “daughter” hung heavily in the air as the various glowing emerald strands of timelines floated past the pair.

“Don’t you dare call me that!” she shouted past the projection towards the corporeal Loki seated on the throne.

The Loki projection maintained a serene yet arrogant countenance about him amidst the brewing storm. “You seek me out, yet deny what you might be,” he teased, the gleam in his eyes hinting at a cryptic knowledge.

Frustration etched deeply into Saoirse’s features as she seethed with unresolved emotions. She stood nearly as tall as her father, so she could stare his projection down, eye to eye, reflecting the pain that tore into her as she searched for some semblance of regret in his eyes. “I came here for answers, not games!” she shouted angrily, voice quivering with a potent mix of longing and resentment.

“Answers?” the projection raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to one side before continuing. “But do you truly desire them, or are you merely seeking a mirror to reflect your anger?”

Her patience waning, Saoirse’s anger surged forth, fueled by years of the void that her mother’s absence had created. “I want to know why you left her! Why you abandoned us?!” Her voice cracked with the anguished accusation, the tremor betraying the depth of her emotional turmoil.

The projection of Loki regarded her with an eerie calm. “Blaming me won’t bring her back,” he countered, his voice nearly at a whisper.

“Your actions, rather, the lack thereof…they led to her death!” Saoirse fought back tears as she fought through the words she had come all this way to say. “In all your infinite power, how could you just let her die like that?!”

Loki remained speechless, unable to find the words to quiet his daughter as she stood before him, long black hair flowing down her back, framing her face. She was, no doubt, his daughter. The anguish and pent-up rage that surged from within were caused by a father who had seemingly all but cast her aside. As he studied Saoirse’s face, Loki could not help but think that she bore a striking resemblance to her mother; the thought of whom pulled the playful smirk from his face, softening his gaze.

He thought of the movie reel Mobius had shown him of what would become of his own life had he continued along the sacred timeline. All the lives he had destroyed and the Loki he had been when trying to take New York as his own. He did not want that life for his daughter but could not possibly tell her of all he had sacrificed for the sake of the greatness that she could become. He had changed from the angry tyrant demanding his subjects kneel before him. He was something else now that he had taken on the responsibility of keeping the timelines alive.

Saoirse’s anger broke Loki from his thoughts as she materialized a pair of long, thin bronzed blades in her hands in a flash of purple light. “Give me answers, Loki, or I will take them by force!”

As she wielded her blades, her eyes flashing with determination, the tension between them escalated once again. Her blades crackled with energy, eyes reflecting a storm of emotions surging within her. The projection of Loki observed her with a blend of intrigue and caution, a veil of godly poise masking the concealed complexity of his intentions as a smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. Pride surged within Loki, a silent acknowledgment of his daughter’s innate strength and proficiency in the mystical arts. But with that sense of pride came a father’s pained recognition of her anguish.

“Saoirse,” Loki began, his voice soft and arms outstretched as if attempting to calm a lion ready to pounce upon its prey. He sought to bridge the chasm between them. “I understand your anger, your pain. But there are truths that remain buried within the complexities of duty and sacrifice.”

“You had a duty to her! To me!” She yelled. “What about that?”

Loki paused, gathering his thoughts amidst the tumult of emotions. His posture sank as he thought of the words that would calm the daughter standing before him ready to take his head off with the gorgeous blades she had conjured for herself. That is, if it were his corporeal self standing before her.

“You wield your powers with the grace and strength of Asgardian lineage, your grandparents would be so proud,” Loki intoned. Sensing that Saoirse was rightfully losing the limited patience that she had brought with her to the end of time, he continued, “Your mother lives within you.”

“Oh, yawn!” she said, rolling her eyes. “Next, you’re going to tell me that I remind you of her and that I should be satisfied with that. None of that changes that she’s gone and it’s all your fault!”

“Daughter,” Loki’s voice held a gentle plea, tinged with regret and a profound longing to ease her pain. “Your mother’s absence is a wound that cuts deeply, a void that cannot be easily filled.”

He paused, the weight of her accusation heavy upon him. “I cannot erase the pain of your loss, nor absolve myself of the burden that my duties thrust upon us.”

Saoirse’s face pinched into a scowl upon hearing Loki’s words. His expression softened, a paternal yearning beneath a mask of composure. He was, after all, a god with a purpose. “I do not expect you to find solace in vague resemblances or platitudes. Your anguish is valid and your anger justified.”

Loki’s projection, an echo of his essence, bore the weight of remorse as it showed on his face. “I sought to protect what remains of our fractured existence, sacrificing what I held dear. But it was not a choice I made lightly, nor one I made without sorrow.”

A quiet desperation colored his voice, looking at Saoirse with a depth of sorrow mirrored in his eyes. “Know that you are not alone in your pain. I may not have all the answers, but I am here, Saoirse.”

With the sound of her name falling from Loki’s lips, Saoirse collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face as the blades she once wielded clanged to the gangway floor. The Loki apparition knelt to look his daughter in the eyes, tears forming in his own eyes as he watched her sob. “Tell me, daughter, what do you know of your mother and me?”

Saoirse took a moment to gather her words before snarling back at Loki, “All I know that she loved you more than anything but neither she nor I were enough for you to stick around.”

Loki’s face fell. “She didn’t tell you anything about us?”

“She didn’t have to, Loki. I learned enough from everyone else around me. Loki of Asgard who was burdened with glorious purpose. Loki who rained chaos upon New York. Loki who disappeared with the Tesseract! Am I getting every detail?!” she inched closer to his projection, fire and rage growing within as she continued. “Loki who reappeared years later to con my mother into sleeping with him only for him to disappear when she needed him the most. What good is all this power if you could not use it to save or even be with the one woman who was supposed to be everything to you?”

Each and every one of Saoirse’s words stung Loki as she shouted them into the endless void. The Loki projection spun on his heels as if to look up at the corporeal Loki who sat upon the throne, infinite timelines in hand, disappearing with a neon green glow. God Loki looked down upon his daughter, tears forming in his eyes. He longed to comfort his daughter, his flesh and blood.

In a flash of lightning, god Loki used nearly every ounce of magic within him to wrap himself in a tapestry woven together with the strands of time, carrying himself down to the gangway in labored steps until he reached his daughter. Loki, god of the throne at the end of time, keeper of the timelines took Saoirse’s hand, gesturing for her to stand. As she rose, Loki whispered with a single tear falling, “My dear daughter, you don’t know anything.”

“What don’t I know, Loki?” Saoirse sneered through gritted teeth.

Loki removed his crown and gestured to a pair of velvet green armchairs he had conjured behind her. “This is going to be a long one. Shall I pour us some tea?”

“Keep it, I need something stronger than tea,”Saoirse scoffed at the offer.

Saoirse turned to take a seat as Loki wordlessly gestured towards the chairs once more. “Oh, this ought to be good.”

“I do hear they call me the god of stories on some of the timelines,” Loki said with a smirk to lighten the mood. “This story – the story of your mother and me – it is the best one of all.”

#loki #loki series #loki laufeyson #loki season 2 #loki mcu #loki fanfic #loki fanfction #loki imagine

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gingerylangylang1979 · 1 year ago

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Sick people are still sick, even if it's addiction or mental illness. We know that but we still don't think and act that way.

I've been wanting to post this for awhile but held back because it's a difficult topic but today I discovered some saddening news that made me feel it was time to talk about it. I'm not going to speak directly to that news or to any of the other situations I'm referencing. You can figure it out if you want but really it doesn't matter who the people are because the people can be anybody.

I'll start by saying I'm the child of a drug addict, my ex-boyfriend was an alcoholic, I've had many friends who have battled addiction and mental health issues. I was deeply hurt by growing up with an addict mother. It is the single most defining thing about me next to being a black woman. I am in my 40's and still grappling with the effects of growing up with her beside me and growing up with her absent from me. The abandonment, isolation, shame, uncertainty, fear, feelings of being cursed, never having normality, all of that will never leave me. All I can do is cope. And I experienced it all over again within a long term relationship in adulthood.

It's probably best that I was estranged from my mother. I know it's best that I left my ex for the last time. I didn't want those people in my live as they were and there was never any way to know if they would ever get better. My mother died. Not a drug related death, ironically she was killed by a drunk driver. Someone else's addiction took her. My ex is still living and the last I knew he was still drinking. A miracle could happen or he could drink the rest of his life.

But what I want to talk about is how we view these ill people. I hated my mother and my ex for a long, long time... until I didn't. That doesn't mean I'm not still angry or no longer hold them accountable. It just means I don't view them simply as my abusers and myself as their victim. It just means I had a shift, not only in how I see them but how I view all people. I had a religious/spiritual conversion at one of the darkest times of my life. Looking back I see that it happened shortly after I left my ex the last time and I was at a sort of rock bottom on every level. I won't go into the long story but will say I came out of the other side loving people. Not in a toxic positivity way, in a genuinely I value people and humanity was put here out of love, made with love, and we all deserve dignity and forgiveness, and can be redeemed no matter what. My whole worldview was rocked. It's a truly radical belief of my faith. Not the supernatural things. I think this because what the average person struggles with the most is just pure love for other people and love for themselves.

And when you view people with love, value life itself, all life, that you can look at a person who doesn't value their own well being and puts the well being of others, even those closest to them, in danger, and still say that person is a child of God who can be redeemed, who is not trash, who is not a loser.

And the funny thing is supposedly we are in a mental health awakening and supposedly see addiction and mental health ailments as sickness. But we still have a hard time accepting that when people are in the worst of their illness that they are indeed sick people. So we label, dismiss, and ridicule them. And if they are a celebrity, forget about it. We want to champion wellness, self care, and therapy but when someone actually desperately needs it and is struggling we shit on them.

I'm in no way saying all behavior is forgiven and there shouldn't be accountability. But after seeing some of what I've seen said recently and especially today it seems like people are just ready to tear someone's complete being down, not just condemn the behavior. I don't think my mom nor my ex were trash. They were deeply broken as we all are, in ways different from myself, or perhaps not and it just manifests in ways different than myself. It still hurts, it always hurts, but they were always hurting, too. It doesn't mean I needed to stay in a place they could hurt me but I didn't degrade their being in thought, speech, or action.

So these people don't deserve to have victims but they also don't deserve to be dehumanized.

We are all worthy of grace. So I'm going to continue to pray for healing of myself and those I know who are struggling.

#addiction #mental illness #grace #redemption #faith #god saves

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the-6th-harbringer · 11 months ago

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PLEASE READ

Hey. So. It's been a. while.

trigger warning: referenced suicide

So, if you haven't noticed, I literally evaporated for two weeks straight without any clarification on why or sign of actually being alive, unlike my last two week disappearance. Unfortunately, this unexpected evaporation does not come with a big "ooh more trauma more lore and angst for scara" thing.

This just happens to be my goodbye post.

I know, it's weird and kind of rude for me to dip for two weeks and then reappear like "hey fuckers im QUITTING hAHaA". Buuuut not only was my dad being annoying and hogging my laptop, I also barely have had time to myself for the past weeks. New family members have been introduced into my life, so now I have double the amount of little siblings to look after. (from 3 to 6. dont ask "how" thats a personal thing). juggling that with school, social stuff, fucking exams which are coming up in 3 months of my gOD, and other even more personal demons that I've been battling, its been. a lot.

SO, to make sure I do not pull the same move as Scaramouche did on the last day of his sakurarealm torture(iykyk), I'm taking a leave from tumblr. Don't know how long I'll be gone, don't know if I'll ever be back, but I didn't just wanna quit without at least telling you guys so you don't think I've been murdered or something.

On a more serious note, thank you all for all of the support and love you've given Scara and all my other blogs. While some of you are a handful, the majority of you are actually the sweetest and silliest community of people I've ever known. I hope you all have excellent lives.

Now, as for what happens to Scara, we're shoving him in another coma. which is entirely at the mercy of Wanderer's mod, because they're my friend outside of tumblr too and i trust that they'll use this as a major angst moment. Put an F for Cyrille and Scara guys

NOW: a few honorable mentions and thank yous:

@wandering-hat-guy : im not writing a goodbye type thing for you because i will literally talk to you tomorrow, but thank you for being an awesome brother-sibling figure. you are the wanderer to my scara :]

@an-active-rabbit : Thank you for being an extremely fun person to rp with. The puppets and the heart is a rp that wont leave my mind for a while yet. Many hugs for you! And I wont be forgetting Mikaven anytime soon >:3

@cyrille-leclair-de-fontaine : AUGH budddyyy im sorry to do this to you. But thank you for creating Cyrille in the first place. Cyscara my beloveds, they will always hold a place in my heart. Maybe one day they'll actually get somewhere. Im also willing to be your friend outside of tumblr if you wish because you're cool >:D

@dishonxsty : For also being a goofy little goober. My favorite rp with you was definitely the ouppy's and scara, and also kudos to you for making like 17 bajillion blogs and being able to manage them all at once somehow like???? go king go

Annnd @monsieur-neuvillette , who seems random because I havent rped with them in literally a century, but thank you for being the one to indirectly help me get over my fears of starting a rp blog AND being the inspo for me to start rping on tumblr in the first place. hugs for you too

Well, alls said that's been said, so I think I'll just end it off here, because it's been like 10 minutes since I started typing this and I am eepy.

Goodbye everyone except wandermod, and thank you for sticking with me through Scara's really out of pocket journey.

(PS: Rest in peace @the-tainted-blossom . I miss you everyday.)

#scara kinnie moment #i should probs reblog this to my other blogs acctually #yeah lemme do that

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your--isgayrights · 5 months ago

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Outside of Lee Seolhwa and Lee Sookyung, do you have plans for any other character outside of Kim Dokja’s primary companions (like Gong Pildu or Han Doonghoon) for your soulmate fanfiction? Constellations like Persephone or Uriel or Sun Wukong probably wouldn’t make sense to exist in real life but maybe characters such as Han Myungoh/Han Dareum or Jang Hayoung could fit? If I recall correctly, Jang Hayoung in particular is the one responsible for the title of the fanfiction, right? I feel like she alongside the Unidentifiable Wall and the Fourth Wall would be so thematically appropriate but I couldn’t imagine how you would do it if at all. I also want to say that I’m impressed how you managed to seamlessly incorporate so many references to the original ORV into your work. It must have required you to reread and recheck the wiki.

Yess, I'm glad you asked this anon bc literally I just threw in a little reference to Han Doonghoon and Lee Sungkook in the 4.4 update and got worried people would think they had to remember the characters well to understand the surrounding plot point better than Kim Dokja does. But I think I should trust the reader a bit more lol.

Unfortunately my inclusion of Aileen and Jang Hayoung isn't going to be as big as the other kdjco members, but they're sort of already set up in the fic and have a role in chap 5. I think JHY doesn't appear directly bc to me the relationship between her and KDJ is harder to make 'real,' though I have some ideas depending on how much I decide to include in chap 5. In my plans 5 will have a gaming tourney featured, so other big 'wos players' may be referenced further there as well.

Of course like you mention the fic title and many of the chapter titles are coming directly from the mouth of Jang Hayoung, so in that way she is constantly being referenced, haha.

Han Myungoh and his daughter are referenced earlier in Chapter 4. It's sort of a drive by.

I do make use of the wiki (bless the editorsn🙏), though mostly just to check dates, numbers, and spellings of names. I like to think of myself as someone with a pretty decent memory tho, so a lot of the more specific story references are definitely just me pulling in stuff I remember from my novel read throughs. Like I might have to look at the wiki to remember Han Dareum's name, but I'll never forget Han Myungoh's entire Male Pregnancy that he had like that was a crazy random W to me on my first ORV read through I was like hello??? Also that being around when JHY was being confirmed trans haha. I think I was only out for like a year or so before reading orv so the little gender fucky moments really stuck out to me.

Sometimes rereading my old work I also remember things I forgot happened in ORV. I think part of the reason I'm struggling so much with chap 4 and onward is that now that the wall fic characters have sort of developed to where they are some of the scenes I had in mind are less 1 to 1 with the OG. For instance, I'm trying to rewrite a scene I have of YJH and KDJ having a rooftop chat that like parallels the one back before the seoul's strongest incarnation arc in the novel, but it's a bit difficult. At first I wanted to include a lot more of KDJ interacting with the rest of YJH's team, but the rooftop Scene makes more sense to put a cap on the themes explored in chap 4. But when I first wrote this scene it was less specifically addressing that theme, because it was in the outline of like right after I wrote chapter 1, so it was kind of just the OG ORV scene with the flavoring of my AU on top. A lot of the little things they do and say in the OG novel would have to be quite finagled to fit anymore, so reworking it is the big task rn.

Anyway I'm really appreciative of people like you who take note of these small details <3. it's kind of helping me remember and appreciate a lot of the parts of me that were behind a lot of Wall fic originally if that makes sense? I am like reintroducing myself to him and giving him a hug instead of running away cringing just because it's me lol.

#in games like 'thats not my neighbor' im able to memorize things about 'people'/characters maybe a bit easier than others?#like i dont have to check the ID numbers after a few rounds because i can just associate that with a face #so its sort of the same with novel characters #when i think of them its easy to remember their significant moments because i tend to picture them especially in my mind. so when the name #comes up i think of the imagined faces i had for them in the scenes they were in you know #which is why its easy to write all the little one on one sort of dialoguey scenes i do that reference the little details about those scenes #anyway i am rambling rn and maybe giving too much away? im about to go into a therapy session and hoping to plan out my week #so that i feel less stressed about packing but yesterday i had a cry sesh and orv reread that is making me want to write today #but the therapist might discourage me from that? we will see if much gets done i guess #im hoping she'll let me just turn the session into a packing schedule meeting #personal #ask #anonymous

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aceiined · 5 months ago

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introduction !! (finally)

last updated: 8/17/24

(OTHER ACCOUNT: MUTHAFUCKINARO!!)

hello!! im ace, though i also prefer cass, mercury, mer, accio, AMG2, aceline, or in some cases, ace mcfartpants

✓ | i LOVEE mario, SMG4, kirby, undertale, omori, gacha, drawing, painting, music, crochet, theater, war and countries, clothing design, interior design, digital art, TADC, dougdoug, space, bee and puppycat, and way more you should ask me about!! (if, that wasn't enough already)

✕ | i HATTEEEEEEEEE cheese, weird textures, loud noises, uncomfortable situations, slurs, art block, and cleaning

DNI'S:

bigots, sex blogs, pedophiles/zoophiles, racists, sexists, proshippers, anti-lgbtq, ect (the basic dni critera)

also, if you shit on furries, therians, religions, hypersexuality, disabilities, or artstyles, dni please!

art commissions (currently in this case, free)

Yes, you heard that right !! im opening up commissions! i do all art for free in general, probably in this case because i dont need money, but also to have fun and see other peoples designs on ocs/creations. my ask box is open, send me a character and i'll draw it! i have pictures of drawings i do (without reference, currently practicing to not practice) (?) i do have boundaries as listed below--

do's:

sfw

mild blood

partially suggestive (will discuss more)

full body

partial body

furries

non-human

characters and or OC's

interior house art/any interior

ship/selfships

digital and traditional

animals/quad legged

DONT'S:

very/heavily suggestive (again, will discuss more)

full on gore

pedophilia or zoophilia

proshipping

body bases (tracing reasons)

any general thing that a normal artist wouldnt accept in a sfw style.

talking about suggestive art, i allow requests as such:

flirting/teasing

MILD touching. (as, hand resting on thigh, head, cheek, waist, ect)

other sfw, yet still suggestive things, keeping it at a minimum. though i understand what suggestive means, i want to keep it safe for viewers.

for nsfw in general, heavily suggestive--

i cannot draw whatever kinky shit ya got in your head. yes, i want to make people happy-- but i dont want to flat out make myself uncomfortable.

i will not allow:

nude/exposing bodies

pornographic material in general implied

actual intercourse

heavy text (cursing, mumbling sexual noises, ect)

please respect this, and have fun requesting! go all out and dm/send an ask, i wont guarantee to respond right away, but i will try to keep responses consistent! i do add watermarks still :) (no stealing.. grrrrrrrrr)

tags i use:

#ace rambles - me rambling about something

#acesaves - things i wanna save for future!! :D

#smg4 rambling - i think this should explain itself if you've seen my profile

#just needed to get out of system - angry venting

#ace needs to shit - weird shitting jokes i make because poop funny

#aces commissions - drawing commissions i made

#gamer ace !! - a game im playing/referencing

#ace and funni friends - my silly friends (mostly irls)

#acemisc - miscellaneous stuff that shouldnt belong in this world

#aceship - selfshipping (drawing wise)

#aces public dairy diary - not always vents, but stuff on my mind

#heavy vents - crazy stuff happening in my life

#cool sketches - cool sketches out of my handy dandy wandy notebook

nicknames/names for peeps i know:

@moonysfavoritetoast - evan/cosmo (he/they, they/them)

@meerealsssss - mee (she/her)

@the-rizzly-bear - will (he/him)

@homoashell - starr (she/her)

@37x3 sparky (they/he)

riss - my kewl sister (she/her)

artheno - kewl sisters boyfriend who i hate (not really, hes cool) (he/they)

father - my science teacher!! who!! adopted me!! (he/him)

father 2 - actual father and uh hes bad father.. (he/him)

mother - actual mother who is kewl and i love (she/her)

layz - kewl gay friend (they/them)

wife pt 2 - me, evans, and mee's wife (she/they)

seven - oc (she/him)

waterwelon - fursona (he/it/fae)

if you want your tag added or removed, please dm me <3

also please be my mootOKAY THATS ENOUGJ OF MY INTRO.'

#aces intro #cass's intro #smg4 #intro #introduction #silly willies #uh sorry this took so long lmao i kept procrastinating and im too lazy to write a whole ass intro explaining myself when you can just look #on uh my profile and immediately expect straightfoward chaos from me #the end!!

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sincerely-sofie · 7 months ago

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reading the tags about rue in that one ask about ruby's siblings and WOW

i'm gonna need a long time to just stare at the wall and process it all because. there's so much truth in that. so much truth that it's just. i really have no words to explain (except for genuinely thank you for that even if you were just talking about a character)

hope you get well soon too! stay hydrated get some rest and drink warm soup if that's your thing!

(referencing this post)

I'm so glad that those tags were able to be meaningful to you! My ultimate goal with everything I create is to help someone with it somehow, so each time something I've made / done / said has a positive effect is incredible— it's my life's mission, after all. So thank you very much for this ask and letting me know those tags had a good impact!

And thank you for your well-wishes as well, I'll remember to look after myself :>

#sofie answers asks

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samasmith23 · 1 year ago

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One of my favorite Spider-Man: Clone Saga stories has always been the 4-part "The Exile Returns" arc, which not only features Ben Reilly's debut as the Scarlet Spider, but also Benjy's first major victory as a superhero since returning to New York after 5-years when he singlehandedly defeats Venom in mortal combat. What made the fight between Ben and Venom so epic was that the story was actually a response to a previous story in Amazing Spider-Man (1963) #375, which had Peter Parker make a deal with Venom to stay out of each other's way. The reason that was done was because Marvel wanted to turn Venom into an anti-hero during the 90s, but a lot of fans and creators were really pissed off about that story, since they felt that Peter making a pact with Venom betrayed the character's sense of responsibility. And this frustration was openly expressed in The Exile Returns, with Ben Reilly being incredibly shocked that Peter would have done such a thing, basically declaring to himself, "If Peter's not going to accept responsibility and bring Venom to justice, I'll have to step in and do it myself!"

Spider-Man group editor Glenn Greenberg even commented on the writers of The Exile Returns deliberately referencing ASM #375 in the 36-part online essay, "The Life of Reilly," which extensively covers all the behind-the-scenes drama surrounding The Clone Saga:

And the way Ben defeats Venom is so clever and inventive! Instead of relying upon the symbiote's usual weaknesses of loud noises and extreme heat, Ben utilizes his own original inventions as the Scarlet Spider. Ben shooting multiple "impact-webbing" pellets down Venom's mouth which immediately expand into hundreds of little webs that get caught directly in-between Eddie Brock and the symbiote, weakening their bond as Ben then shoots his "stinger" web darts to further weaken Venom as he beats him into submission.

Seeing Ben Reilly singlehandedly take down the one supervillain that Peter Parker was never able to truly defeat up until that point was honestly one of the most badass and entertaining fight scenes that I've ever read in a superhero comic!

And its honestly shocking that neither impact-webbing nor stingers stuck around in the comics after The Clone Saga ended (only appearing in the video game adaptations), since those things are so FREAKING awesome!

From adjectiveless Spider-Man (1990) #53 by Howard Mackie & the late Tom Lyle (May he Rest In Peace...).

#spiderman #scarlet spider #ben reilly #kaine parker #peter parker #venom #eddie brock #venom symbiote #clone saga #the exile returns #howard mackie #tom lyle #marvel comics #glenn greenberg #the life of reilly #90s comics

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chronologicalhomestuck · 6 months ago

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karkat pov liveblog: hivebent, part 1

we begin in a lab on a meteor in the furthest ring.

computer enhance.

look at all those little goobers! i am not replaying this whole flash just for this moment but in lieu of that, here's hussie's commentary on the scene from the book, just for a bit of spice.

as far as i can tell, karkat's first chronological appearance in hivebent is 2177.

vriska has just jumped tavros off a cliff, and he chooses to message karkat about it. im not sure what he hoped to get out of this since karkats only reply is characteristically snappy.

we then jump to 2025. karkat is messing around with some .~ATH files. in the middle of examining the mobius double reacharound virus (titled check_thii2_2hiit_out.~ATH), he gets trolled by its author. hello sollux.

CG: SO YOU MADE THIS GAME? TA: no no. TA: more liike ii adapted iit. CG: FROM WHAT. TA: 2ome crazy technology AA dug out of 2ome ruiin2. TA: havent you talked two her about iit? CG: MAN, NO. CG: I CAN'T TALK TO HER, SHE'S SO SPOOKY.

we start talking about the game that will take up the rest of karkats story, and get a hint about this mysterious "AA."

he then hears crabdad complaining, and chooses to put this off...long enough to introduce himself, i guess.

karkat's introduction is 1992, written in a way directly referencing john's introduction.

Earth, also for convenient reference, is a planet that does not yet exist.

see how we are doing this? logical! earth doesnt exist yet, so of course we arent starting with the humans!

homestuck does not want me to read it chronologically. it is doing everything possible to stop me from reading it chronologically.

This game, for convenient reference, is a game that DOES NOT YET EXIST.

please. please let me obey chronology.

Later on, you would swap your modus with your hacker friend, a guy who unlike you happens to be competent with programming. It would only make sense.

i thought i would embark on this quest and find its purpose along my way. that purpose, it seems so far, is to acknowledge just how stupid this chronology is.

It is your sixth wriggling day, and as with all five preceding it blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

yeah i was about to say something like that. that being that i wont have much to say so long as the plot remains linear.

It figures that installing this new beta chat client would open the floodgates

i always forget that trollian was brand new when hivebent starts. i wonder what they used to message each other before then?

speaking of which, his first pesterlog after his introduction is page 2010, with gamzee. its kinda sad how mean karkat is to a lot of his friends tbh.

TC: iSn'T sOmEtHiNg BiG aLl GoInG dOwN? CG: WHAT? TC: i HeArD sOmEtHiNg bIg WaS gOiNg AlL dOwN. TC: JuSt AlL bE tElLiNg Me AlL wHaT mOtHeRfUcKiN iT's Up AnD aLl AbOuT. CG: STOP SAYING ALL. ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT TA'S THING? TC: yEaH!! fUcK yEaH mAn, So MyStErIoUs. TC: I'm NeVeR bEiNg GeTtInG cEaSeD tO bE aMaZeD bY aLl ThEsE fUcKiN mYsTeRiEs LiFe'S gOt FoR uS. CG: UUUUUUGH. CG: ANYWAY, I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S UP WITH THAT. CG: MAYBE I'LL TALK TO HIM TONIGHT ABOUT IT. MAYBE I WON'T. CG: IT'S PROBABLY JUST ANOTHER ONE OF HIS PROJECTS THAT WINDS UP BEING COMPLETELY USELESS AND A HUGE WASTE OF MY TIME.

(apologies if the text is hard to read on dark mode. i use cyber theme myself and cant see a word gamzee says here)

according to the pov cam, the next page karkat is on chronologically is 2058. the great team divide / team leader argument of hivebent has officially begun, with karkat and terezi. and in the end, it wont even matter at all. lmao.

CG: OK WELL CG: SPEAKING OF THAT CG: I SHOULD GO DOWNSTAIRS AND DEAL WITH THIS GRUMPY CUSTOMER. CG: IT'S GOING TO FONDLE MAJOR SEEDFLAP, BUT HOPEFULLY IT'LL BE QUICK. CG: YOU CAN ESTABLISH YOUR CONNECTION AND DO YOUR TRIVIAL SIDEKICK STUFF I GUESS IN THE MEANTIME. GC: OK! >:D

and apparently karkat intends to deal with his quite grumpy crabdad at the end of this conversation.

but then his computer explodes.

interesting. sburb equipment already? i suppose he was right:

CG: TEREZI AND I HAVE ALREADY ESTABLISHED A CONNECTION AND WE ARE MAKING GREAT PROGRESS HERE. CG: WE ARE A GREAT TEAM, AND I AM A FANTASTIC LEADER.

welp. guess he didnt have to deal with him after all. although the drawing on the fridge is very cute.

terezi has continued to make progress on his hive...

and he gets his new weapon...

only to find his toilet detached from its fixings.

GC: 1M YOUR S3RV3R PL4Y3R SO PR1OR1TY H4S TO B3 ON M3 G3TT1NG 1N TH3 G4M3 GC: B3FOR3 1 G3T K1LL3D BY M3T3ORS GC: 1N WH1CH C4S3 YOUD B3 SCR3W3D 1N TH3R3 GC: TH3N TH3 N3XT GUY COM3S 1N, TH3N TH3 N3XT GC: 4ND YOU BR1NG TH3 L4ST ON3 1N CG: WHOA WAIT, WHAT? CG: METEORS? CG: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. CG: WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH METEORS. GC: OH BOY YOU N33D TO G3T W1TH TH3 PROGR4M K4RK4T

karkat, i think you are a bit behind on what this game is going to be like. yet you are already on your planet despite that!

i gotta go now but ill be back

#liveblog #pov: karkat #hivebent #hivebent: karkat #idk tagging system so far #homestuck liveblog #homestuck #karkat vantas

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