#or alternatively cause im english

[fastofthekillones]

19

I'm just going to pin this post and use it to find weird tags that I have inexplicably written on something, mostly for my own gratification, but if any of you wonderful weirdos wanna look, feel free

[echoesofadream]

i dont trust any big scale production of animal products but i think free range organic eggs is the best i can do cause i dont know anyone with hens that can sell me eggs on a regular basis. That would be good though if i could get in contact with a small hen farm. Also are eggs bad for you im only doing this if its good for my body nothing else

[arxiel]

i had a fanfic idea...

Im sorry if my english is... bad but my natal language is spanish maybe had some errors

This is the idea, this is an alternate vision of the game, it tells the events seen by Rolan and there will also be some changes that will be noticed if you have played....

WIP

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

--Rolan! We'd all be grateful if you'd move a finger for us.-- said Lia, annoyed, grabbing a broom handle to carefully lower the book the Tiefling was holding, he just looked at his sister with annoyance for interrupting such an interesting rereading. --Your damn book won't go away if you do something productive, so… do something before they see you slacking off again. --As she finished her sentence she threw the broom handle at him so that he could catch it, annoyed he closed the book with one hand while holding the broom tightly. --For once, I'm not slacking off, since that damned day I haven't had the time to resume my studies in magic, I can't present myself before the great Lorroakan without at least being up to the task, you and Cal should understand that.-- Rolan said rather disgusted. Lia just looked at him with folded arms and an arched eyebrow. Rolan just sighed heavily, putting his belongings away for later to do the chores in the grove, as if they needed a wizard's apprentice to do anything of real use.

To its surprise they did need help from a wizard for mundane tasks, fire control of old lady Okta's cauldron, helping the strange named Ethel move her wares as she worked on her potions and lotions, all that was left was to support the cloying couple, Bex and Danis who were carrying a heavy box full of assorted foodstuffs, When the work was done the pair gave each other a cloying nose kiss. Such an action caused Rolan to unconsciously sigh and roll his eyes in discomfort; when the couple noticed his reaction, they laughed innocently.

--Don't be closed minded, you scare anyone who wants to come near to see your magic.-- Dannis said with a sly grin, his wife Bex nudged him with her elbow. --I don't have time for nonsense like that, I have an even greater destiny in magic instead of wasting valuable time cuddling in a hole.-- Rolan said with a firm stance before retreating.

--You'll see in time, it's not something you'll control.-- Bex said in a high voice with a sing-song tone. The tiefling back just slapped his head at her comment. When the golden hour arrived, free of any chores, Rolan walked to a somewhat remote wooded area near the beaches so as not to attract the attention of the group of refugees and the goblins neither

The sight of the golden touches of the sunset makes him sigh nostalgically for his old home with his two brothers, his untouchable world that they enjoyed watching the same sunset with the sea touching the water making an incredible glow and his two brothers witnessing his progress in magic preventing him from hurting himself or others in the process. But now things had changed; Lorroakan's letter, the fall of Elturel, his stay with the refugees was something he had to adapt to if he was to arrive safely with his brothers at Baldurs gate. Determined, he opened some parchment scrolls that were in his bag.

--Well… I can do this, I must be worthy.-- He whispered to himself, setting his possessions aside to avoid any accidents. He closed his eyes in focus and positioned himself correctly before pronouncing the following words.

--"Detono"--As he pronounced the words correctly he has successfully conjured the Thunderwave without ruffling a hair, without harming himself, he had perfected the Thunderwave. He smiles, excited to put it to the test when the opportunity arises. Inspired, he dedicated the next few hours to practicing different spells without rest. This is his chance. Without interruptions, just him, just magic, just inspiration alone.

The sky suddenly cracked. He looked up at the sky in amazement, as a child he would be completely surprised but after seeing how Elturel fell, anything is possible. A burning Nautiloid of Mindflayers could be seen falling from the sky, heading for the coast. Picking up his stuff he rushed to the Grove, the place will be crawling with goblins, mercenaries, mindflayers. Best not to be seen or he would accidentally expose the shelter and endanger his siblings.

[miuszn]

Ok i Just found my new fav writer 🤍so i NEED to ask this ( do It only if you want)

What about an ellie x fem!reader where they go out on Patrol ,they run into a lot of zombies of every type , ellie gets bit and reader sees It so now ellie needs to explain the whole immunity thing and reader believes her ,

They go back to Jackson where Joel (lets Say he skipped golf lessons this time) finds out and freaks out and gets mad at ellie cause She wasnt supposed to tell anyone so he wants ellie to break up with reader but ellie doesnt want to so they fight and ellie goes back to reader for comfort

Its up to you if Joel and ellie fix this whole argument thing

(also Sorry if my english Is perfect🤍)

hiii anon <33 first of all i’m so honored u consider me ur fav writer i never expected to get so much love from the community so fast im rlly grateful to all of u hehe <33 . anyway , i rlly love ur idea !! i decided to write a short drabble instead because i’m working on another fic but i still wanna post some stuff while i’m working on that , hope ur fine w that 🥹🩷 ( note : this is an alternate universe where ellie already forgave joel and they were starting to fix their relationship .. also this might be kinda ooc especially joel bc i’ve never written him before eheh )

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

you weren’t sure how it happened. you were only gone for a second, you swore, and somehow ellie got bit. you knew it was a bad idea to leave her in a room full of clickers, but you knew she was strong and should’ve been able to clear them out with ease. the second you saw the small bite mark on her hand, you realized what had happened. your heart sank. in a panic, you burst into tears and kept apologizing over and over for about 15 minutes until ellie was able to calm you down and explained to you that she’s immune, leaving out the details of the whole situation with joel and the fireflies. of course, you didn’t believe her. it seemed ridiculous. how the hell would someone be immune and not be out there in some lab being researched or whatever, like in movies?

it took you a while to believe her, but eventually, you did. you helped wrap her hand with bandages so no one would see the note mark, because the less people knew, the better.

you were distraught for the rest of the day. you felt horrible. she kept telling you there’s no need to keep apologizing, but you still felt the need to. what if that had been someone else? what if ellie wasn’t immune? how the hell was she immune in the first place? so many questions ran through your head.

later that night, you laid awake still thinking about today. you were disappointed with yourself for what you did, yet still so confused.

you heard some knocking on your window, and looked out to see ellie. you opened your window and let her in. she sat on your bed next to you.

“what’re you doing here?” you asked.

“just wanted to check on you,” she replied, “and. uh. joel’s kinda mad.”

you were confused. you wondered how he even found out, but it’s like she read your mind and answered.

“i told him about what happened today. just casually. and he completely lost it.”

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

“i can’t believe that girl let you get bit.” joel wasn’t even looking ellie in the eye. he was extremely disappointed in both of you.

“it wasn’t her fuckin’ fault, joel! i didn’t think anything bad would happen either! if you’re gonna blame anyone, blame me-“

“i’m blamin’ the both of you! what the fuck did you think was gonna happen back there? leaving you in a room full of clickers to fend for yourself? now one more person knows about you bien’ immune and all. god knows if she can even keep a secret.”

“what the fuck makes you think shes just gonna tell everyone? she’s not like that at all. why the hell are you acting like you don’t know that-“

“why the hell are you actin’ like that girl’s any good for you? all she does is get you into trouble.”

ellie went silent. she was shocked at how different he was acting. all this time he had been so nice to you, not once showing a sign of not trusting you or disliking you. she was conflicted, and in the heat of the moment, she just turned around and left, fuming with anger. she was starting to wonder if joel was actually right, but realized that was such a stupid thought. the worst part is, she wasn’t even sure if he meant it. now she didn’t know what to do. just as they were starting to fix things, life threw another curveball at them.

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

you were hurt by what ellie was saying. his words just further fueled the thoughts in the back of your mind saying that this was all your fault. but ellie realized this and tried her best to comfort you. she kept saying it wasn’t your fault, that she fucked up too, that she’s sure he didn’t mean it and he was just angry. while you were hurt by his words, that wasn’t your main concern. you thought about how this incident just further damaged their already broken bond that they’ve been trying to fix these days. you felt like because of you, all that progress was thrown away in less than 24 hours. and it was an ugly feeling. you felt even worse than you did before, and you didn’t know what to do.

“ellie..” you placed your hand on hers, “i’m sorry.” you started to tear up.

“hey..” she pulled you close and hugged you.

“it’s just.. i don’t know what exactly happened with you and joel. you don’t have to tell me. and everything is getting better now and i’m just scared i’ve ruined it and i just-“

“hey,” she interrupted you, “don’t worry about that, okay? it’s not your fault. i’ll.. i’ll figure it out. you don’t have to worry about me and joel. we’ll be fine.”

“are you going to forgive him for it?”

“i’m not sure,” she sighed. “if he didn’t mean it, maybe. but if he did, i doubt i can.”

“i don’t want you to lose progress with him just because of me..”

“we’ll be fine. please.. just.. stop worrying, okay?”

you nodded hesitantly.

while the guilt of possibly extending the process of ellie’s forgiveness of joel would continue to exist within you, at least for as long as it took her to finally reconcile with him, you were grateful to have her by your side. and you were sure to be with her every step of the way.

[jinxhallows]

idk if the requests are still open but can you do Lee Know detective au? thanks in advance! 💕

hey, I know you didnt ask for all this but well, when you make a request, I must oblige, and if im gonna do a detective au, its gonna be noir because, Minho as a noir detective? his pretty scorpio ass? I swoon! I got so carried away and it got so long, I had to split it into two parts, so here ya go ;) sorry it took so long! I've never written minho before and he's quite enigmatic, I wanted to do him justice. I've never written in this kind of au before, i really enjoyed it! thanks!

ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴄᴀsᴇ [ ʟᴇᴇᴋɴᴏᴡ x ғ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɴᴏɪʀ ᴅᴇᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀᴜ ]

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴀ sʜᴏʀᴛ sᴇʀɪᴇs

ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: 𝟷𝟾+ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ, ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ, ɪʟʟᴇɢᴀʟ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛɪᴇs, ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟽.𝟼ᴋ

━━━━━━━━

Lightning dances across the melancholic navy-grey night sky, momentarily illuminating the worn-out detective's office. The accompanying thunder roars in a subdued grumble, blending with the relentless downpour outside. The storm's proximity jolts Minho from his relentless pursuit of a fourteen-year-old missing person case, now gone cold, aggravating his already mounting frustrations. 

With a frustrated scrape of the wooden chair against the floor, Minho rises from his desk, clutching his empty black coffee mug. The dried residue at its bottom reveals hours have passed since his last sip of caffeine, a regular occurrence during his late-night vigils. His reputation as a tenacious detective, able to crack cases others can't fathom, depends on these after-hours endeavors. 

Gazing into the abyss of his mug, Minho mutters a silent curse at its emptiness before lifting a small, black remote and increasing the volume on the jazz music emanating from the sound system. The smooth melodies of the horns cascade through the room, supplying a temporary shield against the cacophony of the storm. Drawing energy from the music, he leaves the room, flicking on the light switch to the breakroom. The fluorescent lights flicker to life, unveiling the weary detective's countenance as he reaches for the cabinet above the stainless steel sink, retrieving a fresh coffee filter and aromatic grounds. A new brew, he hopes, will fuel him for a few more tireless hours. 

The persistent scratching at the door leading to the back reminds him of the alleycat's nightly demand for its meal. Minho presses the button on the coffee machine, setting the brewing process in motion, and bends down to open the cabinet under the sink, scanning for any remaining cans of cat food. To his dismay, none are in sight. A sigh escapes his lips, a gust that momentarily sweeps his wispy black hair away from his face as he ponders an alternative solution. 

Scratch. Scratch. 

"Give me a second," he calls out in exasperation, fully expecting the alleycat to understand plain English. He opens the fridge and retrieves the tuna sandwich he had prepared for himself. His gaze shifts between the sandwich and the door, contemplating his priorities. Finally, he unwraps half of the sandwich, placing it on a delicate porcelain plate. Determined to pick up some cans of cat food on his way home from the 24-hour gas station, he heads towards the back door. As he opens it, a small, black blur darts past him and into the building. 

"Hey—" he begins to protest, only to be interrupted by a resounding thunderstrike that causes him to wince. Shielding his face from the stray droplets, carried on the wind, he silently curses as the rain dampens his pristine white dress shirt. His decision to stay put is driven by a flash of lightning that seemingly reveals a figure at the end of the alley. 

Another flash of lightning confirms his suspicion, and the glowing streetlamp near the door finally unveils your identity. 

"What are you doing out here? Are you lost?" He raises his voice above the rain, squinting at you from the doorway. You take a step back, glancing at the sign next to the door, before shifting your gaze towards the dark-haired man. 

"Are you Detective Lee?" you lean forward and ask. 

"Come inside, we're both getting soaked," he steps aside, his gaze still fixed on the rain-laden sky. You cautiously enter the hallway, and with a frustrated sigh, Minho looks down the darkened corridor where the alleycat has vanished. Placing the small plate with the sandwich near the coatrack by the door, he closes it behind you. His eyes widen with disbelief as he examines your soaked appearance. He takes your jacket, giving it a gentle shake before hanging it on the hook. You also remove your hat, and he carefully places it on the adjacent hook. 

"If it's an emergency, you should have gone to the police," he says, shaking his wrist to glance at his black watch with a gold rim. "I can drive you, so you don't have to walk in this rain. It's a few blocks up the road." 

Ignoring his attempts to divert the conversation, you press on, your tone becoming more assertive. "You didn't answer my question. Are you Detective Lee?" 

"Yes, I am," he concedes, though his tone carries a hint of reluctance. "But it's outside of business hours, and I'm really tied up in a case—" 

Undeterred, you push forward, dismissing his excuses. "I was told to talk to you. My name is y/n, y/n Johnston." 

At the mention of your name, he freezes mid-sentence. "Johnston. As in the disappearance of Alesha Johnston?" 

You retrieve a manilla envelope from your bag and hold it out to him. "I received this yesterday—no label, nothing. Inside are photos of this cabin. It reminds me of the place Alesha used to talk about just before she went missing. I know it's been so long, and it may be nothing, but—" 

Slowly, you hand the envelope to Minho, who holds it but refrains from opening it. He gazes back at you, his eyes capturing the fear and hope shimmering within yours. "Follow me," he urges, turning swiftly and leading the way through the breakroom. The coffee continues streaming into the pot, now halfway full. You maintain your pace behind him, taking in the sight of the old building's interior. The breakroom walls are painted a faded mint green, and the black-and-white checkered tile flooring evokes memories of shower floors in locker rooms. The door to his office bears a frosted glass window with golden letters that read: Detective Lee. He opens it, gesturing for you to enter first, and you hear the door click securely into place as you approach his desk. Stacks of folders and piles of paper clutter the surface, alongside a few polaroid photos of random people and a couple of bloodied scenes depicting unthinkable brutal murders. 

He loosens his black tie, sinking into the edge of the work desk. His white shirt clings to his shoulders and chest, slightly damp from the encounter. His steely brown eyes bear a hint of doubt as his tongue probes the inside of his mouth, deep in thought. 

Minho begins to unravel his thought process, his voice filled with skepticism, "This case is fourteen years old, and you suddenly receive an anonymous package with photos of a place your sister mentioned—" 

"Hold on, how do you know she's my sister?" 

He strides around the desk and opens the folder at its center, revealing faded, typewritten pages. "Because the Johnston disappearance is one of the cold cases I've been working on for a few years now. A wealthy family's daughter vanishes without a trace, barely investigated before being closed," he shakes his head. "But you weren't even home when it happened, according to your witness statement, at least." Minho raises his gaze, locking eyes with you. "Who told you to come find me?" 

"I got the photos and started askin’ around to see if anyone recognized the cabin or the woods. The bartender at Jerry's mentioned you specialize in cold cases. Going to the cops, they wouldn't have taken me seriously. I know she's probably dead, but I can't find peace until I get some answers. Please, you're my only hope right now," you plead, the raw emotion in your words striking a chord in Minho's heart. He knows exactly who you're referring to when you mentioned the bartender. He'll have to pay his friend a visit and share a drink soon. Finally, he opens the envelope and carefully removes the photos. Six in total, each capturing the desolation of a dilapidated cabin in the woods. Two show the interior, revealing signs of recent habitation, at least, it seems that way. 

"I don't work for free, no matter how pretty a face is," he says, sliding the photos back into the envelope and placing them on his desk. "Three hundred an hour, with a deposit now that counts toward the first one." 

A smirk tugs at your lips as you retrieve your wallet from your bag, pulling out four crisp one-hundred dollar bills. Placing them atop the envelope, your gaze meets Minho's, locking eyes with the private eye. "An extra hundred, because you called me pretty." Money holds no sway over you, your inheritance affording you endless resources. Closure for your sister's disappearance is worth any price. 

Accepting the cash, Minho opens a drawer and tucks it away before resting his forearms on the table, interlacing his fingers as he leans forward. "I could say much more than that, but I still possess a shred of decorum after all these years." Your attention fixates on his partly opened lips, when suddenly a ding echoes from the other room, prompting him to stand. "Would you like some coffee? I don't drink tea, but there might be some Lipton from the attorney in the office next to mine." 

A chuckle escapes your lips. "Coffee will do just fine." 

Meow. 

The alleycat beckons from the doorway, its presence demanding attention. As you glance over your shoulder, it gracefully brushes its head against the doorframe, proceeding to rub against your leg. Unable to resist its charm, you instinctively bend down, indulging in a few gentle head scratches. 

"How cute. Is he yours?" you inquire, your voice filled with genuine curiosity. 

Minho corrects your assumption, emphasizing the proper pronoun, "She might as well be by now. I'll be right back," he replies with a warm smile. 

Pouring the steaming brew into his mug, Minho finds solace in the hot liquid, an elixir for his restless mind. Alone in the breakroom, questions swirl in his thoughts.  Even if they found the cabin, what would it lead to? Why would the victim have been talking about a secluded cabin in the first place? 

Absently, he reaches for another mug from the cupboard, its distinctive wood catching his attention. He has opened these cupboards countless times before, yet something about them stands out now. Running his fingers along the shelf, a wave of familiarity washes over him. The grain patterns and texture of the wood bear an uncanny resemblance to the trees captured in the photographs. 

He pauses, a connection forming between the cupboard and the haunting images that have consumed his mind. The realization strikes him like an electric shock—this is the same wood! Grasping the extra mug, he hastily fills it, returning to his desk and arranging the photos. His eyes dart between the images, drawing parallels. 

"These trees," he murmurs, turning over one of the photos and gently pressing his finger against the clearer ones, "These are Eastern Black Oak trees. It's unmistakable. They grow on the outskirts of town, up north." 

"Then we'll go tomorrow, when the weather clears," you declare with determination, punctuating your statement with a firm nod. 

Minho hesitates, apprehension etched on his face. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, I don’t work with others—besides, this could be dangerous, if these photos are recent, it looks like someone’s still living there,” He stares at the photo, turning it back right side up so he can look at it closer.  “Still, the forests on the edges of town are huge.  It has to be narrowed down somehow.” 

Now it's your turn to lean forward, your finger tracing the blurred backdrop in another photo. "If it's up north, this looks like the water tower on Bell Avenue," you interject, your eyes meeting Minho's. "But you know, you don't typically work with others, right?" A mischievous brow rises as you lean back, taking a sip of your coffee. The realization dawns upon you—the cabin had consumed your attention, neglecting the background details, just as Minho had focused solely on the trees, overlooking the water tower. 

"Another set of eyes won't hurt. Besides, it's my sister we're talking about. I'll do anything to uncover the truth," you say, unveiling a small revolver from your bag and placing it firmly on the desk. Minho's surprise is palpable, his expectations shattered by your audacity. Silence fills the room, punctuated only by the distant patter of raindrops against the windows. Lingering glances and unspoken words convey volumes, as the weight of the investigation and your shared vulnerability hangs in the air. 

Suddenly, Minho takes control of the moment, a subtle shift in his demeanor. "Alright then, let's meet here at eight o'clock sharp tomorrow morning," he asserts. 

You rise from your seat, setting your partially drunk coffee on the edge of the desk. "Do you mind calling me a taxi?" you ask, your voice carrying a hint of weariness. 

Minho glances at his wrist, considering your request. As he gathers the evidence and places it neatly in a folder alongside the rest of the case documentation, he offers an alternative solution. "Actually, I'm about to lock up and head home. I can drop you off at your place, save you the taxi fee," he proposes, a flicker of kindness in his gaze. 

"Thank you, Detective. I would appreciate that very much," you reply gratefully, acknowledging his offer. 

Together, you step out into the relentless downpour, the rain immediately soaking through your clothes. Minho swiftly unlocks his car, holding the door open for you, a gesture of chivalry. You climb into the passenger seat, a shiver coursing through your body as the cold rainwater clings to your skin. Minho shuts the door and dashes to the driver's side, water dripping from his hair and clothes. As he starts the engine, the car roars to life, its comforting hum filling the space. The interior feels warm and cozy, offering solace from the relentless rain. Soft illumination from the dashboard lights bathes the cabin as Minho adjusts the temperature and activates the windshield wipers. The rhythm of rain on the roof serves as a soothing backdrop as the two of you pull away from the agency and onto the road. 

Curiosity sparks within you, breaking the silence. "I'm curious, how did you figure out the type of trees in the photo?" you inquire, stealing a glance at Minho. 

"My degree is in ecology," he reveals, his voice carrying a note of pride. "It comes in handy at times." 

You muse aloud, your gaze shifting to the raindrops streaking across the car windows. "And how did you become a detective?" you venture, genuinely intrigued. 

A subtle, smothered chuckle escapes Minho, accompanied by a faint curl of his lips. Memories resurface, creating a momentary flicker in his eyes. "I had a troubled upbringing and ended up in prison. I learned from doing a lot of reading in there, and I guess I had a thing for criminology," he explains, his tone tinged with a mix of reflection and determination. "When I finally got out, someone offered to mentor me. They helped me channel my experiences into something that could aid others instead of causing harm." 

Keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead, Minho concludes, "Thinking like a criminal is much easier when you've been one." 

Curiosity piques your interest further, compelling you to probe deeper. "What did you do?" you inquire, your voice laced with genuine intrigue. 

"We don't have to delve into that. Trust me, it won't paint a pretty picture," Minho deflects, occasionally stealing glances in your direction. "And what about you? What's your story?" 

As the miles pass, you engage in small talk, cautiously revealing fragments of your respective lives. Each guarded, harboring past traumas unbeknownst to the other. As your destination draws nearer, the rain eases, the storm relinquishing its fury. The atmosphere within the car begins to shift, as a sense of cautious optimism replaces the earlier tension. It feels like a turning point, a pivotal moment where the answers you have sought for so long are finally within reach. 

Minho pulls up outside your residence, the gentle purr of the car's engine fading as he turns off the ignition. Turning to face you, his eyes reflect a blend of determination and concern. "We're here," he states softly, his voice laced with anticipation. 

Meeting his gaze, a flicker of gratitude glimmers in your eyes. "Thank you for everything, Detective. You have no idea how much this means to me," you express, genuine appreciation resonating in your words. 

Minho offers a small, heartfelt smile. "Call me Minho. Since we're partners now, I suppose it's okay," he suggests, his voice laced with a hint of camaraderie. 

The sound of a saxophone fills the car, the radio emitting a captivating riff. Minho adjusts the volume, his actions captivating your attention. You realize you have been lingering, delaying your departure. Despite your drenched state and weariness, you find yourself stalling. Minho's actions hold a magnetic pull, the weight of the investigation and an unspoken attraction hanging palpably in the air. He leans in slightly, bridging the gap between you, the charged atmosphere electrifying the space. His hand gently brushes a rain-soaked strand of hair away from your face, a touch both tender and exhilarating. His eyes betray a momentary hesitation, flicking toward your lips before diverting his gaze to the car's ignition, restarting the engine. 

"Eight o'clock sharp, got it?" he asserts authoritatively, his voice resolute. Handing you a card, he adds, "Call me if you need anything before then." 

You take the card, studying it briefly, gratitude filling your heart. 

With a nod of finality, you turn and make your way towards your front door, the echoes of raindrops fading into the background. The sound of Minho's engine revving as he drives off lingers in your ears. You close your door, pausing for a moment to replay the recent encounter in your mind. A faint smile tugs at the corner of your lips, but it quickly fades as the memory of your sister's disappearance resurfaces, dampening the moment. 

Minho parks his car in the garage of his apartment complex, his footsteps echoing in the empty space as he gathers his belongings. Tucking his trenchcoat under his arm, he navigates towards the elevator lobby, stopping momentarily to retrieve the mail from his mailbox. Disappointment flickers across his features as he finds nothing of note. He locks the mailbox and steps into the waiting elevator, lost in his thoughts as he ascends to the seventh floor. The forced wait within the confined space allows his mind to wander. The woods near the water tower, the enigmatic cabin—how were they connected to Alesha's disappearance? Tomorrow, he decides, he will need to gather more information from you. 

You. 

Arriving home, Minho leans against the wall for support, slipping off his heels one by one, leaving them alongside his sneakers near the door. He places his briefcase on the small, round table in his living room, his hands deftly unbuttoning his shirt and removing it, tossing it into the laundry basket outside his bedroom. Unbuttoning his pants, he sits on the edge of his bed, his thoughts consuming him. Who would send those photos? What could their motive be after all these years? Why now? 

A soft squeak pierces the silence, drawing Minho's attention to his furry companion. He scratches under the cat's chin, momentarily distracted from his musings. Resting his elbows on his knees, he rests his chin on his fists, contemplating aloud, "If this is a lead, it means the sender wants the case solved. But why not involve the police? Why remain anonymous?" The purring cat curls up beside him, a comforting presence in his solitary world. 

“Let’s say this person genuinely wants the case solved.  Why? How would it benefit them?” Minho's mind races ahead, thoughts swirling faster than he can articulate.  “Because what if someone else is involved? I’d only breadcrumb someone to the culprit if I want them arrested, but then—why not give it to the police? Why not reveal your identity?” 

Another squeak interrupts his train of thought, reminding him to focus on the present.  “Soonie, I can always count on you to remind me to pay attention to you.” he murmurs affectionately, nuzzling the cat before rising to his feet. Stripping off his pants and underwear, he turns the shower knob, adjusting it to the desired temperature. Steam fills the bathroom, enveloping him as he steps beneath the hot cascade. The water reddens his pale skin, washing away the day's weight with a deep breath. 

Minho lives alone in a modest one-bedroom apartment, his domain shared with his three feline companions. A few close friends exist in his life, but the demands of his work leave little time for socializing. Conversations with friends in marketing and business often feel stilted, as he stays disconnected from popular culture. However, he has developed a bond with Jisung, the bartender at Jerry's, often seeking refuge in the establishment to unwind and glean valuable information from inebriated patrons. Jisung's night shift schedule clashes with Minho's daytime investigations, limiting their opportunities to catch up. 

And a partner? Forget about it.  He had all but forgotten how to properly court someone, and nobody was willing to comply with his outrageously out of whack work/life balance beyond a one night stand anyway.   

Coming home is a stark reminder of Minho's solitude, a condition he embraces for the most part. He has cultivated a reputation for being aloof, fitting the role perfectly. Like any dedicated professional, he relishes the moments spent on his couch, sipping beer and losing himself in mindless television. Yet, a persistent unease gnaws at him, highlighting the dissatisfaction that lingers beneath the surface. 

Thoughts of you infiltrate his mind once more, and he glances towards his phone, though he is still firmly planted on his comfortable couch, dressed in lounge pants. His mind drifts, wondering about your current whereabouts.…were you already asleep? Or were you up, unable to fall asleep either? What did you think about when you were home? And did you live alone? With someone? 

Suppressing a yawn, Minho finally acknowledges his body's fatigue, realizing it's time to rest. "Eight o'clock sharp," he murmurs, tilting his head back on the couch as his heavy eyelids succumb to sleep, shutting out the world. 

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! 

The piercing sound of the alarm jolts Minho awake, propelling him upright on the couch. Startled, two formerly resting cats scatter at his sudden movement. He sucks in a sharp breath, gripping the back of his neck, feeling the strain from falling asleep on the couch like a fool once again. Scanning the living room, he notes that the sky is still dark, but the clock indicates it's already six in the morning. With a resigned sigh, Minho drags himself into the bedroom, silencing the alarm by forcefully pressing his fist onto the button. He rubs his eyes, fighting the temptation to crawl back into bed. It always seems inviting when he has to leave but rarely when he returns home after a long day's work. 

Yet, there is a glimmer of hope that he may make a significant breakthrough in this case, finally cracking it open after years of being dormant. Fueled by determination, he dresses himself and leaves his apartment, heading to the agency to meet you at the agreed-upon time. 

As he pulls up to the agency, Minho is momentarily taken aback by the presence of you and Kevin, the attorney who rents an office down the hall. Your smile is wide, something he hadn’t seen himself yet.  What could Kevin be saying to make you so happy? He was as interesting as a wallpaper peeling.   

Beep Beep. 

Minho rolls down the passenger window, lowering his head to shoot you a disarming smile.  “Are you ready?” he asks, his tone cool but polite. 

"Morning there, Detective!" Kevin greets him with a wave, fully aware that Minho isn't one for exchanging idle pleasantries. He is taken aback when Minho responds with a curt nod, his lips pressed tightly together, acknowledging the greeting, albeit with a touch of frostiness. 

You bid farewell, but before you step into the car, the attorney stops you. He hands you his card with a smile, holding the door open for you to enter Detective Lee's car. Minho discreetly rolls his eyes, seizing the brief moment while you buckle your seatbelt. As he drives off, the low hum of the radio fills the space, broadcasting the morning news. 

"You know Kevin?" he asks casually. 

"No? Well, I mean, I know him now, but we just met a few minutes ago. Why?" you reply, curiosity tinged in your voice. 

"No reason, just thought you two looked friendly," he says, his words carrying a hint of observation. 

You narrow your eyes, finding it peculiar that he took note of such a detail, but then again, he is a detective, right? Perhaps you're reading too much into it. Settling back into your seat, you retrieve several envelopes from your bag. 

"The police had already gone through these and deemed them worthless during the initial investigation," you explain, tracing your fingers along the cursive signature of your sister's name on one of the aged envelopes. "They were letters she exchanged with Pierre, an exchange student from France." 

You continue, "He interned at our father's bank before abruptly dropping out and returning to France with little explanation. At least, that's what Alesha told me. But now, after last night, I stayed up rereading them, and... I don't know, something feels off." 

Minho nods, a flicker of impressed admiration visible in his half grin. "Is Pierre still around? Does anyone have contact with him?" 

You shrug, shuffling through the letters, scanning them for any overlooked mentions. "Once he left, only Alesha kept in touch with him. Dad was solely focused on quickly filling the vacant spot at the bank." 

"What about 'em feels off?" Minho inquires. 

"Just the way Alesha questioned him about his reasons for leaving. Initially, he claimed he was homesick, but then it changed to his grandmother falling ill. The letters from those times... they're like a year apart," you explain, your brows furrowing. 

"Good eye," Minho remarks, glancing at you briefly. His gaze drifts towards the bag in your lap before returning to the road. "You still got your weapon?" 

"Of course," you reply confidently. 

"Is it registered?" he probes further. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" You tease playfully, folding the letters neatly and placing them back inside. Your bag finds a spot on the floor by your feet. 

"Yeah, I kind of need to know. If you go off shooting someone, it brings the cops into the mix, and they tend to get in my way. Things would go smoother if you have proper paperwork for the weapon," Minho explains. 

"My gun is registered, and I'm licensed to carry. I've passed my foundational training for self-defense. Is that the answer you want?" you sassily retort, eliciting a snicker from him. He steals another glance in your direction, his gaze piercing through you as if he can peer into your inner thoughts. 

Well then, kiss me. 

"That's the answer the cops want to hear, so it's good enough for me," he says, refocusing his attention on the road. You confirm that he does not possess mind-reading capabilities. Why did such a thought cross your mind? It's neither the time nor the place, and he's certainly not the ideal person for such fantasies. 

You lean forward, turning up the news report, to distract yourself from your thoughts that went rampant in the near-silence he seemed to enjoy.  Was he a psychopath? No, of course not, a psychopath wouldn’t take in a stray alleycat. But they can be quite manipulative, and then also, you still don’t know what he did to end up in prison… 

The car engine grumbles to a halt, and you take a moment to survey your surroundings. Houses dot the block, and the car is parked on the street. Minho steps out, removing his coat and scarf and tossing them onto the backseat. He scans the area, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. From the passenger's side, you observe as he leans on the center console, his big brown eyes locking with yours, the scent of coffee, cigarettes, and cologne lingering on his breath. 

"Can you open that for me?" Minho gestures to the glove compartment, closer to you than him, aware of your close proximity and opting not to get any closer for now. 

You oblige, clicking open the glove compartment, revealing a gun resting atop various receipts and letters. You gingerly retrieve it, carefully handing it face down to him. 

"Thanks," he says, standing up and closing the car door, tucking the gun into the back of his pants as he adjusts them. His gaze sweeps over the visible street names, houses, and parked cars. He shields his eyes from the morning sun, filtering through the thick clouds in the gray sky. 

It's going to rain again today, that was for certain. 

Lowering his hand, his gaze settles on the imposing white globe of the water tower. He turns to look at the house behind him, confident that he has led both of you to a promising starting point. He begins walking forward, momentarily forgetting your presence until you call out for him to slow down, struggling to catch up. He halts, realizing your need, and waits for you to join him. His eyes shift to the vast land extending into the forest, obstructed by a black diamond chain fence, towering nearly eight feet high. 

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he rests his hands on his hips. Stepping back, he assesses the fence, considering whether he should try to scale it. Then he looks back at you. 

"Can you climb this?" he asks, as if it were a feat within the reach of an average human. 

"N-No?" you stammer, feeling a sense of intimidation. He nibbles on his lip thoughtfully, searching for an alternative solution. Finally, his gaze lands on the neighboring house, and he points towards it, his finger tracing a line from the front door to the backyard that extends into the treeline. 

"We could enter from there, but we'll have to go through the house," Minho suggests. "But if they're not too welcoming, we'll have to scale the fence. I mean... we could drive further down, but this is exactly the direction depicted in the photo. I don't think we'll get a better opportunity. Anything else would introduce too many variables." 

You glance back at the house, your arms tightly crossed over your chest. Then you turn to Minho and nod firmly. "We have to try." 

"I like that attitude, partner," Minho remarks, his arm draping over your shoulders as he guides your gaze, sharing his observations and the profile he has mentally constructed of the household. He points to the car parked in front of the garage door, indicating its size and potential seating capacity. "That's a full-sized sedan. I can tell from here it seats at least five, maybe six," he explains, redirecting your attention to the front yard. "There's a childproof gate there, so it's a family." His finger then lands on the tall pole holding the American flag. "They're patriotic, so it's likely a cookie-cutter family with a military dad or son," he deduces, scanning the surroundings until his eyes fall on a sticker adorning the vehicle's bumper. 

"Veteran. It's the dad," he concludes, straightening his posture and nodding at his deductions. "Follow my lead... Oh, take this," he says, pulling his gun from his trousers and handing it to you. "Put it in your bag." 

You comply, feeling the weight of the weapon as you zip up your bag. Walking alongside the detective, you watch as he raises his fist and lightly knocks on the door three times. Stepping back, he patiently waits, attentively listening to the sounds emanating from within. He distinguishes a shrill squeal followed by the quick pitter-patter of footsteps, indicating the presence of a small child, perhaps even two. A woman's voice joins the commotion, accompanied by heavier footsteps approaching the door. The door opens, revealing the mother with an infant resting on her hip, their eyes as strikingly green as each other's. The woman peers at both of you through rectangular lenses, curiosity etched on her face. Suddenly, a crash echoes from inside, and she steps back, calling out, "Daniel, please!" She then turns her attention back to you both. "May I help you?" 

"Yes, I'm so sorry to bother you, but my wife and I are trying to get to my brother's wedding, and we made a wrong turn, ending up here. Do you mind if we use your phone to give them a call and let them know we'll be late? I'm the best man, and I just feel awful about this," Minho explains with a remorseful tone. 

"Oh, I... that does sound awful! Come on in, please. My husband is great with directions; he might be able to help you get back on the right track! A best man can't be late," she says, wincing as another crash resonates through the home. "DANIEL JEREMIAH!" 

Wide-eyed, you find yourselves abandoned in the living room as she rushes after the source of the noise. Pinned closely to Minho, you follow his lead as he subtly navigates through the living room, adopting an innocent demeanor as if searching for a restroom. You seamlessly merge into the kitchen, where the sliding patio door provides an escape route to the backyard. 

"Your wife?" you whisper, questioning the authenticity of the story. 

"It worked, didn't it?" Minho shushes you, ensuring that no one is within earshot. He slides the door open and steps outside. It's at this moment that the aroma of burning charcoal fills his nostrils, and he spots a nearby grill, cursing under his breath. 

"Excuse me? Who the hell are you?" The bearded man calls out from his chair, his glasses perched atop his bald head. 

"We're lost, and your wife was kind enough to offer us the use of your phone. Sorry if we wandered too far," Minho responds, modulating his voice to exude an innocent charm.  Maybe he is a psychopath… 

"Yeah, well, the phone's in there," the man grumbles, pointing towards the house. He takes a swig of his beer and places it on the table before making his way back to the house with a slight limp. You notice it, and you know Minho probably does too.  This man isn’t capable of chasing after you two if you can get some distance between you. 

Thinking quickly, you start waving your arms frantically and screaming. "It's a bee!" you shriek, stumbling backward. Minho is perplexed, trying to understand what's happening as he tries to calm you down and locate the imaginary insect. 

"Wait! Calm down, will you!?" Minho shouts, gripping both of your arms to halt your frantic movements. You both freeze, breathing heavily, and gaze at each other in bewilderment.   

“I can’t calm down, I’m allergic–honey–remember?” you say through gritted teeth before snatching your arms away and resuming your flailing, screaming about bees once more. With that, you rush off towards the woods. Minho's eyes widen in realization, his mouth forming a perfect "O" shape as he looks back at the bewildered old man, offering an apologetic glance. 

"Sorry, I'll be right back. I have to go after her," Minho offers. 

“Like hell you do boy, or you won’t hear the end of it the whole car ride home!” The man waves Minho off and the detective takes off in a sprint after you.  You can hear his footsteps behind you, gradually catching up, but you keep running deeper into the woods until you eventually slow down to a jog, completely out of breath. With a breathless laugh, you turn to face Minho, who slows down a few paces behind you, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath before straightening up. 

"Now that..." he wags a finger at you, "that was clever." Closing the remaining distance between you, he squints his eyes at the trees ahead. He then glances back at the direction you came from, the water tower still visible above the trees, but now further away. 

You unzip your bag, handing him back his weapon that he tucks into the back of his pants again before trudging forward. 

“You said it wouldn’t paint a pretty picture if you told me what you did to get in prison, so…what do you care what I think about you? After this case is over, it’s not like it matters what I think.” You say, stepping over fallen branches here and there and trying to stay stable on rocks lodged into the dirt as you walk alongside Minho. 

“Nice try.” He says, ducking under a low branch as he walks.  “How about I tell you once we solve this case?” 

“Are you inferring you’ll keep in contact with me once we solve this case, Detective?” 

He looks at you with a grin.  “You’re drawing a lot from one statement, perhaps you’re projecting something?” 

“Perhaps I am.” You reply boldly. 

The banter between you two continues, but the unspoken tension hangs thick in the air. Instead of addressing it directly, you both delve deeper into the case, exchanging details and theories. As you walk, the terrain becomes increasingly challenging. The uneven forest floor causes you to stumble several times, almost twisting your ankle. To assist you, Minho takes hold of your hand, offering support as you navigate the rocky path. The sound of a nearby stream reaches your ears, bringing a sense of tranquility. However, when Minho hears it, he comes to an abrupt halt, his gaze fixed on the surrounding woods. 

"Eastern Black Oak trees. They're often found near creeks and streams," he explains, slowly turning his head until he spots the distant water tower, now a mere blur. Whipping back around, he points, his voice filled with urgency. "Do you see that?" 

You follow his gaze and your eyes widen. "Th-that's it!" you exclaim, your voice filled with disbelief. "I-I think that's it!" 

"Stay close," Minho commands, his hands firmly planted on your shoulders. He locks eyes with you, his intense gaze capturing your attention. "If anything goes wrong, you need to run, okay? Run and get help. Don't try to be a hero, got it?” 

Nodding in understanding, you respond, "You're kind of scaring me." 

"Crime is scary. I'm telling it like it is because I believe you can handle it. This is what you signed up for when you asked for my help. Usually, I do this on my own. Now, you can turn back and use that family's phone to call a taxi and go back home where it's safe, or you can trust me and come find out what happened to your sister." Minho releases his grip on your shoulders, giving you the space to contemplate. 

"Either way, I'll lose sleep over another cold case. This is my life—it has been for 17 years. Nothing changes for me.  I work to make sure the changes happen for people like you.” 

Being in this place, the very location your sister spoke of before her disappearance, brings back a flood of traumatic memories. The sleepless nights filled with fear, the constant dread of whether her captor would come for you next, the tormenting thoughts of her suffering at the hands of a twisted killer. 

Minho's hand on your arm brings you back to the present, his touch gentle and reassuring. He begins to speak, but you interrupt him. 

"Let's go." 

That's all you manage to say as you forge ahead fueled by pure adrenaline. Minho joins you, and as you draw closer, there it is—the cabin from the photos. You can't help but pause, your breath catching in your throat as you gaze up at its dark, foreboding windows. Meanwhile, he takes a slow walk around the perimeter, peering into the windows and assessing the cabin's condition. 

“Well if someone did live here, they haven’t for a very long time.” Minho's conclusion reverberates in your ears, though your focus remains fixated on the thunderous pounding of your own heart. He steps back towards the front door, confirming its locked status before bracing himself. With a powerful kick from his foot, the door splinters and flies open, accompanied by the clattering of screws onto the wooden floor. Seeing him draw his gun, you fumble to retrieve yours, eager to stay close behind him rather than be left alone in the daunting woods. 

Silently, you survey the cabin with wide eyes as Minho cautiously progresses. He gestures for you to stay back as he eases open the door to a room on the right, his gun poised at eye level. The room is dusty, adorned with cobwebs, and scattered with empty cans and litter, but otherwise empty. Minho moves with agility, his steps barely making a sound as he crosses the hall to the other room. Opening the door, you catch a glimpse of a small bathroom as he approaches the shower and yanks the curtain back, his face contorting with disgust. 

Relocating his gun to the back of his pants, Minho turns to face you. "A dead rat, almost completely decomposed," he informs you, stepping back into the hallway and surveying the surroundings. "Otherwise, we're all clear." He gazes at you expectantly. "Recognize anything? Any memories?" 

You shake your head. "Nothing's ringing a bell." 

"Hm." Minho paces around the living area, his eyes scanning the walls. The absence of personal photos is notable, replaced by framed wildlife and landscape imagery, coated in a thick layer of dust. However, something catches his attention, prompting him to take a step back. He withdraws the photos from his pocket, shuffling through them until his gaze locks onto the deer head above the mantle. 

His eyes shift from the photo to the actual mantle, and he immediately notices the glaring disparity—the deer head is conspicuously absent. As he takes in the scene, he realizes another detail: the small clock on the mantle is missing as well. With a growing sense of intrigue, he approaches the clock, now positioned on the opposite side from the photo. It's in a dilapidated state, covered in dust, but he picks it up nonetheless, examining it closely, his mind racing. 

"I would send the photos because I want the case solved," Minho muses aloud, his fingers exploring the clock's grooves. "I would lead you right to the answer—perhaps for revenge? Otherwise, I would have involved myself sooner..." He sticks his fingernail underneath the battery tab, popping the piece out and his doe-eyes widen at the small key inside. Just as he begins to formulate his thoughts-- 

"Detective!" 

Your voice echoes from the room that Minho had unlocked earlier, prompting him to rush in with his hand ready to draw his weapon. However, he finds you kneeling on the floor, pressing your hands against the wooden surface. His gaze follows your intent, and that's when he notices it—a lock embedded in a door that conceals whatever lies below. He joins you, slowly lowering himself to his knees, the key held out before him as his eyes meet yours. 

"How are you doing?" he asks, concern lacing his voice. 

"A little shaky from the adrenaline, but I'm alright," you respond honestly. Minho nods, acknowledging your state, and leans forward to unlock the latch, flipping it open. As you both stand up, you lend your strength to lift the heavy door, its piercing creak reverberating through the air as it reveals a set of stone stairs descending into a pitch-black lower level. 

"I don't know about this. Maybe we should call the cops..." you trail off, your voice filled with uncertainty. 

Minho ignores your suggestion, determined to forge ahead. With his gun drawn, he advances down the stairs, his focused footsteps echoing in the darkness. You groan, scanning the room for something that could aid your exploration. Your eyes land on a partially burned candle nestled in a holder, accompanied by a box of matches, resting on a small table near the window. Swiftly, you seize the candle and strike a match, its flame casting a flickering glow as you cautiously make your way downstairs. Minho stands in the center of the room, surveying his surroundings—an empty expanse devoid of any notable objects. The shelves are bare, a solitary wooden table leans against the wall, and a few cardboard boxes are strewn about. 

He places his shoe against one of the boxes, squinting and tilting his head to read the faded stamp. A half-smirk emerges on his face as he looks back at you. "Well, well, well, mademoiselle," he utters with a trace of satisfaction. "It seems we might have ourselves a lead." 

Your horror is palpable, etched onto your features as you catch sight of the label on the box: 

AIR MAIL - PARIS, FRANCE 

---

next part -> click here for the smut

[reddie-ao3feed]

My Friends Call Me a Loser (Cause Im Still Hanging Around)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/4Acbgfr by RichieToizersBigOldGlasses Richie Toizer yearns for Eddie Kaspbrak, but he’s good at feelings. Eddie Kaspbrak yearns for Richie Toizer, but he’s bad at feelings. Or, If Casual and Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan had a baby and made it Reddie Words: 1443, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Sonia Kaspbrak, Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough, Georgie Denbrough, Mike Hanlon, Stanley Uris, Ben Hanscom, others - Character Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier Additional Tags: Consensual Underage Sex, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Gay Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, He’s just a pussy, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Stanley Uris is a Good Friend, Minor Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Minor Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Beverly Marsh is a Good Friend, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh Lives With Her Aunt, Richie Tozier Has ADHD, Bill Denbrough is a Good Friend, Minor Bill Denbrough/Audra Phillips, Ben Hanscom is a Good Friend, Poet Ben Hanscom, Eventual Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Mike Hanlon is a Good Friend, Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak Are Best Friends, Track Star Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Toizer Skateboards, drugs drugs drugs, Eddie Kaspbrak is a bad person, Eddie Kaspbrak is Bad at Feelings, Alternate Universe - High School, They’re juniors in their second semester, so most are 17, eddie kaspbrak is 16, He’ll turn 17 later in the story, Blowjobs, handjobs, Teasing, Semi-Public Sex, Richie Toizer need to stand up, Slow To Update, have no idea what troupe this is, I have no idea if they’ll get a happy ending, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Richie Tozier Has a Big Dick, Service Top Richie Tozier, Sub Top Richie Tozier, at times - Freeform, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak/Top Richie Tozier read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/4Acbgfr

[ao3feed-jonmartin]

"Watch your step"

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/HlPidas by Ivy001 AU where Jon is rescued from the circus before Michael ever appears. But with significantly more Trauma and significantly more hurt than he was in canon- BUT THANKFULLY martin is there to help! (you can pry those two adorable idiots from my cold dead fingers) Set briefly before the kidnapping- mostly during and after for a while, cause i love trauma aftermath- sue me! Words: 2659, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Gen, M/M Characters: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Nikola Orsinov, Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus, Sarah Baldwin, Melanie King, Basira Hussain, Georgie Barker Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: Set in Episodes 99-101 | Circus of the Other Kidnapped Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Kidnapping, Kidnapped Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, (non sexual), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Mild Blood, mild body horror, loss of bodily atonomy, Loss of Control, Panic Attacks, The Circus of the Other (The Magnus Archives), Gags, Implied/Referenced Torture, Psychological Torture, Aftermath of Torture, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jon is rescued from the circus! yey, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Touch-Averse Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Threats of Violence, Everyone Needs A Hug, Force-Feeding, Restraints, Flashbacks, im sorry Michael bbg you cant be in this one :(, Martin being precious, Protective Martin Blackwood, Elias is mean, this is the 6th time i accidentally deleted half my tags- im done! read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/HlPidas

[bri3000-kimiyosh]

The Teens New Life Of Hope

My Danganronpa UDG OC Hikari Naegi -> ( ヒカリ ) ( 苗偽 ) as a teen, she is the younger sister of Makoto Naegi in a different universe.

Along side are the new reformed Warriors of hope. Nagisa Shingetsu, Kotoko Utsugi, Masaru Daimon, And Jataro Kemuri.

Years later after the events of Udg Hikari Naegi the warriors try to start a new life without crime or killing. while also still healing from the horrors of their childhood and the awful acts of murders they cause in Towa city.

Author note- I will also show art posts of what happen before this new era, I know im going out of order here before my fanfic is done but its gone take me a long time to finish it and i just cant hold on to my art and story ideas for too long( also IRL stuff as well).

I will do character bios for them, I just need to write them out when I eventually have the time.

Nagisa / For those who love his cowlicks he will still have them but when he sleeps or goes swimming. in my headcanon he would gel them down to look more serious.Though i am looking a good english voices claim for him as a teen, if anyone has good recommendations possible voice claim(s) that could work i would love to read them in the comments.

Jataro / While he wears his mask at school and in public he doesn't mind taking it off in his room or being alone his friends. Voice claims for him are Armin Arlert from Attack on Titan and Japanese claim is Izuku Midoriya from My Hero Academia.

Masaru / Was aiming for giving him the teen protag Shonenjump look( like naruto or something lol) Though I am looking a good english voices claim for him as a teen, if anyone has good recommendations possible voice claim(s) that could work i would love to read them in the comments.

Kotoko / For her trying go with a mix of girly/punk/lolita Fashion, I think her current voice actress can still be her claim, but if anyone has good recommendations possible voice claim(s) that could work i would love to read them in the comments.

Art based on my fanfic Danganronpa Ultra Despair Girls AU Hikari Naegi

Link to my Fangan Fanfic of Hikari's prequel here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30681287/chapters/75704858

I made the clothing, Edits to Kotoko For her Alternate Universe look. I made body edits to make the teen bodies

Nagisa, Masaru, Jataro kid models were made by another koikatsu maker called Despair Sauce

Kotoko teen Body Before edits were made by another koikatsu maker called Vergalsama

Despair Sauce - www.pixiv.net/en/users/6794683…

Vergalsama vergilsama922.tumblr.com/

This art was made with Koikatsu Sunshine

The mod scenes borrowed from the Koikatsu discord and pixiv scene sharing pages, credit goes to the original creators

WARNING! its a nsfw Japanese sim game but I use the studio maker and character creation to make non lewd/ sfw art and post art on public platforms that's rated E for everyone.

[jsabtdfandtsoec]

Excuse me, may I borrow a picture of your variation of Cyan for something i wish to construct using the wonders of IbispaintX?

I will be drawing my OC as a plushie immediately afterwards and then seeing what I can draw involving mr. Pentagon player afterwards (DAMMIT IM BEING TOO FORMAL)

*cough cough* sorry, forgot I was still being formal. Anyways, can I borrow a pic of your version of the cyan square player so I can make art of him encountering my JSAB OC for the first time and/or stick my own version of the bean in there?

Uhhhhhh, I'm pretty sure you want a ref of my cyan right? Well, uhhhh. Here you go.

Why are you being so formal anyway? I don't really understand formal english. :') about the square seeing your jsab oc for the first time, his react is probably gonna be like amazed or something, idk, and yes I'm putting the jsab au tag this time cause I'm gonna finally make this version of cyan to a au not at(alternate timeline) sooooo, yeah.

You use ibispaintx to draw too???

[rotting-brains]

there is so much misinfo on DID it's shocking. imo it stems from the fact that social media boosts minorities (not in that sense) of the DID community. I mean minorities as in:

possessive switches are really really not half as common as the internet makes us think

the vast majority of systems has low to no commumication, and, as a system who can communicate, commumication is not like hearing voices for me.

black out amnesia is not the only type of amnesia and it is not the most common. grey out amnesia and emotional amnesia are both included as amnesia in the DID diagnostic criteria.

The problem is that singlets see this minority, convince themselves that these fewer people are struggling more, and ends up boosting their content more, leading content of more common and relatable DID experiences to be pushed down and be seen by nobody.

Alternatively, singlets see this minority and assume that they are faking, boosting their content through shock value. This again causes this content to be the most seen by other people with DID who have yet to discover they have it or are coming to terms with it, and since they can't relate to that experience they assume that they dont have DID because they cant see that DID is not like that for most people.

This is in no way, shape or form an attack towards people with DID who have possessive switches more often or mainly struggle with black out amnesia or whose communication is like hearing voices.

We all have different experiences and that is what we fail to remember.

I myself started question having DID for the first time when I was in middle school and was following a creator with DID. This creator only reported their possessive switches and other parts of their DID, like their tourettes symptom holder, that caused singlets to start fake claiming them (cringe culture was at an all time high).

Because I only ever saw their content (im italian and they are the only italian content creator who's a system that ive ever seen. i didnt speak english well in middle school), I believed I could have never possibly had DID. My switches don't look like theirs, our communicating doesn't look like theirs, I didn't experience black out amnesia. Most people's experience doesn't look like theirs and thats okay.

The only ones to blame are the singlets who fake claimed them and boosted their content so much. All they were trying to do was share info about DID.

(another thing that stuck out to fake claimers was that they had more than 200 parts, maybe 500+ i don't remember. i checked their account recently and they figured out they were poly fragmented this whole time, so maybe their experience is more relatable to poly fragmented systems idk)

[ao3feed-itafushi]

Concussions

by primadonna So Satoru resigns himself to asking the right questions - to seem like he cares - as his PR manager would say. Gojo has had to take a crash-course in PR training over the summer when a interview (not a Tiktoker, but an actually reputable reporter for the fucking NFL) asked him -- Gojo, how do you feel about the new linebacker Kenjaku? And god, was he suppose to know who that was? Cause he didn't. And he knew if he said he didn't, it would make him look bad. He's always looking bad, doing something wrong, saying something wrong.   Or: Satoru is football royalty. Suguru plays for a different team. Romeo and Juliet has nothing on these two. Words: 4022, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M, F/M Characters: Getou Suguru, Fushiguro Megumi, Gojo Satoru, Itadori Yuuji, Nanami Kento, Ieiri Shoko, Haibara Yu (Jujutsu Kaisen) Relationships: Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru, Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji, Ieiri Shoko/Iori Utahime Additional Tags: my first work in the JJK fandom, & ofc its about a white haired male and his depressed bf, WHY CANT I LEAVE THIS TROPE ALONE, Alternate Universe - College/University, star-crossed lovers head ass, they play for rival colleges, American Football, idk what im writing I just write from AO3 works tagged 'Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji' https://ift.tt/DnNs2uZ

[gotiqes]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ conóceme / get to know me

🪞. ⬪ ˙ pinterest. ༺ ♱ ༻ twitter. 👼 🕯

hola 0:-) mi nombre es ego (o gotiqes) tengo 20, soy piscis

la vdd es q escribo mal (intencional) pero acá escribo mejor por estética jj a veces ♥︎ amo la moda gótica, lo relacionado a lo oscuro, macabro, lo terrorífico, que cause incomodidad o miedo pero a la vez amo lo que es adorable ♥︎ disfruto de todos los géneros musicales (en especial lo gótico o alternativo) soy bastante versátil en ese sentido ♥︎ no me molesta hablar por dm, responder preguntas en ask o interactuar en tumblr ♥︎ pueden seguirme en mi tw o pinterest sin miedo, solo tengan en cuenta que en tw soy distinta ya q hablo cada tontera y no tienes q tomar en serio todo lo q digo ♥︎ aquí publico en inglés y español ♥︎

hi 0:-) im ego (or gotiqes) im 20 n pisces

the true is i know english but i don't speak it very well n sometimes idk if i am writing good, please be patient w/me ♥︎ i love goth fashion, things relate to darkness, horror, unconfortableness and fear but at the same time i love adorable things ♥︎ i enjoy every musical gender (specially goth and alternative) but im very versatile in that topic ♥︎ it's doesn't bother me talking in dm, answer questions or interact in post ♥︎ u can follow me on tw or pinterest but keep in mind that im different on tw, i tweet silly things n don't take serious the things i post there ♥︎ here i post in english and spanish ♥︎

[ao3feed-ateez]

Come Kiss me and Bite me

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/yB5H3Ai by berrykittyhwa "That smile, Seonghwa hated how it affected him. His chest tightened, and his thoughts became a blur. He was losing track of what was important, and it was Changkyun’s fault. (...) Changkyun leaned in his personal space, there was no smirk in his face, but he was squeezing Seonghwa’s thigh with force, causing him to hold back a moan. “I could’ve killed you, darling,”." Words: 21995, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: ATEEZ (Band), Monsta X (Band) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Im Changkyun | I.M, Park Seonghwa Relationships: Im Changkyun | I.M/Park Seonghwa Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Human/Vampire Relationship, Vampire Im Changkyun | I.M, Nerd Park Seonghwa, Drinking, Smoking, Strangers to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Dark Character, Dom Im Changkyun | I.M, Sub Park Seonghwa, Loss of Virginity, Virgin Park Seonghwa, they are bad at comunicating, Rimming, Dacryphilia, Coming Untouched, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Making Out, Making Up, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, First Time, Choking, Finger Sucking, Blindfolds, Consensual Sex, but not safe, lube is there somewhere, Use of the word whore read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/yB5H3Ai

[purpletyrant]

re: kittys imaginary sburb session

or, "this mspfa has been tagged as 'nonsburb' for years, these are all the scraps youre getting so let me just overexplain them now in a post that would be better suited for patreon if a KITTYQUEST patreon was something i was remotely interested in maintaining"

now, i know what youre thinking: didnt KITTYQUEST just get its climactic upd8 featuring major character death and a huge mood shift? shouldnt you be talking about that??

well, sure, maybe ill do that someday in the hypothetical KITTYQUEST retrospective video i have floating around in my head. it took long enough to finish - two and a half months, that is. but this panel alone required me to take a ton of personality quizzes while roleplaying as each one of kittys friends, so god damn it im going to analyze all of this right now. read below the cut to learn all about how kitty and her friends (and cousin) would disastrously fail in a doomed sburb session that was never meant to happen

in the most recent upd8, kitty explores the shell of a dream bubble that hasnt been taken in by the black hole yet. this black hole is the one caused by the collapse of the green sun, with lord english at its center. the black hole is devouring everything, as ramona? explains, including the furthest ring, every universe created by sburbs many sessions, and the entirety of paradox space. its an awfully long process, and kittys earth c that we know and love isnt in any imminent danger, but ramona? indicates that many alternative timelines are meeting their end as we speak. in the epilogues, the black hole deposits its garbage onto earth c. in KITTYQUEST, we know as much about where the black hole ends as we do in real life. personally, i view it more as like a Big Crunch. the opposite of the Big Bang, where quadrillions of years from now the last atom of the last molecule will be erased. take from that what you will - KITTYQUEST has never been a story that is interested in grand cosmic abstract ideas. its priorities are much more pedestrian and intimate. who cares about the ultimate fate of the universe when these middle schoolers over here are feeling kinda sad?

ramona? is the vergil to kittys dante, taking her on a journey through hell as kitty processes the traumatic deaths of her parents. a dream bubhell, if you will, the contents of this dream bubble merge the familiar with the imaginary. we see pieces of scenes we recognize from homestuck, but new scenes are introduced as well. most notably is the land kitty wakes up in - the Land of Unicorns and Fractals, a vaporwave dreamscape torn straight from her sburban account. someone once asked why kittys planet isnt a land of Frogs since shes a self-assigned Space player. well, sburban is an mmo. thousands of players cooperate in a massive medium, so not every Space player needs a Forge. but really, this was foreshadowing that kitty is pretending to be a Space player. she wants to be a Rogue of Space because it makes her feel more equal to her parents. but she isnt one, and the name of her land gives it away very early. in addition to LOUAF, we see illusions of ramonas planet, the Land of Wax and Altars, and the lands and god tier forms of her ghostly friends. neither kitty nor ramona? react to these illusions, suggesting that only we the viewer can see them. like ramona?, the reality of them is nebulous. its more likely that they are not real ghosts, but illusions created by the somehow still-functioning mechanics of the dream bubble. like memories of lusii and loving parents, these projections are not real. or perhaps they used to be real - and they are remnants of an alternative timeline doomed from the start

kitty will never play sburb, and she isnt meant to. sburb will only be played on earth c once, by caliborn a billion years from now. anything else goes against the continuity established by homestuck. as such, a session played by these kids will never succeed. but what if the cult of the witch planned better? what if they werent all bark and no bite? what if kitty was thrust into sburb properly, and what if the cult cared enough about her friends and family to ensure she had other players? this is the result we would get. lets take a closer look

Nat Eglish | Sylph of Space | Prospit Land of Dust and Frogs Denizen: Echidna

yeah you heard me right, nat stole kanayas classpect right out from under her. what gives, isnt her family historically tied to the heir of breath? well, take it up with the quizzes that diagnosed her with kanaya disease. i dont know how to classpect, you want me to do it MYSELF? get real. besides, it figures that someone linked to june through her ancestor would be a space player

nat is a go-getter, her mix of interest in both STEM and the arts makes her a formidable student and an excellent sburb player. shes the perfect candidate for the frog breeding task, because even though its a little more organic than the science shes used to, shes great at planning things out and being organized about it. LODAF is a planet originally covered in desert. its frogs are in a fossilized/mummified state. the LODAF we see in this upd8 has been overtaken with ocean and lilypads, indicating that she was successful in terraforming her planet and initiating the frog breeding process. great job nat, we never doubted you for a second. i wonder what her interaction with echidna was like? nat is a pretty easy going individual who steers clear of drama, so maybe she and her denizen were able to strike a deal. why kill a giant snake when you can work together?

nat spends a lot of her early session trying to spur her friends into action. as we will come to find out, the welfare of the other planets is directly tied to her own. so nat is tasked with being the one in the group project who reminds everyone to do their own parts of the assignment. this is hard for nat because she is so laidback by nature. being pushy isnt her thing - she likes to be perceived as cool headed. if her friends dont get it together, nat will risk having to crack her knuckles and start laying down the law

as a space player, her helper is the knight in the session, who loves to be helpful more than anything else. you know him, you love him, its....

Nornsa Moirai | Knight of Life | Prospit Land of Bleach and Coral Denizen: Charybdis

have you ever met a girl more suited to be a knight than nornsa? as the knight of life, nornsa is the unofficial/official sidekick of nat as she runs around turning frogs into slime. he may not be a time player, but he tries his best

much of nornsas performance in sburb is going to depend on whether his family comes with him. hes fiercely protective of his twin sisters, and raises them perhaps more than their perpetually busy father does. if all three come with him, nornsa will likely be too distracted with ensuring their welfare to properly undertake the duties required of him. keeping them safe competes with killing underlings, completing his planets quest, and helping out nat. he would no doubt be stretched to his breaking point. on the other hand, being separated from them isnt much better. though he isnt being held back by the needs of his family, nornsa centers his identify around his ability to help other people, especially his family. the crushing guilt of leaving them behind - perhaps to certain doom - prevents him from performing at 100%. he may fail to live up to his friends expectations, prompting a similar nervous breakdown. there arent many sunny sburb outcomes for nornsa as someone who doesnt live for himself, and this is reflected by his planet

LOBAC is a dead planet covered in bleached coral. nornsas task is to revitalize it for the consorts, who will surely die if the reefs are not restored. moreover, the water from this rejuvenated planet will be necessary in terraforming LODAF, so nat relies on nornsa to complete his quest to complete her own. nornsas planet in this upd8 is restored to full color, which is natural since nats planet is also in full health. the process of revitalizing LOBAC likely involves themes of making sacrifices and being selfish. in other words, nornsa has to make some tough choices to make himself happy. he has to learn how to prioritize what he needs instead of conflating his sense of worth with what he can do for others. ironically, though, once he makes this breakthrough and finishes his quest, his success immediately benefits nat rather than just himself

Capable Greenhorn | Rogue of Light | Derse (you heard me) Land of Chess and Towers Denizen: n/a, later revealed to be Cetus

cg is a slippery creature who defies me whenever i try to get a good idea of who they are. first a hope player (buzzer error noise) and then a mind player, cg finally settled on being a light guy, which i think suits them. cg keeps their cards close to their chest. as a resident of a chessling dormitory, they know how to live communally. they certainly enjoy their alone time, but they are more familiar with being part of a unit rather than an individual. this is all to say that cg is a great sburb hopeful, studious, team-oriented, observant, and slow to act if they arent certain what path to take. theyre very deliberate, and in a sburb session i think theyre easily the brains of the operation. the problem is that theyre... well, a carapacian!

how does sburb deal with a player whos a member of its designated npc species? is it capable of treating that carapacian as an autonomous being? it appears as though it cannot, because LOCAT is a mishmash of skaia, prospit, and derse. little of cgs actual personality shines through, which im sure is frustrating for them. cg is not a person who often experiences the spotlight or special recognition, and being shunted to the side by sburb is demoralizing to them. the only pro to this situation is that LOCAT is able to serve as a teleportation/save point for cg and their fellow players. from the towers rising from its chessboard, players can easily move around without needing to go to sleep or use sburbs other portals. this is perhaps how the water from LOBAC was able to be transferred to LODAF

cgs sburb journey involves finding out who they are as an individual. being cut off from their dormitory siblings is like losing a limb or one of their senses. not only that, but theyre also a derse dreamer - despite being a prospitian. dreaming is dangerous and scary for them, and they have trouble coping with the old carapacian culture that rules the dreaming moons. they dont belong anywhere - prospit will not accept them, derse even less so, and their friends just dont understand. often sleep deprived from the danger of sleeping (i think its also highly likely their dream self would be assassinated), cg struggles to complete their planets quest. at the end though, cg will be delighted to receive the quests reward. LOCATs chessboard will overturn to reveal its true form - a planet that actually reflects who cg understands themself to be. just as carapacians will change their name to signify a new stage of their life, LOCAT will bear a new name as well - the Land of Cathedrals and Turrets

Malibu Tempra | Thief of Heart | Derse Land of Tech and Smog Denizen: Lamia

even before malibu got diagnosed with thief disorder, i knew it was coming. just as nornsa is a knight through and through, malibu cannot beat the thief allegations. she also cant escape being a heart player. trust me, i tried to make someone in this cast be a time player. she just wasnt having it, so i let her be whatever she wants

malibus land is riddled with neon segmented lines reminiscent of a motherboard. its bisected by a neon seam that keeps it together, and at its south pole is a giant mechanism coughing up smog in the colors of malibus psiionics, giving it the appearance of a giant spherical spaceship. its a cyberpunk nightmare, dystopian and colorful and loud. being held back by something loud and colorful is nothing new to malibu, as someone who has a strained relationship with her high-maintenance lusus. malibu is a lot of things. shes edgy and brash and quick to anger, but shes also quite sensitive. she hates feeling forgetten or useless, leading her to put too many eggs in her basket sometimes. this is the same girl who wants to go to both fashion school and a batterization academy - lets pick our battles, malibu. though shes whip-smart and fearless, shes easily discouraged. accomplishing her planets quest will be difficult for her, should she choose to see it through at all. 50/50 on whether she attempts it just because everybody else is doing theirs and she wants to fit in, or ignores it in favor of leveling up and getting that tiger (do the kids in the fandom these days know about 'got tiger'?)

her quest, should she choose to accept it, is clearing the pollution from the pipes in the planets center. like the bleached coral threatening nornsas land, the smog that gives LOTAS its name is a potential killer. previously, i suggested that LOCAT is the planet that helps water flow from LOBAC to LODAF. i think its just as likely that the mechanisms running through LOTAS allow for the same action. the planet itself may have to move across the medium to deliver water to LODAF, and a smog-coughing pollution-riddled land is no good at this task. if this is the case, malibu will have no choice but to put aside her own rash desires and put some serious thought into solving her quest. if not, nornsa and nat can always pass the ocean between their planets bucket by bucket through the towers on LOCAT

our next two players need no introduction. lets start with:

Ramona Flamel | Seer of Hope | Derse Land of Wax and Altars Denizen: Medusa

engulfing ramonas planet is a sea of hot, red wax. it would be more evocative of blood if ramona were human, but nonetheless it evokes a gloom all the same. from pockets in the wax, great columns of smoke rise in a haze that covers the planet. the experience of being on LOWAA is like walking into a church that has been burning too much incense. its consorts are in perpetual mourning - when ramona arrives in the medium, the flame at the heart of her land has been extinguished. the rising smoke from the sea tells us much the same, and LOWAA is at risk of hardening over if ramona cannot reignite the flame. the sea will solidify, and the consorts way of life will be forever altered. you could say this planet is experiencing a flame-L. anyway,

even if ramona didnt have enough mommy issues to level a city block, there is still the looming problem of her chronic illness. TPP is the specter that haunts every aspect of her daily life, and ramona is well aware that on alternia, she would meet a swift and early death because of it. remaining in a state of physiological stagnation is her reality for many years, a neverending nightmare of being trapped in a body that she cannot use to communicate her needs or defend herself. her majority human family cannot understand her, merely chalking up her many medically-excused absences from events as unfortunate but expected. her quest on LOWAA will force ramona to grapple with the trauma she has endured throughout her life due to TPP. living on borrowed time is a major theme of her session. the idea of achieving god tier and potentially curing herself intrigues her, especially since she has a limited amount of her medication left. but this goal competes with the time-sensitive task of reigniting the flame at LOWAAs center. save herself, or save the consorts? or could she save both? her abilities as a seer of hope will certainly aid her, but ultimately ramona will have to do the unthinkable to complete both of these tasks at once: she will have to ask for help. what the fuck, am i right? is that allowed?

i quite like the idea of all the lands in this session interacting with one another. if ramona succeeds in lighting the flame and saving her planet, perhaps the heat will be key to clearing the smog from LOTAS. what do i know? maybe thats how pollution works in sburb. perhaps the cause of the smog is the smoky breath of malibus denizen, lamia, who is curled up inside the center of the planet. the flame would be a great way to scare her off and clear out the pipes

and finally, the girl of the hour,

Kitty Harley-Leider | Mage of Rage | Prospit Land of Unicorns and Fractals Denizen: Chimera

many old homestuck analyses will point out that the lands of the beta kids are seemingly opposite to how the kids outwardly present themselves. im not sure if i 100% buy this, but kittys land definitely breaks this rule. LOUAF is a perfect depiction of how kitty presents herself in the beginning of KITTYQUEST. cutesy and loveable and pastel, this planet is covered in cotton candy clouds (literally, i used cotton candy as an overlay for this lands clouds) and is populated by starry unicorns and alicorns. these creatures play a similar role to the angels on eridans land - they are not consorts, but something else entirely

i dont have to tell you that kitty is... kind of a mean girl. how aware she is of this fact is up for debate, but kittys saccharine facade that she puts on for her doting family is just that - a facade. kitty is not a bad person by any stretch of the imagination, but she has lived a very privileged life. she is denied nothing, doted upon by all who know her, and has been fed the narrative that she is special and precious. i am not entirely sure the extent to which kitty uses her latent rage powers to her advantage when it comes to manipulating her loved ones - or if shes even aware shes doing it - but regardless, kitty is a girl who knows how to keep an act going. whether its pretending to her school friends that shes a normal kid like them, or pretending to her family (sans ramona) that she is a perfectly innocent "CINNAMON ROLL," shes no stranger to the idea that looks can be deceiving. the same is true for LOUAF

kitty will find out the hard way that the uni/alicorns of LOUAF are plaguing it. theyre mean to the bone - they bite, they buck, they kick, and theyve chased the consorts out to sea. she doesnt want to consider that something so pretty could be so dangerous, shes got a unicorn on her shirt for godssake. but despite how bright and colorful LOUAF is, its arid and desolate. the unicorns have eaten all the vegetation, and the land has become a desert. the remaining life is below the sea, where the consorts have grudgingly adapted. the activity underwater produces fractals across the waters surface, giving the land its crystalline appearance. even so, the unicorns are getting antsy with a dwindling food supply, and may take to plucking the consorts out of the sea to eat. kittys quest (heehaw) will be to accept the nature of the darling creatures she loves so much, reclaiming LOUAF for the consorts and earning the approval of the denizen. the consorts, once they repopulate their old home, will thank kitty by giving her the solution to ramonas quest: the remains of the unicorns can be used to stoke the flame in her planet. something something magic something something miracles. the consorts of LOUAF are satisfied knowing theyre helping the consorts of LOWAA, whose lives are also being threatened in a different way

so we can see that all the lands are tied together:

unicorn infestation on LOUAF is exterminated > flame on LOWAA is rekindled > smog on LOTAS is cleared > LOTAS can be used as vessel to carry water from LOBAC to LODAF > LODAF is restored and frog breeding can begin. and LOCAT is the save point and backup to LOTAS

why cant this session work out? well, we have already established that it goes against canon. sburb cannot be played on earth c, not yet at least. though everything fits together decently well here, this session is missing a crucial component. it does not have a time player. there is no equivalent to the beat mesa, no way to initiate a scratch, and no time player to fix fatal errors. not that a scratch would help anyway, because none of these kids were made with ectobiology save for cg. it is simply a nice hypothetical to think about, and a compromise for the folks out there who really, really wanted KITTYQUEST to be a sburb mspfa. sorry! hope this is enough for you

this was an awful lot of words and took a few hours to type. thanks if you read it! i hope the most recent upd8 wasnt too confusing. if it was, just read it a couple more times? our psychopomp ramona? is trying really hard to make the dream bubhell make sense to you

[byghostface]

im so 100% sure flatline listens to pop punk, ik ppl headcannons her to listen to k -pop but im SURE she listens to pop punk mostly

shes to emo NOT to listen to panic at the disco or fall out boy, like…? (this is coming from someone who dresses sorta similar to her n stuff) im not saying she wouldn’t listen to k-pop, just saying she prob doesn’t listen to it on a daily basis

anyway agree or disagree???? also im not trying to be mean to ppl who do think she listens to k-pop, this is just like my personal opinion

As someone who loves the songs you have listed, I kinda agree! Tho I personally think she would listen to Alternative or Indie-pop music too.

And to be fair the K-pop headcanon comes from this panel from the Lazarus Planet issue↓

-[Lazarus Planet: Next Evolution ]-Artist: Laura Braga-

I'm not opposed to the idea of her being a K-pop fan. Because to me, Nika feels like a person who is into different types of music and is more accepting of different ideas than most people do. (In a sense that is similar to how her power can absorb different kinds of skills from death)

To be honest, my experience with K-pop songs was mainly secondhand from my high school classmates. I was more of a Vocaloid person back then because I like to read manga and anime stuff, but I often listen to some English trendy songs too.

Some of my classmates in high school who love K-pop tend to love to dance (often extroverts, similar to Nika), they always find some time to blast the music and do the choreography along with the idols in the music videos. I always thought their enthusiasm was endearing. So, I really like to think that Nika would do the same, and love dancing in general :) I'm a big fan of her doing regular teenagers' stuff!

Anyway, I'm not complaining, cause her liking K-pop enhances my "Nika loves dancing and choreography" headcanon. But I do think that her default, favorite music choices are pop-punk, and punk-rock (now imagine her being a fan of Black Canary, and being friends with Red Canary<3)

[makima-s-most-smile]

okay so i don't know how much you like talking about food (personally i love talking and learning about different cuisines), but good lord does it feel good to talk about food with another European -especially one from a neighboring country

german food is freaking delicious and im so mad that i cant eat pork, because damn y'all use that in a lot of dishes (or at least that's what im thinking about when someone talks about meat and germans), and they all look so tasty and i can just look and smell them and be jealous >:(

Food and I have a complicated history, but I LOVE food culture.

I love the little fights that people have about food (like the ruhrpott people with the berlin people about who made the first real currywurst. Should be comparable to the French war between Pain au chocolat or Chocolatine, if I think about it)

I love potatoes and cannot imagine being a medieval peasant without them. They are so versatile!

And as I get older... Every spring I go feral for asparagus. Which seems to be very German, it seems. Spargelzeit! Lentil or cabbage stew in the winter :d that needs a... uh... mettwurst (google tells me knackwurst in English?) and I dunno if those have a bovine alternative by now. AND BRUSSEL SPROUTS! I hated them, but now I love them. There is so much science in them. Like scientists found out which gene causes them to be overtly bitter and they crossed that out.

But, yeah, German cooking is the wurst. Luckily we have now more than a few alternatives for vegan and/or muslim friends. And they are pretty good. Most of the time... *stares at the dry, vegan sausage that was crumbly* Hm... Now I wanna research why the pig is so important for the German cuisine. I'd imagine that it has to do with it being able to eat nearly everything, so it was surely used, in a way, as a garbage can that will give meat later.

Sadly, I am not very versed about French cuisine. I love the ready-to-eat sauce hollandaise variants for cauliflower and broccoli. And of course, the croissant and the baguette.

*gifts you either a veggie wurst or a bovine wurst*