#if you dont like long posts you can turn on the collapse posts feature in settings fun fact dont yell at me for your own dash choices

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

not a desert technically but I just visited the dunes in Monterey and gleefully trampled on some ice plant and I feel like you might enjoy that. if you wanna talk about the kinds of vegetation that grow in sandy soil or something I invite you to 👀

(also you're doing it! you're surviving! you'll get through that doctorate!)

ok ready this is my most important soapbox of all because soils in the desert are very special and have such cool organisms you don't find in these arrangements outside of drylands...

first lookee here. wauw beautiful utah

ok now look closer

no closer closer closer

CLOSER CLOSER CLOSER

WOW is that MOSS? you are thinking. the answer is YES. but doesn't moss like lots of water you are thinking??? WELL USUALLY. BUT in the desert you will notice that things like grasses and shrubs have lots of space between them unlike in more temperate climates-vegetation cover is not truly continuous. And there's less leaf litter than in forests obscuring the dirt. Which means all that soil is just sitting out in the open with nothing to protect it from being blown away by those harsh desert winds... except of course for our friends the BIOLOGICAL SOIL CRUSTS. also known as crypotbiotic soils, cryptogrammic soils, and biocrusts (for short).

These are communities of mosses, lichens, cyanobacteria (aka blue green algae--yes, those are usually Wet too, but ironically so so common in deserts), and the tens of thousands of surface and subsurface microbes that are associated with them. It's easy to forget just how many organisms are living in one single scoop of soil, especially because science can barely identify 1% of these microbes. Like of JUST the ones we have enough info to classify enough to count in my own master's dataset left me with over 25,000 unique taxonomic units I had to manage. don't worry about what that means just know it was very annoying and makes statistics a headache. anyway you find them all over the southwest US states as well as in other deserts around the world (spain, australia, sooo many in china, incredible ones in the succulent karoo in south africa/namibia, plenty in argentina etc etc), if you know where to look...

anyway OUR HEROS THE BIOCRUST aren't just there to look pretty (though you will can see from photos they also do this :) ), but are a vital component to the dryland ecosystem! They literally hold the soil surface together to prevent erosion, they influence hydrology in terms of rainfall runoff + infiltration, they impact how seeds germinate, they contribute to nutrient cycling and what plant-available compounds are held at the soil surface... like i feel like Tumblr in general has been made aware of how fungi & root networks interact in large scale systems like forests, but that is also happening on a more microscopic level in deserts! just in the top couple centimeters soooo much is happening. Cyanobacteria in particular are tiny organisms that produce little nets of sugars woven in the soil to climb around on and protect themselves, and if you crumble a little bit of soil from the surface you can see how the little spiderweb strings literally hold together the sand particles.

Now that you're Aware of biocrusts, when you look at larger scale landscape photos taken in un-trampled areas of desert, you will notice them as darker patches and textures on the lighter soil:

Yep there's these tiny little communities all over, that many people never learn to see. And now what I said before about mosses & cyanobacteria usually preferring wet environments--they have in fact adapted to life in the desert in ways that means they're dormant for most of the year. They live in stasis until the rainy season hits (or in some cases, winter moisture from a snow layer--many will photosynthesize through a few inches of snow since it's clear/white), and then burst into color and life. Many patches of biocrust will look utterly lifeless and dried out at first and then become vibrant and swell up within a few minutes of being exposed to moisture. Lichens, while more vibrant even when dry, will also mostly only grow/reproduce while wet. And biocrusts come in all sorts of colors, shapes, and preferred microhabitats!

anyway this post is long enough already so i'll be quick. while beautiful and important as you can imagine these are FRAGILE. if they get trampled too much, by humans or cows or cars, that's it. you're back to bare soil that can blow away whenever it wants.

I was lucky to get to participate in a 2x/year survey of one of the very few places in Utah to NEVER have cattle grazing or development, a remote area the entrance is kept secret to inside Canyonlands National Park, where you can see just how dense and lush biocrusts once could be in the US southwest:

ah... glorious. what special little guys. this is why if you visit many of the national parks in Utah you will see signs & stickers around with slogans like "Don't Bust The Crust" and "Tiptoe Through The Crypto" and etc. so heed that advice but DO stop and kneel down and get a better look at them!

[re-bee-key]

Just watched the Tumblr Live QnA Panel, and here's some of my thoughts:

* Had to toggle on Tumblr Live to watch and agree to the terms.

The stream itself was a little low quality visually, not terrible, but either they used a low quality camera or streaming isn't up to the same quality as other sites like Tiktok

* the gifting feature that mimics Tiktok was obnoxious. Users that seem to use Tumblr Live a lot where using gifts very often. The gift icons would take up most of the screen covering chat.

Some people in chat suggested that the gifters were Staff plants to make the site seem more popular than it is. There is no way to verify if they are or are not. But these individuals talked in the chat about how they use Tumblr Live all the time, and some dont even have blogs they only use Live. Which is????

I don't like the gifting emojis. But i dont like them on Twitch or tiktok either, so shrug emoji, i guess

Questions Answered (that i remember)

* The Chronological Dashboard will stay. They mentioned this several times that tumblr, while they are going to improve the For You algorithm, the main Chronological Dashboard will not change.

* Tumblr Live apparently isn't blocked in Europe and is just waiting for approval, which is soon. They said it being blocked was misinformation. (Which i have no way to verify.)

* LGBTQA+ and specifically Trans content getting flagged or censored is a bug, apparently. They said it happens from time to time, but reporting should fix it. Users in the chat were unhappy with this answer since the issue has lasted for such a long time and doesn't seem or feel random. But they did not comment further.

* Tumblr posts being collapsable was not super addressed. They sort of skimmed over this question and just said that they try lots of new features to see what works and what doesn't. Apparently, there will be a toggle to turn this feature on or off.

* Tumblr Groups was addressed. It was shut down because not enough users used the feature.

Apparently, not many users use Tumblr Live either, but they want to keep working on it to make it appealing.

* Another bit about Tumblr Live. CEO essentially said they will not give the option to permanently toggle off the feature.

One user had asked if Tumblr had investors. CEO said, "Of course."

CEO did mention they "might" add a way to permanently turn off tumblr live. But it if they did, it would be a paid option over $20.

* One user commented that they are epileptic and that certain ads trigger their seizures because of the flashing colors and wanted to know what they would do for this issue. Tumblr CEO said "Well you could pay for No Ads."

CEO talked about paying to go ad free a lot. Saying only 25 thousand users pay for it at the moment.

Personally, it seems really irresponsible to suggest that the only way to fix an accessibility issue is for a user to pay money. As if disabled people dont have to pay enough as it is.

* I had asked if they were willing to work with more artists for Merch and Badges. They said they are working on it and there is a feature called Creatr that is set up to uplift creators and work with them on merch ideas.

I've never heard of Creatr. He seemed like we should have known what it was? Maybe they should promote that more. I know we all want more ways to support artists.

* More Badges and Achievements are coming. Apparently, a Legacy Badge that shows how long you've been on tumblr is in the works. (Im personally very excited about Badges.)

* Tumblr is thinking bout doing more QnA and even meet ups at different conventions and some even at the headquarters themselves. (They did not acknowledge questions that asked for a Headquarters video tour.)

Anyways, that was about all I can remember. Staff didn't record the panel, so hopefully, one of the other users did.

They talked about other random stuff. Calling out gifters specifically and rambling about donuts and books.

Oh, also, they brought a ball pit. Which is, yeah. Lol

[nettlewildfairy]

Tumblr made that big long post and a lot of people are angry reacting to some like surprisingly reasonable suggestions that solve widespread long time  complaints

i dont know how they plan to solve everything just yet but as someone who knows some things about the industry and jargon here are my 2 cents

Here is a link to the referenced post

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr

in an age where most social media sites are making it aesoteric and difficult to share posts offsite /app tumblr is considering making it easier to do

yall do you know how hard it is to link a long tumblr post with like a comic or funny string of replies to share with my friends who arent on tumblr? i have to take like 15 screenshots every time. IF staff is priorizing making it easier to share posts that would be so much better oh my god 2 High quality content on launch.  the pessamistic assumption is that this could mean a mandatory algorithm but if you read carefully you’ll notice they never fully say thats even remotely what they are going to do. This seems to be a suggestion that the default new user experience will change. 

If you like me made an account 10 years ago this looks like it won’t affect your experience whatsoever. 

but like trying to sort through tags to find blogs and curate my own feed actively took like over a year to get to a place where i’m happy when i did it in 2011/2012

if feeds and tags Worked that would be good. the for you page and exploration features on tumblr do, admittedly suck right now. there SHould be easier ways to find and search for stuff on tumblr. if their search worked better and finding stuff you wanted to see was easier that Would improve the experience for most people on this site.  3. facilitate easier user participation in conversations folks if replys could be threaded in some way it would be 1000 times easeir to have convos with them. like i do not get what people are upset about here. like a person shouldn’t have to reblog their own post 15 times in a row to reply to different people about the same thing. they could make this so much better.  4. Retain and grow our creator base

 it IS hard for art to see and get seen. if i had a nickle for every time i saw a post begging people to reblog art i’d have like so many nickles.  I would like to see more art. and ttrpg creators. there’s like stuff i have to go to twitter for and its small time ttrpg, art, writing, and literary magazines because even when those folks are on tumblr its extraordinarily difficult to find them with the systems currently in place.

 like i don’t know that tumblr has a good plan to make this kind of thing easier but if they did figure it out it would rule. and its good to know that this is a priority for the company 5.  Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr

throttling notifications rules. i have commented on tumblr staff posts dozens of times for like 5+ years asking for this, thank GOD. if you reblog a lot of posts you get a lot of notes even if you have like 15 people regularly interacting with your stuff on 100 posts a day thats like 1500 notifications. it collapses some by post or interaction type but that is NOT enough and the notification bar always says 99+ unless i checked it less than a minute ago, im dying please make notifications meaningful and not overwhelming. 

6: Performance, stability and quality

this is generic and means very little obviously anyone making an app wants it to crash less often.  bonus: ive seen people get upset at the implication that they are instituting a mandatory algorithm but the site has had an option algorithm for like ages, it doesn't imply its mandatory anywhere or that they're taking away our option to turn it off. there are already artist showcase things on the dash on the regular, if you have adblock on you can’t see some of those, but they've had them for fully years. 

its highly unlikely that they would get rid of one of the main selling points of tumblr.com they’re like a real company thats done bare minimum market research, like folks no one other than musk would do something that boneheaded

[mychemicalficrecs]

lookin for any ship (no w*ycest oh god) but for it to be a historic / not modern au! ive read quite a few of the popular ferard ones, but I cant find them anymore so feel free to include those. longer ones would be preferable, and i dont mind if they include other things like vampires or like.. pirates or somethin. thank u so much!!!!

Hi Nonny!

First things first: This is a blog for all ships. I'll answer your ask this time, but from now on asks that hate on a ship will be deleted. It's perfectly fine to dislike a ship and want it excluded from a list you're requesting, but you can be neutral about it.

With that out of the way: This Frank/Gerard Historical AUs list might be interesting to you as well!

Historical AUs (Misc. Ship Edition)

Bury Me In Memory by Acadjonne, Ray/Gerard, 27k, Teen And Up Audiences. Since losing his wife, Ray has done everything he could to raise his daughter Grace on his own. His brother-in-law Gideon, however, somehow always finds ways to complain about Ray and his parenting abilities. Despite this, Ray is determined not to let Gideon get the best of him. A chance meeting with author Gerard Way may change things, however, as the two soon begin to develop an attachment to each other, though neither does anything about it. Gerard is too preoccupied with making a grand statement about it, and Ray is too afraid of how it might affect Grace if Gideon were ever to find out. One misplaced paper, however, may be the unraveling of an important and well kept secret; one which could bring Ray’s entire life crashing down around him.

If I Fall by GALEXY, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Jamia, Lindsey/Gerard, Christa/Ray, Kristin/Mikey, 25k, Mature. “Jersey boys, huh?” The officer looked the five of them over before jerking his chin towards a table near the entry way. “Go on.” As they walked away, the blonde one—they later came to know him as Bob—sighed and muttered “I’m from Chicago” under his breath.

Gunpowder and Lead by prophetic, Frank/Gerard, Lindsey/Frank/Gerard, 53k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank and Gerard made it through their first cattle drive together, but now Frank is gone and Gerard doesn’t know what to do. His gut tells him Frank’s disappearance has something to do with the preacher man. Turns out, Lindsey is looking for the preacher man too, but she won’t say why. Gerard has reasons enough to hate the man, but Lindsey has more—reasons that stretch back into her family, her childhood, and what brought her out west in the first place. She wants what he owes her—she wants revenge. American Western, set in the 1880s.

In Firmer Chains, Our Hearts Confine by doctorkilljoy, Grant/Gerard, 37k, Explicit. Former musical composer and current writer Gerard Way is a sensation of the musical and literary scenes of 1800s London. But after struggling for ages with his new book, he’s close to giving up. Until he receives an offer from Grant Morrison himself; to go to his manor in Scotland and work on his novel in peace. Gerard seizes upon the chance immediately. Grant, however, has a dark secret he’s desperately trying to keep hidden. And Gerard has a few of his own.

GHOST OF YOU by wentz, Mikey/Pete, 13k, Mature. he spends a lot of time thinking about gaps... gaps in time, gaps in space. the gap between the hem of mikey’s t-shirt and the waistband of his pants when he stretches his arms over his head. gaps in teeth, gaps in narratives. gaps of silence between gunshots. mostly he thinks about the wide, wide gap of the atlantic ocean and the war waiting on the other side.

Lead Me Home by wordslinging, Frank/Gerard, Grant/Gerard, Frank/Grant/Gerard, 34k, Explicit. When Grant finds an unconscious young man on the edge of his country estate, he takes him in and nurses him through the fever that develops, only to find when the fever breaks that his guest has completely lost his memories. With only a first name--Gerard--and evidence that he's escaped from some sort of danger, Grant and Gerard begin a search for his identity, all the while finding themselves drawn closer to each other. When they make contact with Gerard's family--including his father's ward, a young man named Frank--their situation becomes even more complicated.

amnesiaverse by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Grant, Frank/Grant/Gerard, 45k, Explicit. Written for prompt number five of the yobrothatssick challenge: One foggy, wet afternoon, a mysterious young man collapses on the doorstep of Lord Morrison's manor. He does not remember his name or how he came to be there, but he does not seem that unfamiliar to Gerard, Lord Morrison's ward...

Below the Trees, Which Are Below the Stars by alpheratz, Frank/Mikey, Ray/Gerard, 38k, Explicit. In the mid-1920s, Gerard and Mikey moved to France - Gerard to pursue art, Mikey because he couldn't stay behind. Now, it's 1930, and Mikey's become an airmail pilot, flying the mail route to Dakar with his navigator Frank. For a long time, the only rough thing about Mikey's life was the strain on his and Gerard's soulbond when Mikey was away, but his growing feelings for Frank and the arrival of Frank's old friend Ray could change everything.

1930s Dragverse by wordslinging, Frank/Gerard, Grant/Gerard, 45k, Mature. It's the last year of Prohibition, and bootlegger Frank Iero wants to sever his ties to the world of organized crime and go straight, but his mob connections have other plans for him. No one would like to see Frank get away from the mob more than Gerard, but he's got problems of his own--like the fact that he's a cross-dressing cabaret singer constantly struggling to keep his true identity secret from those who can't be trusted. With the help of a devoted brother, a detective who just might be as trustworthy as he claims, and a wealthy, eccentric Scotsman who features prominently in Gerard's past, Frank and Gerard just might be able to get out and start a new life together, but it's not going to be easy. A tale of gangsters, garter belts, love (hopefully) overcoming all obstacles, and a whole lot of coffee.

in sickness and in health by mwestbelle, Bob/Jamia, Bob/Frank/Jamia, Frank/Jamia, 16k, Explicit. WWII AU in which Bob married his fallen comrade's wife out of duty, but Frank is not so fallen.

Fic: The End of the Beginning (PG-13) by tuesdaysgone, Lindsey/Gerard, Bob/Gerard, Lindsey/Alicia, Lindsey/Bob, Lindsey/Bob/Gerard, Alicia/Gerard, 15k, Teen And Up Audiences. Prompt #413 - post WWII fic where MCR are returned to the US in varying states of physical/mental hurt. Gee has his wife to go back to, but also has to face Alicia, and while he's managed to come to terms with Mikey's death with the help of his unit, he feels pretty guilty for letting Alicia's husband die. Lyn and Alica are strong women in the workforce (overalls and mechanics!). They all deal with their pain and trauma together. A billion bonus points if MCR made pacts to *look after* their wives if something happened to them, and Alicia refuses to be a charity case, and it all turns into 50s secret swinging GSF.

Fic: These Elegant Crimes (R) by tuesdaysgone, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Greta Salpeter, Frank/Greta Salpeter/Gerard, 33k, Mature. Gerard Way inherits a title and a seat in the House of Lords and decides to Save Lives Through Legislation. He also paints portraits, collects strays, and occasionally commits felonies in his spare time. A Victorian AU.

Undertow by silentdescant, Frank/Jamia, Lindsey/Gerard, 35k, Mature. Frank lost his ship, his crew, and his best friend in one violent storm. When he washes up on an island, he has to learn how start living again. Time passes, and he thinks he's settled down and moved on, but then he rescues a woman from the sea and in caring for her, realizes he hasn't fully recovered from his own shipwreck. Frank quickly comes to depend on her and though he starts to live again, he doesn't want to live without her. Vaguely-historical AU.

A Gentleman's Agreement by mahoni (orphan_account), Bob/Brian and other band ships, 56k, Explicit. Brian buys and sells unicorns and bicorns for the titled and wealthy. When Bob's stepfather defaults on a debt he owes Brian, he uses Bob as barter to pay the debt off. Brian and Bob agree that their arrangement will be a marriage on paper only, that Bob will run Brian's stables and the relationship will remain strictly professional. But despite Bob's trust issues and Brian's propensity for drinking a lot instead of dealing with how he feels, their mutual affection for Brian's horses breaks down the walls between them. With a little help from Brian's friends and his possessed house, they begin to fall in love.

[maxchou]

Mordrehearne or Trahemoth?

i should REALLY make a gw2 blog so i dont flood my main with this stuff!!

anyway, i wrote a little bit of garbage for my corrupted Trahearne art i posted not too long ago, featuring the after-math of the Commander rescuing Trahearne from the blighted pod instead of killing him. this is basically what might happen to Trahearne eventually once Mordremoth’s voice becomes too much for him to handle!! big inspiration from @commander-titania unwilling retirement AU!!

warning for implied death and suicidal shit!!

It felt like a rock was sitting in his throat. Trahearne could feel it coming, the will of the Elder Dragon everyone thought was dead. Since that time in the Heart of Maguuma, Trahearne felt it itching at the back of his head, the Dragon Mordremoth whispering to him, talking to him with words so quiet yet so loud. Trahearne couldn’t stand to be alone or amongst too much silence for too long without splitting headaches from the Dragon’s endless chatter.

Trahearne knew it was coming. He knew he didn’t have long. He knew he had to get far away from everything he loved, as far as he could go. He couldn’t bear to end up hurting them once Mordremoth’s seed sprouted.

With the excuse of a vacation, Trahearne began traveling out west. The Pact let him go without much trouble. The Commander knew how over-worked Trahearne all of the time was and asked to go along with him. Since that time in the Heart of Maguuma, the Firstborn had moved weaker, felt weaker. Everything was weaker about him and such weakness only grew worse. Of course, Trahearne turned the Commander down and insisted he go alone for unspoken reasons.

Trahearne traveled through Tyria, through his beloved homeland. It anguished him to know he wouldn’t remember it the same way much longer. 

Soon, the Firstborn had come to the Maguuma Jungle, where it all started. Mordremoth’s call was worse than ever here, and yet still Trahearne persisted traveling. He wanted to go further than this, further past Maguuma and its depths.

After what must have been weeks of traveling and walking and feeling as though he could no longer bear the pains of the Elder Dragon swelling inside of his head, Trahearne collapsed upon the track he walked. The slaughtering heat made everything move in slow motion. That poor, foolish necromancer grasped at the grass. He could sense the will of the Dragon coming over him, feel it’s gnashing teeth and powerful lunges. Had the Commander killed him that time in the Heart of Maguuma, none of this would have happened.

Trahearne shook his head. Now was not the time to be spiting the Commander’s name for not respecting his wish. They had saved him, after all, despite the circumstances. With a groan, the Firstborn tossed himself onto his backside. Sliding a dagger out from his satchel, Trahearne gazed at the blade, hand tightly fitted around the hilt. 

Now would be the perfect time to end it all. At the Dragon Mordremoth’s strongest, Trahearne could pierce his heart and stop his blood cold. The Dragon would finally die with him. Tears pricked at the corner of Trahearne’s eyes as he angled the dagger towards himself. He was hesitating, and he knew why. Mordremoth knew what he was trying to do and was trying to will the Sylvari to stop, to give in, to get up and let the Elder Dragon take control of what was rightfully his.

“Come, Firstborn. You were made to serve me, and I will claim you.”

Mordremoth’s voice stung like poison in Trahearne’s head. It was now or never. “You will not take my people, Mordremoth. I will end this now, for their sake.” Trahearne was struggling against the Dragon’s will, pulling with all his might on the dagger, fighting back at the Dragon even now. Trahearne’s will was almost as strong as Mordremoth’s, but it was dwindling along with whatever strength the Dragon had not fed off him.

With a heaving breath, Trahearne’s arm snapped towards him, and he felt the cool metal of the knife sink into his flesh. His vision lit up with the pain and he hissed deeply. His purple blood rushed forward and seeped around his fingers, coating his hand in the essence of his body.

“You… will not take my… people…”

The Firstborn’s heart stopped. At that very same time, Mordremoth, the Elder Dragon of the Jungle, died with him.

Or did he? -- Trahearne’s sight filled with light suddenly and he awoke with a gasp. Laying on his backside, he could see that he was still on the jungle floor, staring up at the overhanging canopy and brambles.

“I’m alive?”

With a glance around him, Trahearne could see his dagger, several feet away from him. No wound in his chest. His intention to merge with the sharp end of death had failed.

Trahearne could still feel the budding presence of Mordremoth in his skull, and how vividly it throbbed and pulsed. There was no pain, however. With such a heavyweight in his mind, it was a miracle he felt no wear.

Standing to his feet, Trahearne dusted off his dark palm cloak and brushed his fingers over the scarred half of his face. As bark-like as ever. Still, no pain.

“Do you like it? The lack of pain?”

The heavy voice of Mordremoth rang through Trahearne’s head, making the Firstborn gasp. He quickly connected the dots and began to panic.

“No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be. By the Pale Tree, this can’t be!”

Mordremoth had successfully made Trahearne hallucinate his death, and in doing so was given the chance to integrate further into the Sylvari’s system. They were merged now. Their minds and conscience were one.

Trahearne lunged for the dagger and pointed the blade towards his chest, like before. His arms felt incredibly weak at that instant and he dropped the weapon.

“We are one. We have shared control over your body. I feel your thoughts and your mind, your memories and your sensations. I can feel your connection to Caladbolg, to the Pale Tree, to all of your kind.”

Mordremoth’s voice spoke in Trahearne’s head like it was his own- because it was his own. They truly were one entity now. Through the swaths of his panic, Trahearne could feel them smiling ease of Mordremoth as the Dragon leafed through his mind like an open book.

“Now then, shall we go about spreading my love?” Mordremoth chuckled, controlling Trahearne’s body to pick up their dagger and stuff it away in their satchel.

Trahearne had no choice, as much as he tried to fight it, to allow Mordremoth to maneuver their body. He could feel his mind being swallowed up by Mordremoth’s overwhelming strength.

“Mordrehearne. Trahemoth. Which do you like better?” Mordremoth began walking their vessel back down the path they had come up. 

“I’m sure the Pact will be happy to see us again.”

[thedistantstorm]

Breaking the Wheel

The Last City | Post Red War | New Monarchy | The Vanguard | City Politics | Suraya Hawthorne | Hard Truths | Pre-Relationship Steelponcho if you squint

"... what did she mean by that?"

Hawthorne shifts her weight subtly, he only catches the end of the movement. "Don't think too much about it. It's in the past."

Cool blue eyes narrow and soften all at once. "You told her that I was trustworthy," He reminds her. “That you trust me.”

Around them, the fragile, rebuilding City carries on. Lamps, lanterns, contained fires are lit where there is little remaining electrical infrastructure. No one pays the Commander and the newly appointed Clan Steward any mind. Cayde and Ikora have long since gone on ahead of them.

"Was that a lie?" He asks, knowing full well it isn't.

She shakes her head, blinking out of their staring contest. He frowns. "You are," Hawthorne eventually says, as people pass them by.  She steps forward, as if she's going to run right into him, but then to the side, so they stand shoulder to shoulder. She faces the base of the crumbling Tower, plumes of smoke still rising into the sky. He looks out at the rebuilding City - hardship and cooperation sowing the seeds of hope.

"Tell me," He says, and it's meant to be a command, but commands do not work on her. It's what he tells himself when his voice comes out softer, hoarse and concerned.

It has nothing to do with the growing well of suspicion in his loins he does not want to believe - does not want to find out, even if he knows, he does - to be the truth.

-/

They have made it a point to be accessible. Part of his reasoning in keeping Hawthorne in the fold is that she has her finger on the pulse of humanity. She doesn't see it, but he's learned to see that her supposed arrogance and standoffish behavior is a well-worn shield, designed to protect against attachments and the inevitable emotional hurts that would follow. Another is that she is unassuming. Cunning. Intelligent. Her resources held tens of thousands of people. She'd organized a relief effort in a week, held ground and kept people safe with minimal casualties, and her reasoning was that it was the right thing to do. He still wonders how it is her criminal record was more like a novella, sometimes. He knows she was preparing for a war, of some sort, but he doesn't understand what war she anticipated or why.

The people in this district are making due. It's barely different than the Farm here, though they're building houses and restoring what salvageable framework remains. But, the sense of permanence helps. It keeps spirits up. They're home. They've won. They will prevail here, too; Things will get better.

The old Tower burns at his back, jet fuel from the old hangar and electrical sparks causing many disturbances, wildfires that are more dangerous to fight because of how compromised the framework is. The district directly below it had been completely wiped out. They will not rebuild it until they are certain what's left of the Hall of Guardians will not collapse down upon it. Just thinking of it makes a distinct sadness creep into his heart. 

It was his home. 

He shakes his head. He cannot think of it now. There will be time later. (There won't, but his people need him.)

Before him, the rebuild of the Anchor District is going smoothly. He focuses on that. On the greatness that can be accomplished when Humans and Guardians stand together and work as one. 

Beside him, Hawthorne looks around with a sharp gaze. Not judging, like he'd initially thought when they met months ago. She's looking for something. She's seeing something he doesn't.

"Alright?"

She blinks. Her gaze doesn't dull. She hasn't found what she's looking for, or it requires more investigation.

"Fine," She says. "Let's see what's happening down here." If nothing else, it pleases him that she’s acclimated to considering the new Tower her place of residence.

Above them, red and white banners flap in the early evening wind.

Part of this is checking on rebuild progress with the dispatched planners. Another is making sure resources are being stretched appropriately and that if something else is needed: lumber, steel, medical supplies, food, that it's addressed. Moving people back to the City from the Farm is a slow process. One they will do right.

The planner smiles at Zavala when he asks if they have what they need. "New Monarchy is helping us," He says. "They're filling in the gaps. We want for nothing."

This has always been a poor area, and New Monarchy helps the poor. New Monarchy always supported industry as well, specifically plasteel. It's no secret that the Vanguard does requisition quite a bit from them. They've got jobs waiting for these people. Hideo was rather insistent that once the rebuild was sound he'd find ways to get people back to work, to do his part to rebuild the economy.

And yet, Hawthorne frowns when they leave, her face reverting to a careful mask when he makes it obvious he's looking at her.

"What is wrong?"

She clasps her hands behind her back, wringing them.

"He didn't seem to be lying," He informs her mildly, guessing at her apprehension. She’d expressed a concern to him before, regarding the Clans and the Factions. Specifically the latter infringing upon the former.

Hawthorne stops walking, the step she'd been about to take forward aborted mid-execution. "He wasn't," She tells him slowly. Her hands come around her front. She crosses them. 

He's spent enough time to know what uncomfortable and pensive look like on her. "What is it?"

"I dont-" She sighs. "I'm worried," She finally admits.

Blue eyes blink at her, so very bright. She does not market herself as an emotional creature, though he knows she feels as deeply as he does. To express it so blatantly means she does not feel her feelings are unfounded. “Explain.”

As if she's at war with herself, her dark eyes flutter closed. She squeezes her hands where they rest above the opposite elbow, releases her defensive pose and exhales.

There is something in her gaze that could cut diamonds, their normal shade of earthy brown cool and dark. "You asked me to stay because you believed I'd make a difference."

He nods, mutely. He was there, he does remember his well drafted list of reasons, his defenses, all the things he hadn't needed because he'd started honestly and she'd rewarded that with some trust and commitment of her own.

"Part of why I agreed is because you can't save this City from itself."

"What?"

She reaches out: her nimble, cold, gun-calloused fingers wrapping around his wrist. "You,” She pauses, features concentrating, trying to put things the best way she can, with the least amount of offense. He knows she’s trying, that she holds a fear of failing her people - their people - very close to her chest. “You don't know know this City like I do." Something in her gaze softens just a smidgen. "Come with me."

-/

They meet up with Ikora and Cayde near what will eventually be the restored plaza at the heart of the district. For now, the storefronts house people en mass, providing better shielding from the elements than tarps and tents.

Hope in the face of destruction, the heartiness of Humanity is something breathtakingly heartrending to behold. This was the scene of a last stand. Of humans and militia defending survivors. He’d been told the story. Flowers and candles alight the street, banners - Vanguard, New Monarchy, patchwork flags for Clans - fly overhead.

A ball rolls in front of them, and Cayde makes quick work to nudge it back to them. They holler and cheer, he aims finger-guns and makes a show of blowing them out with little sparks and smoke when they ooh and ah after him.

Ikora, tempered by Cayde, offers them a gentle acknowledgement of her own. She does not do as well with these sorts of things, but she is trying. She’d never admit it, but the truth to Hawthorne’s accusations - what it means to be a Guardian - all those nights ago in one of the decomposing barns of the Farm really bothered her.

They are welcomed into one of the larger, more intact storefronts. Hawthorne does not take point, like he’s expecting. Instead, he is the one who leads them, following an older woman to a back room with a wooden table.

It isn’t much. There are rolled up sleeping mats in what looks to be a door-less storage closet. The woman offers them something to drink, trying, despite it all to be a gracious host. They decline, and she nods. For the best. The people are still rationing water. The Cabal polluted much of the freshwater supply within the city with their refuse, jet fuel, and otherworldly oils.

They make idle small-talk, about the way the City’s rebuild is panning out, the good that comes when Light and Lightless work together. The woman tells them of the children whose parents and other elders take turns watching them so that work can be done, of how they’re working to re-implement some form of education system until things can return to normal.

“Thank you for your support,” She says eventually, nodding to each of them in turn. She has bright, silver-blue eyes that contrast her pewter-grey, fading hair that’s tucked back into a bun at the base of her head.

Zavala nods. “You have everything you need? We are happy to-”

“Yes,” She replies quickly, looking away. “Thank you.”

Across the room, Hawthorne leans back against the wall, crossing her arms again. Zavala looks at her. She gives him a sad smile.

“You can tell the truth,” Hawthorne encourages, gently.

The woman’s eyes find hers like magnets, pupils constricted. Conflict and panic written across her face.

“I-” She swallows. “It’s the truth. We do.” Her gaze finds Zavala’s and it makes him flinch, internally, makes him want to recoil. This woman is afraid of him. Why is this woman afraid of him? “You’ve been more than generous.”

Hawthorne closes her eyes while Ikora’s eyes narrow and Cayde stops his idle fidgeting for once. The woman looks at her, pleadingly. The Clan steward steps to the woman, sitting at the table and drops to a knee, crouching beside her. “I trust him.”

“But-” His ears feel hot, and there is something akin to panic that bubbles in his chest. He has never wanted to strike fear into the hearts of the people. He wants to protect them from anything, anyone, any form of danger or strife. He would never be their aggressor. Why does this woman believe he would bear her any ill will? He would lay down and die for her - for any of them. He would-

“He is not Hideo’s man.” Hawthorne says. She rises and places a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes are unfathomably open. He cannot look away. “He is the City’s and hers alone.”

Then, Zavala blinks at the woman, who looks at him in earnest. Broken. Hopeful. Terrified. He wants to ask how, why she feels the way she does, but more than that, he wants to get down on his knees and beg her to understand. Compelled, he takes one of her hands in both of hers and tries. “What is happening,” He asks. “Please, tell me.” His voice is hoarse. Ikora and Cayde look at each other, then the ground. Their stances are rigid, uncomfortable.

“Tithing began last week.” She sighs. “What we don’t have in money, they take in other ways.”

“Tithing? For what?”

“New Monarchy is supporting the rebuild.”

“The Vanguard is funding-”

“Not all of it.” The woman barks back, a whip-crack of anger in her voice. “I had thought it would subside, because of the War,” She looks up at him, her eyes three shades paler than his, but blazing with emotion. “Food, medical supplies, water. Manual labor. Not glimmer, but even more valuable now.”

“They should have enough,” Ikora says.

Hawthorne looks at the wall across from her, eyes half lidded and stormy.  “They have factories to rebuild if they’re going to meet their contracts.” Her eyes meet Zavala’s.

He breathes sharply, eyes darting over the grain of the wood that makes the table top, grasping for something, anything he can do. “I will-”

“You didn’t know,” The woman realizes, speaking with sudden conviction. She places her other hand atop his, no longer blinded by fear. “Did you?”

“I-”

“He didn’t,” Cayde agrees immediately. “Zavala would never ever, not in a million years, ever let this go on if he knew.”

“They are trying to keep the poor poor. I do not want my grandchildren to beg for scraps like I did, like my children after me, because it is only by New Monarchy’s graciousness that we should be divvied any aid when they are the ones who take our wages and extras in the first place. They do not give us support. The Guardians, City Forces, Militia, the Clans give us support.”

The woman says, “I don’t know that they’ve ever done anything good for me or mine.” She frowns, her eyes focusing on something not present, something that exists only in her mind. Hawthorne turns and steps out of the room. “No. They’ve done one good thing for this City.” She turns her head, looks to his right, directly at Suraya. “They’ve exiled a child.”

Hawthorne’s eyes turn to steel, her fists clenched tightly at her side and she shakes her head almost imperceptibly.

“They could not.”

“They did,” She pushes.

“Impossible.”

“Not as much as you’d think,” The woman says, softer. Her withered hands squeeze his and withdraw. “That man would have the world believe you are to be our king. Certainly you know it. He tells us that you are pleased when they do well. That you are his friend - a friend of New Monarchy.” She growls, “Commander Zavala, a friend of New Monarchy is no friend of this City, not of her people, and not of me and mine. A friend of New Monarchy is that, and that alone. Even if their tenets say otherwise.”

Zavala learns. He listens and he learns and he takes to heart - even if he does try to listen objectively. This is the woman’s opinion. But she is not the only one with it, and there is no way for him to deny it holds some modicum of truth. He sees it when they return to the City streets, and the sun is setting. There is apprehension in the faces of the downtrodden, in the ones who live in the shadow of the factions, of New Monarchy. They believe him to be Hideo’s king. Belief is a powerful, terrifying thing.

-/

“That woman believed New Monarchy had the ability to exile a child,” He tells her, pacing in front of one of the still-abandoned storefronts. “The Consensus is the only governing body in this city who could exile anyone. And by no means would they ever,” He spits angrily, “EVER, exile a child. Not for murder. Not for theft. Not for anything.”

“They didn’t,” Technically, Suraya thinks.

"Then what did she mean by that?" He feels a prickle of something unpleasant, a suspicion growing in his belly.

Hawthorne shifts her weight subtly, he only catches the end of the movement, "Don't think too much about it. It's in the past."

Cool blue eyes narrow and soften all at once. "You told her that I was trustworthy," He reminds her. "That you trust me. Was that a lie?"

"You are," Hawthorne eventually says, as people pass them by.  She steps forward, back toward home, back toward the Tower.

"Tell me," He asks of her. “What did she mean? She was not a liar.”

“The child,” She sighs, shaking her head in a way that indicates she cannot believe she’s saying this, “They exiled themselves.”

“What?”

“It was that or New Monarchy would target their family. They made a choice. It was one they’d been planning to make, anyway.”

“Who.”

“It doesn’t-”

“Suraya.” His eyes burn into her with something akin to fury, compassion, heartbreak wrapped together and packed in an ultraviolet glow.

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and doesn’t answer.

He closes his eyes, and for a moment she wonders if he’s going to cry, faced with the truth. His City, his beloved, precious City failed her. “Why?”

“I’d been stealing from them, for people like these. He’d said things-” Horrible, ugly, revolting, untrue things, “-and I punched him-”

“You were a child.”

“Almost fifteen.” She takes each of his clenched fists in one of her own. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It most certainly does.”

“You’re a good man,” She says, and it breaks the undercurrent of rage in his voice, his surprise giving him pause. She offers him a tiny smile as she steps back. “You would have stopped him.”

He answers her without hesitation. “Of course!”

“I’m not upset that it happened. Not to me. Not anymore.” She looks up at the Tower, then back at the seedlings of the City reborn. “I don’t want it to happen to anyone else.”

“We can change things,” He whispers, with conviction. “I know it.”

She nods. His arm comes around her shoulders. She bars her own cross his lower back. The City expands. The Vanguard is listening. They have the Clans. It will be a fight, but things will not go back to what they had. 

“We already have.”

[redwoodrroad]

more fun oc stuff, featuring eridunis and his dad!

as well as sleepy mumblings about logan thackeray and little thoughts about his life and what he's about. it's all under the cut, and i kept out major plot things--there are a couple of major like life-altering things in heart of thorns and path of fire, so i'll vaguely reference them, and if you've played those campaigns, you'll know what im talking about, and if you haven't played it, i'll never tell ;)

youu aare my daaad--you're my dad! boogie woogie woogie!

alright so starting from when eridunis started growing up in the orphanage, logan's brother, Dylan, was the captain of the seraph, right, it's canon that he's been captain of the seraph since logan was a Youth; eridunis has most of his interactions with dylan throughout his younger life. this is kind of where..... im not quite sure about the full extent of logan's and dylan's contempt for each other? we know that dylan sees logan as.... sort of childish, dishonorable--especially since logan becomes a mercenary as a young adult (we're also not completely sure how old these guys are, so bear with me, i have thoughts about that)--and logan doesn't really have any respect for dylan either because he thinks being a queen's guard is like. snobbish? that's a pretty easy way to put it. and it feels like the age difference is really rough--if logan is a kid by the time dylan becomes a seraph, and even if we assume that dylan was reasonably young when he became a seraph--let's say 18-20, pretty standard--logan was probably somewhere around 10-12 years old, "young boy" age as he's described on the wiki. so 8-10 years is really tough on sibling dynamics, and we can't even be sure how these guys were raised because we also dont know a dang thing about their parents but it’s fine

with that in mind..... i still wanna give them the benefit of the doubt and say that once logan becomes a mercenary, they have the type of relationship where they still talk, and maybe logan comes back to divinitys reach and pays him a visit if only for sake of Trying to be like a family. they're still (human) BROTHERS, you know; if nothing else, they were probably raised to be social with each other SO i imagine that logan comes back sometimes and walks around with dylan and they idly argue about their morals

dylan, of course, keeps an eye on the salma district because these fun little orphan kids mess around and pull pranks on rich assholes who dont seem to have any patience for kids with no parents. eridunis is among those funny kids, and once he's maybe around 7-8, he starts running around the salma district and causing problems along with quinn and later riot alice (like in their teenage years more-so), and he's one that dylan really keeps a Close eye on. dylan tells logan about his issues with some of the young kids at the orphanage, and logan probably tells him off about it, like "you should care more about why those kids are acting out; you just see them as delinquents" etc; and ok back on track, eridunis meets logan when dylan takes logan to the orphanage one time, and eridunis is Obviously among the youngest there--even quinn and alice are at least a year older than him, and he's also pretty small, and he has that big mop of red curly hair, and logan is like "oh..... this kid does not deserve this life, none of them do"

so when logan comes back more often, he probably spends more time getting to know the orphans than he spends time with dylan, and they're both sort of okay with that. ofc logan has that moment of family panic when he's called back to defend jennah, and dylan dies, and he takes his place as seraph captain. so this is 1320 AE at this point: eridunis is 15, and i sort of like to imagine that logan at least fifteen years older than him, so i feel like it's pretty accurate to say he's about 30 by then.

alright this is getting friggen long enough, and i havent even really gotten to eridunis yet--eridunis really gets to know logan in those five years, and logan realizes that his earlier feelings of heartwrench for the kid may. have been misplaced. because this kid is annoying and doesnt seem to be taking logan or any seraph seriously, but logan also doesnt want to ?? arrest him??? he's a KID; he'd rather let eridunis get away with petty, silly crimes that really only disturb the peace more than anything else, because eridunis is honest enough to give logan any money he's stolen (if he's caught), it's just that he's not. learning from it lol eridunis.... around that time.... starts fooling around with quinn (and later, alice, experimentally) a little, and uh. it's not great? it's really just kids experimenting, but let me just say that he really regrets doing those very adult things so young--he's glad, at least, that he did them with people he trusts; he would have a lot more regret if he was sleeping around at that age. im sure logan catches eridunis getting frisky with quinn in an alley around 16 / 17, and he sits eridunis down in his office and is like "look, i know it's not completely appropriate for me to give you this kind of talk, im not your father, but everyone deserves to have a talk like this" and eridunis is like

"oh no"

so logan tells him all about how he matters and he wants eridunis to make good choices, all that good stuff; eridunis is >:( but he also sort of appreciates it.... he appreciates it more later, when he's older, and it's probably what holds him back from going all out as a horny youth.

i think he and logan bond more over stories logan tells about his mercenary work, and he tells eridunis about destiny's edge--albeit with some remorse, details held back, for the loss of glint and snaff and also the respect of his companions. eridunis is totally starting to look up to logan by this point, so he's like "screw all of them!! you did what you had to do!!" and logan is like "woah i mean i appreciate that, but.... eh you're probably right, rytlock was being real nasty to me so forget him" and eridunis is like "yeah, fuck him!!" and logan is like "NO--language, eridunis!"

once eridunis hits 20, we come to the personal story--eridunis is still incredibly young, but he's honing his necromancy skills (skills he started messing with when he was much younger, but he's never had a real weapon until now), and he becomes !! the hero of shaemoor! but of course he fucks up again, and this is also where i drift away from the canon a little, because i imagine that he doesn't talk to logan immediately, he goes back to the salma district to chill out, you know, steal some wallets--and he's immediately caught by the seraph Again, and this time, like i said in the other post i made about this, logan is like "i can either arrest you and put you in jail because ministers are mad, OR you can help me out with gang violence, and i can try to give you a job with the seraph."

and then we move through the personal story, and at each turn, eridunis is updating logan and excitedly telling him about his adventures. eridunis also takes plenty of opportunities to complain to logan about his new traveling partner, this agonizing magister who's snobbish and self concerned and maybe just a Little pretty--needless to say, eridunis comes back to logan's office all bashful like "youll never believe this.... i have a boyfriend. and it's arkus" and logan is instantly like "YOU CAME TO ME EVERY CHANCE YOU COULD GET TO COMPLAIN ABOUT THIS PERSON, AND NOW YOURE JUST HEAD OVER HEELS HUH" and eridunis yells back "YEAH WELL IM WEAK AND SHUT UP" but it’s all good haha

ofc eridunis helps logan fix his relationship with rytlock and the other destinys edge people, and theres just a lot of very positive father-son type things in general

and once we hit... heart of thorns......... eridunis is so worried about logan, and it adds a Lot onto his stress among.... other things. which i'll save for another post. anyway, by the time he sees logan again, logan is injured, and eridunis's fear for logan's life isn't really getting any better, but as he heals through season 3, eridunis is visiting him, writing to him, and he's so relieved when logan does heal up just fine.

once we hit path of fire, the opposite happens, and logan has a terrifying moment where he has to imagine a world without someone he really truly sees as his son, and i just imagine logan collapsing at his desk, and when taimi or canach likely contact him again with the news, he's so relieved that he just. breaks down. it’s a bad time, but it could have been way worse forever. eridunis takes some time to heal himself, and logan visits him a couple times, so thankful that he's okay

last thing i wanna say is with respect to the most recent chapter, all or nothing--eridunis is incredibly distraught as a result, and there's a moment where eridunis has to just hide from everyone in his tent, and arkus tries to take care of him, but eridunis eventually asks him to get logan, he just needs extra support from the only parental figure he's ever had. so arkus brings logan to the tent, and eridunis just..... leans against logan for a long time, cries a lot, arkus rubs his back and all that, and eventually, once eridunis calms down, logan gets to tell eridunis how much he cares about him, how he sees eridunis as a son, how he's always had an incredible amount of respect for eridunis, and okay it's very sweet but it's really making eridunis want to cry AGAIN because he sort of feels like he doesn't even deserve that respect for the mistakes he's made, but that's just how it be on this bitch of an earth, eridunis! you have a dad now, and he loves you! it means a lot for eridunis, who soon passes out and leaves arkus to chat with logan about how cool it was for logan to say all that, knowing eridunis looks up to him, and they take a moment to reminisce as father-in-law and gnc-son-in-law about the adventures so far

that's about all i have! i might go into more detail about specific moments within chapters, but this is long enough and i wanted to get it out there because im proud of the thought ive put into these boys already. i hope you enjoyed!

bonus pics!

[ocean-tumbled-pebbles]

What if Happy Internet Cafe was a Cosplay Internet Cafe?

Fanfic slightly edited from my submission for the June fanfic contest on the discord server! I now have a FFN account and AO3 pending lol. Feedback and comments welcome~

Prompt: Ye Xiu has retired from Glory and departs Excellent Era but doesn’t head to Happy Internet Cafe and become a night manager.

Summary: In which Happy is a cosplay/internet cafe, Ye Xiu is a pro player magnet, and Chen Guo is a shrewd businesswoman

Tags: All叶, allye, cosplay, crossdressing, crackfic, tw minor sexual harassment, help i dont know how chinese money works, timeline is slightly off, let’s play spot the author’s favorite anime characters

(1)

Ye Xiu leant back languidly in his chair, his arms stretching out and coming to rest behind his head. “I feel that I match all of the qualifications, and work and pay aren’t a problem. So how about it?”

Chen Guo eyed him up and down. “Stand up.”

Ye Xiu took the time to stretch out his legs before lazily getting to his feet. Chen Guo circled him like a vulture coming upon a juicy piece of meat, muttering comments to herself.

“Hmm, he’s a little bit tall, but has pretty delicate features.” She crouched down to inspect his legs. “Long legs, not too much muscle....” She circled over to look at his back side. “Hmmm...”

Suddenly Ye Xiu felt a Smack! across his buttocks.

“Um...!” Ye Xiu yelped and rubbed his abused backside.

Chen Guo covered her mouth and snickered. “Oh, you’ll do.”

“Haha..?”

“So which shift do you want?” she asked.

“Night shift is fine!” Ye Xiu figured that he’d avoid the crowds and make some extra money. He didn’t mind switching his sleep schedule and he had always been pretty good at pulling all-nighters, thinking back to his time playing Glory all night long with Su Muqiu.

“Absolutely not!”

“Oh?” Were all the night shift posts taken?

“It’d be a waste to have a good looking guy like you take the night shift! If you want a less busy time you can take either the morning or the evening shift! Pretty boys like you need their beauty sleep!” Chen Guo explained.

Ye Xiu sweatdropped. “Uhh... Okay.... I guess I’ll take the evening shift then.”

Chen Guo clapped her hands together and gestured for him to follow her. “Great! You’ll work from 4 until 10. You get a break at 7 to eat. Most customers only come to use the computers, but if they need any help or want to order food they’ll ring the service bell. We offer special service if they order from us, which is that they can request you to do something, within reason. This usually means saying a line or doing a pose, so do your best to please the customer, alright?”

“Hmm?” Ye Xiu blinked. Wait. What was that last sentence?

“We’ll start you off easy, but we’ll want to take advantage of your good genes later. We’ll let you have a trial period tonight, but you can start officially as soon as tomorrow.” She started  rummaging through a closet in the back room. She finally pulled out some folded clothing in a box that Ye Xiu assumed was the uniform. “You’re about the same height as xiao Li, so this should fit you. I’ll show you the employee locker rooms!”

In front of the locker rooms, Chen Guo shoved the clothes she was holding into his arms.

“Try it on!”

Ye Xiu looked into the box. “Uh, boss, this... is your uniform?”

“You’re chickening out now?” She smacked his back. “You signed up for this, remember? How can we be Happy Cosplay Internet Cafe, the only cosplay internet cafe in all of China, without the cosplay?!”

Ye Xiu almost choked. “Cosplay?”

Chen Guo face palmed. “Have you been paying attention to your surroundings at all? Or at least been listening to me explaining your work?”

Ye Xiu looked around. At a second glance, it turned out that all the staff were wearing costumes of some sort. He had been so focused on getting out of the cold he really hadn’t noticed it!

He’d probably give a bad impression if he admitted he hadn’t been listening to his new boss though, so he coughed and said, “I’ll go change now.”

If he came out with a slight flush in his cheeks, it was a small matter. Well, maybe not, since Chen Guo had squealed and promptly whipped out her camera and begun snapping pictures of him to post on her Weibo. She gave him a big grin and a thumbs up.

“We’ll give you proper training with wigs and make up later. Can’t wait to have you crossdress~!”

A look of horror passes over Ye Xiu’s face. Just what did he sign up for?

(2) Su Mucheng

Dancing Rain: Big bro, you doing alright?

Lord Grim: dw, I got a job!

Dancing Rain: lol who would hire you. Your only skill is gaming

Dancing Rain: you should go back to my place! I’ll provide for you, and you can be my housewife!

Lord Grim: ...

Lord Grim: that was mean.

Dancing Rain: where did you get a job?

Lord Grim: Happy Internet Cafe!

Dancing Rain: you mean that cosplay cafe across the street?

Lord Grim: ...

Dancing Rain: omg are you in cosplay rn???

Lord Grim: ...

Dancing Rain: im coming over

Lord Grim: dont.

Lord Grim: mucheng im warning you

Lord Grim: It’s an internet cafe. What if you get mobbed?

Dancing Rain: dw im good at disguises!

It turned out that Mucheng’s “disguise” consisted of a pair of glasses, a hat, and a face mask. Yup, real subtle Mucheng. Everyone was thinking that, but no one dared approach. Why would Su Mucheng even go to an internet cafe across the street from Excellent Era after all? When Chen Guo took her id card, she nearly started screaming, but was quieted by a wink and shushing finger sign. Through the power of fangirling and selfies, Mucheng was able to obtain the whole second floor to herself, as well as Ye Xiu as her personal server. He was currently dressed in a simple school blazer with a blood red wig. Mucheng was snapping pics of him left and right.

Ye Xiu sweatdropped. “You better not post these.”

“I know,” she said plainly. “These are for my personal enjoyment. Besides, I’m supposed to get a ‘special service’ with my ice cream. So keep still while I take more photos.”

Later Chen Guo dreamily asked him, “Hey, do you think Su Mucheng will come again? Should I build a private room for her? I should build a private room for her.”

Ye Xiu sweatdropped again. Hey, don’t ask me if you’ve already decided.

(3) Huang Shaotian

Tang Rou thought that Huang Shaotian was a creep when he showed up outside around 10pm and covered in scarves, so she went to go get Chen Guo.

“Old Ye!” He whisper yelled, tiptoeing through the door. “Where the hell are you?”

Ye Xiu poked him in the back and the blond puppy jumped five feet in the air. “I’m right here.”

“Shit! You’re Old Ye?!” Huang Shaotian spluttered disbelievingly. To be fair, Ye Xiu was crossdressing, but you’d think that Huang Shaotian would have noticed him.

The short flouncy skirt of the black and white school uniform dress along with the mismatching colorful socks showed off his mile long legs wonderfully, and the orange wig with green highlights had pigtails that framed his handsome face. He was taller than a real girl, with slightly sharper angles, but all in all, he looked really good crossdressing.

“How could you? After all these years of friendship, you’ve forgotten me so soon?” Ye Xiu said in mock sadness.

“Nononono! That’s not it at all! I haven’t forgotten you though maybe I should seeing as you’re an old man dressing up as a girl that is not that you’re some creep or anything but just that you’ve retired and such but I promise I haven’t forgotten you after all you’re probably my best friend after Captain and all of the Blue Rain players and - Hey! Why are you leaving?!”

Ye Xiu turned in the general direction of the word explosion and shrugged. “It’s the end of my shift. I’m going to change.” And he sauntered off toward the back room to change into more comfortable clothes.

Shaotian sneakily grabbed his phone to snag a picture. He grinned down at the photo evidence of the battle god crossdressing.

“There he is, that’s the creep!” Tang Rou had come back with Chen Guo in tow.

“F-shit! I’m not a creep! That Old Ye invited me!”

Chen Guo and Tang Rou looked at each other.  A stalker?

“I’m going to have to see your ID.”

Some selfies and monetary transactions later, Huang Shaotian and Ye Xiu were in the private room running through the plan on the boneyard record.

“Hey Old Ye, it says that if I order some food, I can get special service. I’m going to make you PK with me!”

“Not happening.” Ye Xiu refused plainly.

“Why not?! PKPKPK!”

“Because it’s not my shift.” Ye Xiu wasn’t obligated to do anything for anyone right now. He was also tired after a long day taking requests from customers and didn’t want to deal with Shaotian’s shit right now. The boss had also given him a strict bedtime of 1am at the latest and he wanted to get in all of his dungeon runs before then.

“...”

Ye Xiu suddenly felt a chill down his back. Shaotian being silent? Never a good thing.

The next day at 4 pm.

“OLD YE!” A blond fluffball came flying at Ye Xiu. Ye Xiu tumbled to the ground under the unexpected tackle.

“Oh god.”

“PKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPK!”

Six hours later...

“Boss, please kick him out.” Ye Xiu was disheveled and exhausted, pale and looking like he was about to collapse.

Chen Guo paused from counting the money Huang Shaotian had spent on reserving the private room and repeatedly ordering food with service for 6 hours. “....Hmm? What did you say?”

(3.5) All Star Weekend

“Ye Xiu! You’re really Ye Qiu?”

“...Yes.”

“Dammit! We should have charged Huang Shaotian more!”

“...”

(4) Ye Qiu

For the Lunar New Year, it turned out that Ye Qiu had found out he had retired from Excellent Era and was now working at Happy.

“Brother,” he tutted, “Come home for New Years. Do you even have a place to stay?”

“I’m going to work over time!” He just wanted to avoid going home over the holiday and play Glory all day.

“Fine, then I’m going to stay too.”

“Go home little brother. Unless... the boss has been wanting to do twin cosplays...”

“Happy New Year, I have to go attend to mother and little dot! Let me know when you’re coming back already! Bye!” In a flash, Ye Qiu was out the door.

Chen Guo came out of the back room holding a box of costumes. “Why did he leave? I had the cutest matching cosplays for you two!”

(5) Yu Wenzhou

“Captain Yu! What are you doing here?” Ye Xiu was so surprised to see Yu Wenzhou turn up one day that his half and half red and white wig almost fell off.

Yu Wenzhou was disguised in naught but a pair of dark sunglasses. Since Huang Shaotian had turned up the other time, more and more Blue Rain fans had been coming to Happy to see if they could catch a glimpse of their idol. Seeing the captain himself, of course some Yu Wenzhou fans crowded around to see if they could get an autograph. But as they approached, suddenly an ice cold aura appeared, and the fans decided it would probably be a good idea to back off.

“Hello Senior.” The blue-haired captain greeted amiably. “I came to see you in your new place of work.”

A slender hand came up to readjust his wig. “... I meant, how did you find me here?”

Yu Wenzhou smiled and merely handed him a thick wad of cash. “Let’s discuss this in the private room, shall we?”

So Ye Xiu led him up the stairs and Yu Wenzhou explained over coffee and biscuits. “Several weeks ago, Shaotian disappeared after the match with Excellent Era, and later claimed that he wanted to stay in Hangzhou for an extra day to visit family. He has no family in Hangzhou, so of course he must’ve been visiting someone other than family. He clearly lied about it, and as such it couldn’t have been anyone he would publically visit.”

He took another sip of his coffee. “The night he disappeared also happened to be the day the boneyard record was broken by Lord Grim and a swordsman Flowing Tree. Lord Grim is infamous in the tenth server with his technical skill, and he started in the tenth server around the time when you retired. Of course, I had a sneaking suspicion it was you, but Shaotian’s disappearance confirmed it. When he returned after his one day visit to ‘family’ he was in a surprisingly good mood and kept snickering at his phone. Naturally, I confisticated it and searched through the contents. Did you know he had this picture of you on it?”

He held up his phone and Ye Xiu saw that there was a picture of him crossdressing, shot from the back as he walked away to change clothes. It was slightly blurry, as it was dark, and Ye Xiu was surprised (but not that surprised) to know that Yu Wenzhou could recognize him even though the view was from the back and he had been in costume.

“That little brat!” Ye Xiu exclaimed. “Who would take advantage of such a good-looking guy like me, taking pictures of me on the sly?”

Yu Wenzhou put the picture away, ignoring the self-proclaimed ‘good-looking’ god. Ye Xiu noted that he didn’t delete the picture though. Wenzhou continued with his explanation. “When I saw this, I knew immediately that Shaotian had not gone to visit family but had rather gone to visit you at your workplace. A quick search of cosplay cafe and Hangzhou turned up this place. Did you know that this is the only cosplay internet cafe in China?”

“...Your deductive work is too scary Captain Yu.” Ye Xiu sighed. “So what did you hope to gain by coming here?”

Yu Wenzhou gave a little smile. “I was hoping to perhaps chat about some tactics and maybe play a match or two.”

Ye Xiu cracked his knuckles and began stretching out his arms in preparation. “It’ll be 100 yuan for each match, and you’ll need to buy food for any other requests.”

Yu Wenzhou tilted his head. “Hmm?”

“Boss’s rules.”

“Ah.”

(6) Zhang Xinjie and Han Wenqing

When Han Wenqing and Zhang Xinjie came to Happy Cosplay Internet Cafe one evening, they didn’t even bother disguising themselves despite being in the midst of Excellent Era territory, in fact, literally across the street from their so-called rivals.

A whisper chorus of boos echoed up from the computers. The quiet protest was quickly vanquished with the signature Han Wenqing GlareTM, resulting in the offenders groveling on the floor, offering their wallets as penitence.

All the commotion brought Chen Guo over. She reflexively wanted to jump back when he turned his gaze to her, but she held her ground and offered, “What can Happy Cosplay Internet Cafe do for you today, God Han, God Zhang?”

“Where’s Ye Qiu?”

Zhang Xinjie smoothed out the conversation. “We would like to rent out the private room and talk with Senior Ye if possible.”

“It’s 200 yuan per match and you need to order food for any other requests. The private room has a lock. Ye Xiu can let you in.”

Han Wenqing picked up a wallet off the floor, and dropped it on the counter, much to the dismay of one unfortunate booer.

“Yo Old Han.” Today Ye Xiu was dressed in a cute sailor themed idol costume with a long dark colored wig. He gave a mock salute. “Never thought I’d see the two of you here in a cosplay cafe in Excellent Era territory no less.”

“Never thought I’d see you here crossplaying at an internet cafe across the street from Excellent Era after having retired no less,” the older player spat back.

“Let’s go upstairs and fight in the arena instead of in the lobby, Captain, Senior.”

Ye Xiu laughed and led the two of them to the stairs. “You first.”

Zhang Xinjie, feeling that it was out of character for Ye Xiu to be polite asked, “Why don’t you go first, senior?”

“Gasp, Xiao Zhang! How perverted! You want to peek under my skirt as I go up the stairs, don’t you?”

Xinjie turned all shades of red and blurted, “That wasn’t it at all!”

Han Wenqing was not amused. “If we wanted a peek we would just lift it up. Now show me that unspecialized character of yours.” He began pushing Ye Xiu up the stairs.

“Ooh how brazen, Old Han.”

(7) Tiny Herb

Business at Happy was booming. Not only was Chen Guo obtaining more business from users hoping to see their favorite pro player, but she was able to charge the visiting pro players exorbitant amounts and they would gladly pay to play with Ye Xiu. Using the extra money, Chen Guo was able to upgrade the private room upstairs to include a full row of new computers and a comfy couch and coffee table.

The upgrades were a good investment. How else would the entire Tiny Herb pro team be able to fit comfortably into the room?

“Order whatever food you want. The club will pay for it. Don’t forget to think of your requests. You can ask him to do anything reasonable, so make sure you learn from this opportunity.”

“Yes Captain!”

Ye Xiu sighed. Today he was wearing a black and white sailor style girl’s school uniform, along with a short brown wig and white cap. He also had a staff and a stuffed animal to complete the cosplay, but they were too annoying to carry around while playing. “I left Excellent Era so that I didn’t have to be a training partner...” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that senior?” Wang Jiexi blinked his uneven eyes.

“Nothing, nothing. Just a reminder that it’s 300 yuan per person per match and that I require a break between matches. Oh, I know. While you’re waiting for me, you can fight Xiao Tang. I’m coaching her!” He gave a big thumbs up.

The whole ordeal was like one huge party with food and fun and Glory. Tang Rou despite getting utterly smashed bravely continued to fight, earning the respect of Tiny Herb. Ye Xiu then proceeded to crush them all in return. It was a bit depressing to think that all of them combined had still been trounced by a single guy dressed like an elementary school girl.

“Thank you Senior Ye!” exclaimed one Gao Yingjie on the way out.

“Yes. Thank you for your guidance Senior Ye. I hope to be like you someday.” echoed Qiao Yifan.

Ye Xiu patted both on the head. It was nice to see rookies with such enthusiasm. “You two have a lot to learn, but you also have a lot of potential. Keep working hard. And Yifan, why don’t you think about what I said?”

‘Why don’t you try out a Ghostblade! It would suit you!’ Yifan kept thinking of this phrase over and over again walking out of the internet cafe, such that he almost bumped into Chen Guo.

“Woah! Careful there.” She steadied him on his feet. “You know, you’re pretty cute.” Chen Guo handed Yifan a business card. “If you ever need a job or even a side job, you should contact me! I have some cute cosplays that would be perfect for you!”

Yifan almost choked. When he said he wanted to be like Senior Ye, he didn’t mean it that way!

(8) Jiang Botao

“So what brings you here by yourself?”

“Senior Ye! Please grant me a request!” Jiang Botao bowed deeply at a 90 degree angle.

“No need to be so formal,” Ye Xiu laughed. “As long as you buy something from here, I’ll be willing to hear you out.”

Jiang Botao ordered a What a Big One ice cream cone. “Sooo...” he started nervously, “ummm.... Please... Allow me to record a message from you to captain!”

“Oh? To Xiao Zhou? What would you like me to say?”

“Please say, ‘Zhou Zekai, Jiayou!’ a-and then umm, please blow a kiss!”

“Hoho? Well, alright get your camera ready!”

Jiang Botao aimed the camera at him portrait-wise, making sure to capture the full picture of Ye Xiu in a purple accented swimsuit and blue and white jacket covering his shirtless torso. He didn’t need a wig this time, but settled for some styling with gel to achieve the character’s likeness.

Ye Xiu grinned, not caring that it was out of character for the cosplay. “Xiao Zhou, Jiayou! Keep working hard!” He winked saucily and blew a kiss.

Jiang Botao was so grateful he kept thanking Ye Xiu over and over again and insisted on giving him extra cash. “For the wink! Please keep it for the wink!”

Later...

“Captain! Please make an effort to connect more with the rookies! They’re all intimidated by your silence!”

“...”

“If you coordinate well with them and get into the playoffs I’ll give you this!” Jiang Botao pressed a button on his phone, playing the video.

“Xiao Zhou, Jiayou! Keep working hard!” *Wink* *kiss*

Zhou Zekai stared at the little screen. “Want... Senior...”

“If you want it, please make an effort to get along!”

Zhou Zekai nodded emphatically.

“If we do well this season, we can go visit him later!”

Zhou Zekai was already walking out the door.

(9) Happy

“God Ye! Is it true that you initially worked as a staff member for Happy Internet Cafe?” Cameras flashed during the press conference following the Challenger League.

Chen Guo butted in, “It’s Happy Cosplay Internet Cafe. Get your facts right!”

“God Ye! Is it true that you engaged in crossplay?”

“It’s not that bad when you get used to it! Besides, my boss says I should show off my ‘legs for days.’”

“God Ye! Is it true that the other members of Happy cosplay as well?”

Chen Guo again interrupted. “At this time I would like to announce the limited edition release of our new cosplay photobook. It includes both group and individual cosplay photos of all of Team Happy. This limited edition will also include a section of Captain Ye’s best cosplays and a new cosplay as One Autumn Leaf. The photobooks will be on sale starting at midnight tonight and will cost 800 yuan. Proceeds will go to the development of Team Happy and also Ye Xiu’s costume repertoire. Thank you for your patronage.”

All the reporters gossipped among themselves. The males complained it was way too expensive, more than double the price of other costume books, but were quite sorely tempted by the One Autumn Leaf photo. The females wanted to see those legs for days.

The clubs were some of the first to buy the books when they came on sale. When questioned why they wanted to help the enemy the teams merely said, for research. Yeah, for research.

And so, Team Happy became the most influential team in the alliance for the sole reason of Ye Xiu fangirling.

//End notes:  *sweating* Yeah this totally fits the prompt. “Ye Xiu has retired from Glory and departs Excellent Era but doesn’t head to Happy Internet Cafe and become a night manager.” Hahaha *runs away*//

[lgbt-malec]

for @warlockragnors prompt:  idk ngl i could get behind a post 2.18 thing where to seal the rift magnus has to summon asmodeus to help and then has to give up the thing he cares most about (because REASONS) to seal it and so magnus gives up his memories of alec to save him and everything else happens kinda the same so alec still feels jace die and magnus for some reason can't stand to watch this random shadowhunter in pain aND LIKE THE OMAMORI CHARM CAN GIVE HIM FEELS TOO and somehow this ends happy. this really got away from me

(forgive me i dont know much about asmodeus okay so if this is shit then just lmk and i’ll write something else okay) ((also it’s so long it’s like 2k words sjfjdjf)

Magnus had been pacing in his living room for nearly two hours, yet he still hadn’t reached a decision yet. He knew the consequences of this, and that it would not turn out well for him, but after Alec had come by this morning asking for him to shut the rift, he knew he had to go to desperate measures. He finally sat down in the blue, velvet chair that was next to his glass coffee table and summoned a glass of some mixed drink to him with a snap of his fingers. He brought the glass to his lips and took a long drink, his eyes shut as he drank nearly half of the glass in just a few seconds. He set the glass down onto a coaster on the glass table and took a deep breath before he stood up once more. He walked out of the living room and into his office, which was rather large. It was maybe a square foot or two smaller than his living area, but it was where he met most of his clients so it needed to be rather large to fit everything he needed.

He walked to the middle of the room, a pentagram already drawn out from earlier when he originally was going to do this. He had moved most of the breakable things away from the center of the room, apart from the chandelier hanging down from the ceiling over the pentagram. Magnus rubbed his hands against each other, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration as he muttered some words under his breath, his eyes squeezed shut as he moved his hands about in a slow manner, beginning the summoning ritual. He spent a few moments doing this, not wanting to rush anything, but he said the last words of the ritual loudly, so loud that they rang throughout the entire apartment. “I summon thee, Asmodeus, a Greater Demon and Prince of Hell.” With those final words, the lights in his apartment flickered and turned off completely for a minute or two, and Magnus felt the presence of the demon, of his father. The lights in his apartment turned back on, and he felt chills down his spine when he saw Asmodeus in front of him.

“Son. Thought you’d never call. Though, if you would have just asked me to come, I would have. No need for,” with a wave of Asmodeus’ hand, he broke the pentagram and sent Magnus backwards, so that the warlock’s back was pressed against the wall, “this mess. You should have known better, however. Summoning me means that you need something.” Asmodeus’ words were cold, no warmth available anywhere in his tone, and his eyes were nearly black. His suit was a dark black, with red lining on the cuffs and the collar, a red tie matching the small detailed lining. His button up shirt underneath was a dark grey, with red buttons, bringing the whole look together. He had a clean shaven face, apart from a smooth, even beard lining his jaw and his chin. His hair was gelled up, in a similar style to Magnus’, but not as long, the sides weren’t shaven either, they were the same length as the top, but gelled down. His hair also wasn’t pure black, like Magnus’ natural hair, instead it was black with grey highlights in it, not enough to age him too much, but making him appear more mature.

He stepped over to where Magnus was still pressed against the wall and brought his hand up to his son’s face, gripping his jaw as he turned Magnus’ head side to side, taking in how his son looked. His face lacked emotion, but he let out a dry laugh as he let go of both Magnus’ jaw and the way he was using his demon power to hold Magnus against the wall. Magnus nearly fell to the floor but held himself up, not daring to look at Asmodeus yet.

“You’re.. Different. Who came into your life and changed you?” Asmodeus walked around the office, running his fingers over some surfaces, humming while he awaited a response.

“That isn’t what I called you here to speak about. I need your help.” The second half of his sentence was soft, nearly a whisper. Magnus knew the consequences of asking for help, but he couldn’t just let asmodei keep coming into the mortal world. It wasn’t fair to any mundanes or even the Shadowhunters. Or any Downworlders who would be affected.

Asmodeus grinned slyly, turning to face Magnus, a devilish glint in his eyes. “You know what I’ll require. It’s the same thing I required the last time we spoke.”

Magnus’ strong facade faltered. “I-” He took a deep breath, shaking his head before he spoke again. “Okay. Let’s do this then.”

“Magnus!” “Magnus!” Alec was running towards Magnus, who’s back was still turned to him while he was sealing the rift between Edom and the mundane world. Magnus had been ignoring Alec since this morning, and while it hurt Alec greatly, he couldn’t blame him. He’d lied to Magnus. But now he was really in danger, this asmodei was flying towards him and he was terrified. “Magnus!”

Magnus couldn’t figure out why this Shadowhunter kept screaming his name, but right as he was nearly finished with sealing the rift, he heard his name screamed again, but this time it brought out a feeling in him and without even thinking twice, he turned and used the red magic in his hands to smite the demon coming towards the Shadowhunter, then turned to finally finish sealing the rift. He collapsed to the ground; the magic that he had used had been a combination of his and the power his father had given him, and he was exhausted. He laid there for a few moments, then felt a hand on his shoulder. He shook it off, looking incredulously at the Shadowhunter who looked, if he wasn’t mistaken, concerned.

Alec sighed in relief when Magnus looked at him again, but couldn’t stop the hurt look crossing his features when Magnus shrugged his hand off of his shoulder. He mumbled an apology, chewing on his lower lip as he stood up and looked around. There wasn’t an asmodei in sight and it looked like Magnus had successfully sealed the rift. “Thank you, Magnus. Now we’ve got one less thing to worry about.” His tone wasn’t cold, he knew Magnus was angry, but he still loved Magnus and he wanted his words to portray that if he couldn’t do it with his actions.

“Odd for a Shadowhunter to thank a Downworlder, especially coming from a Lightwood.” Magnus couldn’t help but see the actual hurt on the Shadowhunter’s face, how there were tears welling up in the light, hazel eyes of the tall man, and he felt a pang in his own heart. It brought on confusion, because he didn’t know this Shadowhunter, he didn’t like Nephilim, yet he felt hurt by the pain on this man’s face. He turned and saw a hurt expression on the female’s face as well as anger, yet he brushed it off and opened a portal for the three of them and he was the first to step through.

Magnus stood in front of one of the screens in the Institute, and he was still so confused on why the Nephilim here were being so friendly to him, he didn’t know any of them, and the ones he did know, he had never been friendly with them. He stood in his spot, confusion clouding his thoughts as he read over the reports from the damage that the asmodei did. He briefly heard both Shadowhunters he was with at the beach earlier speaking about something, mentioning someone named Jace and then Clary.  “I’m sorry to interrupt. But I heard you mention Clary? As in Clary Fairchild? Why is she in Idris?” Magnus automatically recognized the odd looks that both of the Nephilim in front of him gave him but before either could answer, the taller of the two doubled over in pain, a loud yelp escaping his lips.

“Alec! What’s wrong?” Isabelle rushed to Alec’s side, kneeling down as he’d fallen on the floor, a pained expression on his face. He was hunched over in pain, his eyes squeezed shut, and all he could muster was a quick, mumbled word before he slouched against Isabelle, yelling out in pain.

“It’s- ah!” He held his side, where his parabatai rune was, and he had flashbacks of everything he and Jace had ever done together, every mission, every emotion he’d ever felt, how he loved his brother, how his brother loved him, and when he was brought back to the present, he breathed out the rest of his sentence, his heart aching in his chest. “It’s Jace. He’s dead.”

Hearing those words, and the way that the Shadowhunter- Alec- had said them, brought a pain to Magnus’ heart again. He didn’t know what else to do but drop to his knees next to Alec and rest his hand on his shoulder. What he wasn’t expecting was for Alec to reach up with one of his own hands and grip Magnus’ hand, and he wasn’t expecting for the Nephilim to look at him with so much pain but also so much love. He was taken aback and he didn’t know what else to do but to whisper soothing words to the Shadowhunter. He didn’t know why, he didn’t care for Shadowhunters like this, but he felt the need to comfort this man in front of him. “Hey, it’s alright. It’ll be okay. I don’t- you’re okay. We’ll fix this. I promise.” He let the Shadowhunter’s grip on his hand tighten, and when tears started falling down Alec’s face, he couldn’t resist himself when he brought his free hand up to wipe away the tears that were leaving trails on the man's face.

Magnus paced back and forth in his office, the events of the day bringing so much damn confusion, but he needed to figure it out. He’d been invited to a party at the Hunter’s Moon tonight and he knew all of the downworlders that were going, but Alec had invited him, and he didn’t even RECOGNIZE the man. He felt something in his pocket, and when he looked down, it was practically GLOWING. He reached his hand into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around a small object, and he pulled it out. He felt like a brick wall had hit him in the face when he pulled the object out to look at it. A thousand memories came at him at one hundred miles an hour, and he heard a voice in the back of his head. It was Alexander’s voice.

“Seventeen? That’s not- wait. Seventeen… hundred?” “Seventeen thousand?”

“I couldn’t ever have what I wanted. Until you came along.”

“I hear relationships take effort.” “Well, I’m all for effort.”

“Magnus- I- I love you.” “I love you too, Alexander.”

“This is the fourth morning I’ve woken up to an empty bed.”

“There is nothing ugly about you.”

“Magnus, they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

“The key to having no fear is having nothing to lose.” “And then I met you.”

Magnus felt tears falling down his face, his grip tight on the omamori charm in his hand, and he collapsed on the floor. The tears were tears of happiness. He was thrilled he could actually remember. He couldn’t imagine a life where he never met Alexander. How could he have ever forgotten his Alexander?

[yovngho]

johnny + 3 please?

“You came back.” send a number + member for a drabble ☼ 

this one is an au. I hope this is okay but if you dont like it feel free to request again! mentions of blood + death

also this is so long its a damn scenario im sorry dfgddhdhg

You knew there was no stopping him. You didn’t try and you didn’t want to either. This had been his dream for so long it would have been selfish of you to hold him back. “When I come back,” he told you one night, “I’ll take you to see the world. We can rest on the beaches and walk through the most beautiful meadows we hear about in songs and stories.” His eyes would light up talking about the adventures the two of you would have outside of the kingdom. He pulled you closer to his side, rough tunic scratching your face gently as a reminder that he was still there with you. 

The day he left for battle, you had helped him dress in his armour. You had your own post to attend in the late morning which would allow you enough time to watch him and the other officers leave. He held you so close the metal detailings on his chest plate pushed into you uncomfortably, but you couldn’t find yourself to care. Youngho pulled away, eyes full of tears and hope. “I’ll be back in a month or two don’t you worry.” His hands found your face, taking the time to memorise every feature of your face. “I love you.” He reminded you.

“I love you too.” You told him, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “You make sure you bring yourself home. I’ll be waiting for you.” Your lips met again, desperate to savour the last few moments you may ever have together. You tried to act like this might not be the last time you see him. Like he wasn’t going into battle against one of the strongest forces on land. “Do you still have my token?”

He huffed out a laugh at that. “As If I’d ever let it off my person.” His fingers reached into his chest piece to reveal a scrap of dark fabric. It had once been part of your tunic but ripped off the night you first declared your love for one another. A token to remind him you’re always in his heart. You’d been so desperate to prove to him you’d ripped the material right off your sleeve. It perhaps wasn’t the most elegant option, but it brought a blinding smile to his face. Your body melded into his that night, solidifying the bond already formed between you two. “I keep it with me always.”

He stuffed it back into its holding as a horn echoed through the courtyard. It tugged at your heart and you knew that was it. You walked with him to his horse, putting on a brave face for him because you knew he couldn’t cry then. He kissed you again, languid as he could be in the time frame given, savouring your taste. “Stay safe, my love.” 

You scoffed at him, “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” He mounted his horse with grace before sending a smile your way.

“You have many times, my dear.” Horses started to amble in the direction of battle and you both knew had to join them. “I love you.” He said again, grasping your hand tightly. “But don’t worry, two months will fly by and you’ll be sick of my face again in no time.”

He’s declared dead a month later. A raven made it’s way back to the keep stating their army was slaughtered by the enemy. Fewer than thirty men of the five hundred sent survived to their knowledge and had begun their journey back south as they sent word. Everyone one else was declared missing, which was the word they used to ease grieving widows. Two of the soldiers who had returned from the battle were recounting the massacre that happened. Partners and children howled and screamed in heartbreak and loss for parents, spouses and lovers. You stayed still. Lower jaw shaking. Vision blurred with tears. You don’t move to wipe them. You just stand there, listening to the chaos around you and all you can picture is his smile. You picture his smile vanishing as a sword pushes into his stomach, taking the light from his eyes as blood starts to- You stop yourself. It’s not worth thinking about. 

It’s foolish, but you even months later you can’t accept the reality. You half expect him to surprise you at the mill or, maybe you’ll wake up with him beside you again. You push yourself out of bed, wiping the wetness from your face and know you have to start moving forward. The road to acceptance will be a slow and painful one, you know this. But you also know Youngho will always stay in your heart no matter what. 

It’s been six months since he left. You’re spending the day revisiting important places to you and Youngho. The market stall where you met, the stables where you’d meet at night, the lake where you’d frequently picnic. You’re at the pasture where you’d spent countless nights together looking up at the stars in each other’s arms. He was such a romantic, you remember fondly. The horses are grazing so you lean on the fence so as not to disturb them when the two children from the farmhouse come careening into view hollering loudly to their parents. 

“Quickly mum, Renjun might be with them!” You hear the youngest boy call. You knew Renjun vaguely. He was one of the youngest of the troops Youngho was deployed with. Wait… “C’mon! Let’s go greet them!” The two kids run ahead of their parents who walk cautiously behind and you decide to follow them to see what was happening. You want to ignore the tightness in your chest hoping to see your Youngho again, but in the back of your mind you can’t help but think what if. 

The gates to the city are open wide, those who were tending to their shops have stepped out to investigate and a crowd forms around the courtyard. You hear a trumpet sound and they start filing through the gates. Almost a hundred soldiers stumble through, welcomed home by the thunderous applause and cheers from the crowd. You stay off to the side, scanning the soldiers for any familiar faces. Several men were limping, being supported, or carried by their peers. A female officer burst forward from the crowd, beelining to her family to find herself enveloped in hugs. You watch the encounter with a soft smile on your face. Today was a day to celebrate. When you turn back, the gate has closed and for the briefest moment, you think you see him holding up a friend but then the crowd is clustering around the soldiers making their way to the infirmary and he’s gone again. 

You slap yourself gently to calm yourself down and decide to head to the stall earlier than expected. You worked at the food stall in the main market (which is where you had first met Youngho) with Joohyun. As you turn the corner, you see her chatting happily with a customer, their back facing you. You sigh, mentally preparing yourself to deal with people in your less than stable state. Joohyun breaks into a smile seeing you approach and the customer follows her gaze to see what she’s looking at.

You stop as your eyes meet his and you feel like the whole world is freezing and collapsing around you. There’s blood and dirt caking his face. His hair sticks to his scalp and forehead. There are bags under his eyes peeking through the grime coating his face, but his dazzling smile cuts through it all. You don’t realise you’re sobbing until he scoops you in his arms, fingers wiping away at your tears. Shaking your head in disbelief you reach up to trace the contours of his face carefully. “This isn’t real.” You tell yourself. You’ve really lost it now, imagining he’s in front of you.

“I’m here. I’m real.” He tells you, brow furrowed unsure how to comfort you. Youngho rests his forehead against yours before taking your hand. He places it over his heart. “See, I’m here.”

His heart beat hits where your hand rests on his chest and you look up into his eyes as acceptance overwhelms you. “You came back.” It’s not a question. A statement because he’s alive and he’s with you again and all the sadness that possessed you for six months disappears to the back of your mind.

He kisses you, desperate and needy like a man drowning. “I came back.”

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, millaraysuyai!

August 10 - Daisy/Logan where they are soulmates but he rejected her for jean and the come back to her when jean goes to cyclops but she is like “nope i dont need you now” for millaraysuyai

Written by @backwardsandinhighheels

“Keep your head down!”

Skye barely registered the building collapsing behind her or the body shielding hers from the debris as the gruff words reverberated around her skull. When the world stopped shaking, she looked up at the speaker. Big and buff as hell, with long metal claws extending from his hands, he was already up and looking around them, a frown on his rugged features. He must be part of that other team Coulson had mentioned asking for assistance, the one with powers.

She touched his arm to get his attention - no point risking a missed connection, not when she’d been planning what to say ever since she learned to read.

“Thanks for saving me. I always thought it was an auspicious start.”

It came out perfectly - early drafts hadn’t included auspicious, but she felt it fit.

He looked over at her, dark gaze flicking across her face. “Sorry, not interested.”

With that, he turned back to scanning the streets as her mouth dropped open. “But- but you said my words! You’re my-”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not in the market for a soulmate.”

Skye gaped, one unthinking hand rubbing at the words on her side as he loped away, towards the sound of fighting. Only when he was out of view did she let herself sink back, hot tears pricking at her eyes. First her parents, now her soulmate. What was so wrong with her she wasn’t enough for any of them?

“Skye? Skye, report.”

She jumped and remembered her communicator, taking a second to make sure her voice was steady before she spoke. “I’m fine, May. I wasn’t in the building when it came down.” Gritting her teeth, she turned back to the mission. If she kicked a brick or two in helpless frustration, well, no-one was there to notice.

With the unexpected help, it was over quickly. Soon, the two teams were gathered to be introduced properly. Though she tried to concentrate, all Skye could remember was that her soulmate was introduced as Logan, and while his gaze skated over her with barely a nod of acknowledgement, it lingered on a redhead standing beside their leader.

She begged off post-mission and new-allies celebrations with a headache. It wasn’t totally a lie: by the time they got back to the Bus, there was an insistent pounding somewhere behind her eyes. She made her way to her cubby: not much more than a foldout bed but dim and soundproof. In its privacy, she finally allowed herself to cry.

At a light tapping on the door, she scrubbed one hand across her face and hit the door release, heart in her throat. It sank to her toes when the silhouette revealed was too small to be Logan.

“I brought you a painkiller,” Jemma said, offering her a pill and a bottle of water. “I- are you crying?”

“Not anymore.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “Thanks for the painkiller.”

“No problem. I’ll tell the others not to bother you.”

As promised, no-one else came to check on her, not even the one she wanted.

~~~

He didn’t message her, either, after they returned to their respective bases, and though she sent a tentative offer of friendship to the email address she hacked into their system to get, he never replied. She sent a few more to various addresses and accounts, not proud of the pleading tone the last few took, until a curt ‘please stop emailing’ halted them in their tracks.

She would’ve been proud of finally provoking him to a response if it hadn’t hurt so much, if subsequent emails hadn’t met an apathetic silence.

Days turned into weeks turned into months, and finally she stopped waiting. She found her father, and her mother, and then lost them both. She gained powers and it occurred to her that with them, she could probably join the X-Men, if she wanted.

She didn’t.

When Jean Grey married Scott Summers on the grounds of the Xavier Institute, the Agents of SHIELD and her own fledgling team of Inhumans were in attendance. Officially, SHIELD didn’t exist. Then again, neither did the X-Men. There was a nice sort of symmetry about that.

The ceremony was short and touching, and Daisy spent the entire time ignoring the man watching her from across the aisle. As soon as the happy couple reached the last row of seats, she was out of her seat, using her size to slip through the crowd and to the front of the quickly-growing reception line.

Scott took her congratulations with a smile and offered his own on her new team; Jean gave her an odd look but was quickly distracted by the next people in line. Duty done, she found Mack and Elena and glued herself to their sides right through the reception dinner.

~~~

“No way!” Lincoln exclaimed, as Shadowcat stuck her hand through his shoulder. Distracted by their byplay, she didn’t notice the hulking shadow until he stood at her shoulder.

“Skye…”

“It’s Daisy,” she corrected. “And you know what? Don’t even bother.”

He paused. “Is there someone else?”

She shook her head. “No. But someday there might be. And I deserve better than a man who would reject me out of hand for a woman who is in love with another man.”

“But-”

“I’m nobody’s second choice, Logan.”

“I wanted to - to apologise.”

“Great. You can go now.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw his shoulders slump. Once again, he walked away; this time, she didn’t watch him go. Instead, her own name caught her attention

“And Daisy can - hey Daisy, come and show Kitty what you can do.”

Smiling, Daisy went to join her friends.

[staticdecay-blog]

Post 3 - Reasonably Certain

Have you ever noticed how tall a flag pole at school really is? Looking up from its bottom, when you sit at it, it can make you feel similar to how the cosmos does: small and finite. It seems to reach forever, and sitting at its base, watching the autumn sky turn shades of orange and fade to dark, I might have wondered if any tongues were ever stuck to this pole on some ridiculous childhood bet or dare......

My spine crushed up against the shining metal giant, my head crushed in to my knees and I watered any secret flowers in the ground with tears. I didn't want to be here. It felt like hours had passed, actually it felt like years had passed and that is because hours actually HAD passed, which brought the tide of the student body from the cleared cafeteria of the local high school to the courtyard waiting area, where parents had already been waiting to pick up their shining little stars.

Eventually I heard a car slow down, and stop in front of me. I didn't have to look up to know it was my families car...just as any person can learn the sound of their own car, you pick out the little nuances in its sputters, squels, and clunks......or maybe you only do that when you are one of the only families with a car manifesting those discernible and audible traits......

I didnt want to look up, I didn't want to get up. As much as I hated facing the student body and the torment they brought to me, I hated facing my mother even more because I knew I broke her heart. I was one of her greatest joys but to everybody else besides my father and maybe brother, I was nothing but a joke and punchline......I didn't want to have the conversation, I didn't want to be right, and I didn't want to compete in a crying contest......

It was 1994, October and I was 13, going on 14 years old. I was in 9th grade which had just started the prior month, but for me it was the same as 8th grade, which was the same as 7th grade, which was the same as 6th grade: that is I got punched everyday, shoved, spit on, and called faggot at least 100 times...everyday.

There was a girl that had transferred to our school and her name was Kayla. She had wonderfully wavy auburn hair that fell to just below her shoulders, and a pale face with soft features, and lips thatdefy description. I remember her laugh, hearing it in the hallways or classrooms. She was beautiful to me, and to most people, and she gave off an air of innocence, like she would not harm anything.

Kayla had no trouble adjusting to this new school system and was already, in the less than 2 months she had been there, surrounded with friends who were both boys and girls.

Now, there is a neccessity I find, for somebody faced with atrocity to put themselves in a fantasy world in order to process and make it through the harsh reality they face. Kayla was my fantasy in those times. Not sexually, I had not reached that point yet. This fantasy centered solely around the idea that she would be different, that she would NOT call me a faggot, or point at me and sneer, and laugh with her friends. I fantasized that she would talk to her friends and make them relent the torture they put me through. And most of all, I fantasized that Kayla would actually talk to ME, and that we would be friends forever.

There was a homecoming dance approaching and though 9th grade dances, I am told decades later, dont mean anything, to the 9th grader version of me it meant a lot of things. It meant dread, and it marked perhaps the first time my delusional and wanton love propelled some fantasy, which put me in harms way.

I suppose it didn't help that my mother forced me to go.

It's not that she was malicious, she was not. Quite the contrary. My mom believed in attrition, and she came from a pretty moral, catholic polish upbringing. Turn the other cheek was a big concept for her. I remember her telling me how I could not let those kids see that I was being bothered by them, that if I just acted like nothing was wrong, and I let it roll off me, that it would pass eventually.

I would find later in life that this tactic does have its place, in fact it can be both a miracle and a nuclear bomb to somebody. During this time in my life though it was nothing but emaciating......hindsight is bitch but its always 20/20......

I fought as hard as I could to not go to this dance because I knew what awaited me beyond the assault of "you never know if you dont try" that I was being subjected to, and would fire off like a machine gun in the trench warfare that would be my life. There are some things that are reasonably certain: that the sun is going to rise for the rest of the days I am alive and that you are alive; that someday I am going to die and so will you; that pizza is universally great (except the cardboard-like pizzaposter they served in school lunches...that was nasty....though again, hindsight...) and that the kid who had been getting beaten and called faggot everyday of his life for the last three or so years and had zero friends or social skills, was going to be anything BUT the laghing stock and joke of this school dance.

Maybe not guaranteed, but most definitely reasonably certain.

Parents are always correct and I was on my way to the dance. I remember the shirt I wore, it was this long sleeve button up, with metal snap buttons. It was a blue/grey and it had a colorful stripe pattern that was not obnoxious, but certainly was not setting the paris runways ablaze either. I thought it was cool and I liked it.

In the car I started to escape in to my fantasy world, where Kayla would notice me, that THIS would be the night. I got a lot crammed in to this fantasy in the 10 minutes it took to deposit me in front of the entrance to the school.

After getting out of the car with the information that my mother would be back in about 3 hours, I looked at the entrance to the school, which resembled exactly how the house in Night of the Demons looks when the characters first arrive for the party. It looked overwhelming, scary, and unwelcoming.

The sidewalk was wide and was poured with that really white cement, and it would narrow to where the doors gave entrance to the main hallway of the high school. As you would walk up this sidewalk, the cafeteria was on the left, and before I even started walking I could see the crystal ball, the lights, the decorations, and the numerous girls and boys.

The dread I felt to walk up that sidewalk, and expose myself to the student body was immeasurable. Imagine a sniper who has wounded you, but you have taken refuge behind good cover. However, you know to go anywhere, you have to leave said cover, and you know that is certain death. That is pretty close, I imagine, to how I felt in this moment.

I warred with myself to move my feet, and slowly I watched them take one step, then another. I somehow picked my eyes up, looked in, and scanned the place. I would try so hard to project the thought and energy that I was cool, that I was worth knowing. This projection would get smothered and obliterated as soon as my presence became known. I would nod at somebody, smile, and say "whats up?" like we were buddies, nd I would get a response that insinuated that I wanted to suck their dick, and then laughter from the person and any of their friends.

Though numerically speaking, in terms of feet and inches or meters, it was shorter than the walk up the sidewalk, It was an even longer walk across the cafeteria/dance floor to where I would try to stand and blend in and wait for a girl to ask me to dance. I got myself a cup of orange drink and stood among the other boys.

The first remark I heard was from a kid who told his friend to not stand with his back toward me because I would try to fuck him. The friend turned around laughed, and told me "back up faggot."

More similar comments  came my way until I was standing in the corner by myself, looking mostly at the ground and having already gave up on the orange drink. I looked up at some point and I saw Kayla across the cafeteria, she was with a few people. I longed so badly to talk with her, for her to just notice me....to dance with me.

I saw one of her friends look at me, laugh, then the other friends looked at me, at which point I cast my gaze back to my generic brand pump sneaker. I dont know if Kayla laughed at me or not, or if she even looked at me. In my mind I was not even worth her looking at to mock.

I could not hold on to the fantasy, and I felt it slip away with each beat of the song that was playing. Kids had started dancing with each other and before everyone was paired up, I received a shower of some ice which had been thrown my way by an upper classman. There were a few girls who did not have dance partners, but I was not worthy because to dance with me, to even talk to me, would have gotten them thrown from their social circle. So instead they snickered, laughed, occasionally gazed at me while doing so.

Again...not certain they were talking or joking about me...but reasonably certain.

Before the song was over, I made an even more awkward walk back across the cafeteria to the door. More than one person remarked about having to watch out for the faggot, protect their date from the faggot. In a surprise turn of events, there was not nearly as much physical pushing or tripping as I expected.

I walked out the door, back in to the hallway, and then back outside and tp the flag pole.

I collapsed under it and though the sky was mostly clear in its dusk, a rain flooded down my face. Just like any storm it came in waves over the next couple of hours. I would cry myself out then just sit, feeling the rapidly cooling and darkening air, and then I would have another wave of tears, sobs, and heavy breathing.

The fantasy crept back in, that Kayla would come out and see how much I was hurting, how I was alone. She would put her hand on mine, and her arm would entwine through mine and we would watch the burning sky. She would dry the tears and be the rainbow that came after the rains.

Shortly after the fantasy started it dissolved in to replaying the loop of the last 20-30 minutes, and wondering when my mom would get there. I tried to break up the loop by projecting my thoughts to my mom, hoping she would hear them and come to the rescue. Just like Kayla however, they never reached her, and I waited under that flag pole for about 2 hours.

Unlike Kayla, my mother eventually came and before any words were spoken in the car, I knew her regret. I saw it on her face, I felt her painful energy. I don't think we spoke much on the ride home. There was not much to say, but anybody who would have seen us, or would have been in the car, even near an opened window of it, would have felt that heavy energy of sorrow pour from that car, like a fog in those old science fiction and horror films I escaped to.

I can say that with pretty reasonable certainty.