#page speed analyzer

[beastmarketing]

Boost Your Website's Performance: Tips for Optimizing Page Speed?

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Boost Your Website's Performance: Tips for Optimizing Page Speed?

In today’s digital age, website page speed is a critical factor for online businesses to consider. Slow-loading pages can frustrate visitors, cause them to leave the website, and negatively impact the website’s search engine rankings. In contrast, a website that loads quickly can improve user experience, boost engagement, and increase conversions.

In this article, we will discuss tips for improving your website’s page speed. We’ll cover everything from optimizing images to reducing HTTP requests, and we’ll explore ways to test your website’s page speed so that you can see the results of your efforts.

Optimize Images

Images play an essential role in web design, but they can also be one of the biggest culprits of slow page speed. Unoptimized images can be large files that take a long time to load, causing users to lose patience and leave the site.

To optimize your images, you can start by compressing them to reduce their file size. There are several tools available for this purpose, such as Adobe Photoshop, TinyPNG, and Compressor.io. You can also use a plugin like WP Smush for WordPress sites, which automatically compresses images upon upload.

Another way to optimize images is to reduce their dimensions. Many websites use large, high-resolution images that look great but are unnecessary for the web. By resizing your images to the appropriate dimensions, you can reduce their file size and improve page speed.

Finally, you can use a content delivery network (CDN) to deliver your images more efficiently. A CDN stores your website’s files in multiple locations worldwide, allowing users to access them from the nearest server. This can significantly reduce loading times for visitors who are far away from your website’s hosting location.

Minimize HTTP Requests

Every time a user loads a webpage, the browser sends a request to the server for each file needed to render the page. This includes images, stylesheets, scripts, and other resources. The more HTTP requests the browser has to make, the longer it takes to load the page.

To minimize HTTP requests, you can start by reducing the number of files needed to render your website. This means combining multiple CSS and JavaScript files into a single file and removing any unnecessary files.

You can also use browser caching to store frequently used files locally on the user’s device. This way, the browser doesn’t have to request the same file multiple times, reducing the number of HTTP requests.

Use a Content Delivery Network (CDN)

A content delivery network (CDN) can significantly improve page speed by storing your website’s files in multiple locations worldwide. This allows users to access your website’s files from the nearest server, reducing the distance that the data has to travel.

CDNs are especially useful for websites with a global audience or those that serve large files, such as images or videos. By using a CDN, you can ensure that your website loads quickly for visitors from anywhere in the world.

Minify CSS, JavaScript, and HTML

CSS, JavaScript, and HTML files can be large and complex, which can slow down page speed. To improve page speed, you can minify these files by removing any unnecessary characters, such as white space, comments, and line breaks.

There are several tools available for minifying CSS, JavaScript, and HTML files, such as YUI Compressor, Uglify JS, and HTML Minifier. These tools can help reduce file size and improve page speed without affecting the functionality of your website.

Use Lazy Loading

Lazy loading is a technique that delays the loading of non-critical elements on a page until the user scrolls down to view them. This can significantly reduce page load time, especially for pages with many images or videos.

Lazy loading is achieved by using JavaScript to load images and other resources only when they become visible on the user’s screen. This means that the browser only requests the resources that the user is likely to view, rather than loading everything upfront.

There are several plugins available for WordPress and other content management systems that enable lazy loading, such as Lazy Load by WP Rocket, Lazy Load by WP Forms, and Lazy Load for Videos. By using lazy loading, you can improve page speed and enhance user experience for your visitors.

Enable Browser Caching

Browser caching allows the browser to store certain files, such as images, stylesheets, and JavaScript files, on the user’s device. This means that the browser doesn’t have to request these files from the server every time the user visits your website, reducing the number of HTTP requests and improving page speed.

To enable browser caching, you can add cache headers to your server configuration or use a plugin that handles caching for you. For WordPress sites, popular caching plugins include W3 Total Cache, WP Super Cache, and WP Rocket.

Optimize Your Website’s Code

Your website’s code can have a significant impact on page speed. Bloated, inefficient code can slow down page load times, while optimized, streamlined code can improve page speed and enhance user experience.

To optimize your website’s code, you can start by removing any unnecessary code, such as comments, white space, and unused CSS or JavaScript files. You can also use minification tools to compress your code, as we discussed earlier.

Another way to optimize your website’s code is to use efficient coding techniques, such as loading JavaScript files asynchronously and using CSS sprites for images. By using efficient coding techniques, you can improve page speed and ensure that your website runs smoothly for your visitors.

Reduce Server Response Time

Server response time is the amount of time it takes for the server to respond to a request from the browser. A slow server response time can significantly impact page speed, as the browser has to wait longer for the server to deliver the content.

To reduce server response time, you can start by choosing a reliable hosting provider with fast servers. You can also optimize your website’s code, as we discussed earlier, to reduce the amount of time it takes for the server to process requests.

Finally, you can use a content delivery network (CDN) to reduce server response time by storing your website’s files in multiple locations worldwide. By using a CDN, you can ensure that your website’s content is delivered quickly and efficiently to your visitors.

Test Your Website’s Page Speed

Testing your website’s page speed is essential to see the results of your efforts and identify any areas that need improvement. There are several tools available for testing page speed, such as Google PageSpeed Insights, GTmetrix, and Pingdom.

These tools analyze your website’s performance and provide a detailed report with recommendations for improving page speed. They can also help you identify any issues that may be slowing down your website, such as large image files, too many HTTP requests, or inefficient code.

By regularly testing your website’s page speed, you can ensure that it loads quickly for your visitors and remains competitive in search engine rankings.

Conclusion

Improving your website’s page speed is essential for providing a positive user experience, increasing engagement, and boosting conversions. By optimizing images, minimizing HTTP requests, using a content delivery network (CDN), minifying CSS, JavaScript, and HTML, using lazy loading, enabling browser caching, optimizing your website’s code, reducing server response time, and testing your website’s page speed, you can ensure that your website loads quickly and efficiently for your visitors.

Remember, page speed is a critical factor in search engine rankings

reference

Here are some of the references used in this article:

“The State of Online Retail Performance” (Akamai, 2017)

“Site Speed & SEO” (Moz)

“Mobile Page Speed Study” (Google, 2018)

“How Website Speed Actually Impacts Search Ranking” (Moz)

[icewindandboringhorror]

Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)

[ronelgomes]

BizSuite AI: Make $97-$197 A Day!

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[ghostlysoaps]

Inspiration - @ghcstao3

There's something to be said about the way John "Soap" MacTavish, notorious for his fleeting fancy of any given subject when off an op, hasn't been able to get Simon Riley out of his head. Granted, even before "The Incident" his lieutenant occupied his thoughts frequently. But now, oh, not a minute goes by where his attention doesn't stray, where his eyes aren't drawn to Ghost’s hulking figure, and he wishes they'd been stationed literally anywhere else but the monotone grey of autumnal England.

His sketchbook is filled with pages upon pages of studies. Greens and browns and gold – the myriad of colours hazel can be – despite how none of them feel right. Too saturated, too dark, too light. Too much or too little. Then again... it is near impossible to recreate a work of art after a mere fleeting second of studying the original. La Gioconda del Prado wasn't made with a peripheral glance at Da Vinci's subject – so how is Johnny to do the impossible?

-

"Spar with me."

Ghost pauses with his fork mid-way to his mouth. A mouth Johnny would gladly analyze at length, or map with his own one day, if not for the unhealthy obsession he's taken with Ghost's eyes.

One thing at a time.

His irises are shadowed by the tilt of his head and the presence of eyeblack but there is a subtle difference between them. Johnny is fool enough to think he can see it no matter how shit the lighting. Deluded, even, if his long-suffering best friend is to be believed. They're also dark with question, narrowed with thoughts and opinions kept close at heart.

"Alright," Ghost says and pushes the rest of his dinner away, pausing briefly as if to say something before ultimately deciding against it.

Johnny follows him with a pronounced bounce in his step and speeds through stretching and warming up. It'll be a killer tomorrow but that's a problem for future Johnny. Sore muscles are a small price to pay if it means settling a mystery.

They take their places, circling each other lazily. Johnny, ever the impatient one, lunges first and ends up with Ghost's heavy weight straddling the small of his back a couple minutes later. He grinds his teeth and heaves himself back to his feet. Sweat beads at his temples, his neck, trickling down his spine. Alight with purpose, he throws himself back in the fray.

He sways out of Ghost’s reach, blocking and evading, bouncing on the tips of his toes, throwing punches when it's fitting while he awaits the perfect time to strike. They're both grinning. It's plain as day on his own face, more subtle on Ghost's. The way the corners of his eyes crease gives him away, the shift of his plain balaclava as his lips twitch.

Johnny is focused on them like a bloodhound on a scent and when Ghost tosses his head, tilting it up with a roll of his shoulders, the florescent lights catching them just so.

Oh, is all he can think with the truth of him laid plain to see – how Johnny had been right all along. They differ subtly in darkness but when cast in either sunshine sepia or lightbulb white the contrast between them is stark. One is the deep, dark of pine, a forest green with too many hues to accurately count. It compliments the wooden brown of tree-trunk bark, flecks of whiskey-gold therein framed by pale lashes of nearly the same colour.

A modern day Medusa who stops him dead in his tracks, mesmerised, as Ghost's fist slams into the side of his face with the concentrated power of an eighteen-wheeler barreling into a concrete wall.

-

Ghost's face swims back into view an undetermined amount of time later. Worry etched into the tense way he carries himself. His hands are cupping Johnny’s cheeks, thumbs stroking once under his lower lids before they tilt his head back a fraction. He hovers close, peering into Johnny’s eyes as if they hold the secrets of the universe therein.

"Fuckin' hell Johnny. Anything broken?"

Johnny blinks at him, a dopey smile spreading over his lips like molasses.

Ghost, if anything, looks even more worried.

"Talk to me, Sergeant."

"You've beautiful eyes."

Ghost freezes in place. Gobsmacked, if Johnny were to put an expression to it. He murmurs a string of delightfully innovative curses under his breath, manoeuvring Johnny to sitting upright, and the change in vantage point only makes him a little bit dizzy. The dark spots dancing before his eyes is nothing new, honestly, but they are annoying when they're ruining his view.

"Knocked what little sense you had left right out of your head, huh?" Ghost sounds amused and Soap realises, belatedly, that he might've said all that out loud. "Price'll have a field day with this."

"Take some responsibility an' kiss it better then."

"You're concussed."

"Och aye, an' whose fault is tha'? You and yer bonnie eyes. Could get lost in 'em, y'ken?"

"You're off your head, mate."

"Ahm'nt! An' if you'd jus' stay still for a moment an' lemme look at ye, this wouldn't 'ave been an issue," Johnny grumbles indignantly. Grumbles, because whining is for children and it never works in getting him what he wants anyway. Ghost usually looks at him with the flattest stare imaginable whenever he tries. Horrid man. Johnny kind of wants to kiss him about it.

"Tell you what, Johnny. If you're good–" Ghost slings his arm over his shoulder, kindly ignoring the way his words leave him shivering, "–i'll let you look all you want."

Johnny leans against him when he's levered to his feet, swaying like a branch caught in the wind. "I can be good."

"Mmh. You're gonna listen to the nurses once I drop you off at medical?"

Soap groans and smushes his face deeper into Ghost’s surprisingly comfortable shoulder.

"I'll take that as a yes."

-

Ghost keeps his promises, it is an irrefutable fact, and Johnny can and will take advantage of that with shameless abandon.

Crawling into Ghost's lap with a shit-eating grin, paints and brushes well-within reach, wobbling precarious on his perch until Ghost takes pity and steadies him with scorching hands on his hips feels like a victory despite the dull throbbing in his temple and purpling bruises lapping up the side of his face. There are no protests when he guides Ghost's head this-way-and-that. No complaints are heard even when the warm glow of his bedside lamp shines at his eyes and their kaleidoscope of colours become present again. Ghost keeps his gaze unwavering focused when Johnny's hands rest on his face in a mirror of the day prior – though his eyelids droop down the fraction of an inch. It's intense and intimate and Johnny, no stranger to selfishness when he can get away with it, can't help but be greedy.

"Can you be good for me now, Simon?"

His lieutenant nods as far as Johnny’s hands allow and though him closing his eyes is the opposite of good, Johnny can't fault him when his own slide shut as he brings their faces together for the first time – a new obsession flaring to life in the wake of lips brushing fabric.

[vipwinnie]

“ It’s always been you “

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary : you thought he loved you, and ultimately you were right

You always had a big crush on Théodore. And to your greatest happiness, the alchemy happened with him. You quickly became friends sharing the same interests, and your relationship has only evolved over the years. You had become so close that you could easily pass for a couple.

It was a gentle autumn morning; you had accompanied theodore to get ingredients for a potion. You were on your way back, walking near the lake.

“What a lovely place for a walk, isn't it?” he said, looking out over the peaceful lake.

“Yes, it’s really beautiful here. I really appreciate this peace and quiet.” you replied.

“Me too, it’s like time stops. By the way, you look really beautiful today. “he added

"Thank you, you are very kind. You know, I really enjoy our time together.” you said staring at theodore's face with starry eyes.

“I too, really enjoy every moment spent with you. You’re different from other girls, you know?”

"Really ? How so ?"you asked.

“You are unique, special. I feel really good in your presence. I can not help thinking of you."

“Oh, I feel the same way. You knew how to touch a sensitive chord in me. I’m so happy to be with you.”you said, with the biggest smile on your face.

“It’s amazing how much we are on the same page. I feel like I can share anything with you.”

“I feel so close to you too. It’s like we have a special connection.”

You hadn't noticed that he had stopped walking, looking you straight in the eyes. Stopping yourself, you look him in the eyes. Their eyes met, a shy smile appearing on their lips. Their faces moved closer and closer, their breaths mingling delicately. Everything seemed to freeze around them, the entire world disappearing in a suspended moment. You've been waiting for this moment for so long. But when you think that your lips are finally going to touch each other. But suddenly, Theodore stepped back. You didn't understand.

“I have potions class in 5 minutes, I really should go” he said, walking further away without giving you one last look as if you didn’t exist.

You stood there alone, only the sounds of the lake could be heard. You were lost, the more you thought, the more the tears came. What did you do wrong? Did he hate you? You shouldn't lose faith .

The next time you saw him that day, Theodore's last class was Defense Against the Dark Arts. As usual, you were waiting for Theodore to come out, you were waiting for him leaning against a wall. You saw him come out, so you went to meet him. You took a deep breath and gathered all your courage to go to meet him. Your heartbeat speeds up as you get closer to him.

But when you approach Theodore, he seems to completely ignore you. He doesn't even look you in the eye, as if you were invisible. Your heart breaks into a thousand pieces at this very moment. You feel devastated and humiliated. Tears begin to slowly fall down your cheeks as you hurry back to the dorms. You take refuge in your room, closing the door behind you. Sitting on your bed, you lament to yourself, wondering what you did wrong to deserve such rejection. Thoughts swirl in your mind. You remember every moment you spent with Theodore, analyzing every interaction, searching for answers to your pain.

You wonder if you misinterpreted his signals or if you were just naive to believe that he could feel the same attraction as you. Sadness invades you, your sobs turn into a silent cry of despair. You feel alone, misunderstood and hurt. The questions loop through your head, questioning your own worth and attractiveness. That evening you went to bed, with tears in your eyes. Your sister took a really big hit today.

The next morning, you wake up with a rush of excitement in your heart, knowing that you will soon join the others for breakfast. You secretly hope to meet the eyes of your crush, Theodore. Yesterday, he completely ignored you, but you ignore this disappointment and remain optimistic. Entering the common room, you look for him, but he is nowhere in sight. You feel a slight disappointment, but you refuse to let it ruin your day. You greet your friends and sit down at a table, ready to enjoy this friendly moment. As you start to chat with your friend Pansy, you suddenly hear Theodore scratch his throat. Your heart races with hope. Will he finally speak to you? But instead, he announces in an unsteady voice that he must go back to the dormitories.

You are stunned, unable to understand why he is acting this way. A sadness invades your being as you see him walk away without even glancing at you. You feel rejected and hurt, wondering what you could have done wrong to deserve such treatment. Tears threaten to fall, but you hold back, not wanting to show your vulnerability to others.

You feel lost, unable to understand why Theodore treats you like this. You question your actions, looking for answers in the smallest details of your relationship. Maybe it's your fault? Maybe you're not interesting or attractive enough for him? Theodore's strange behavior doesn't go unnoticed by the rest of your friends either.

“What happened with Theodore? We noticed that he completely ignored you. Draco asked you.

“Yes, I don’t understand his behavior at all. I thought everything was fine between us, but he avoided me and left without saying a word.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s an explanation. It's not normal for him to ignore you like this. He really cares about you, I know that.” reassured you Blaise who was still swallowing his breakfast”

"Exactly. Theodore is a good person and I am convinced that he would never want to deliberately hurt you. He must have a valid reason for his behavior.” Draco continued.

“But it still hurts me. I feel like I've done something wrong or that I'm insignificant to him.” you say

“No, don't think that. You are an incredible person and you deserve someone who treats you with respect and love. Theodore needs to talk to you and explain to you what's really going on." he continued.

"Exactly. Maybe he's going through something difficult right now and he doesn't know how to tell you. You know how he is. But know that this is in no way your fault.” Draco continued in turn.

"Thanks guys. “ you said even if you weren’t really convinced.

Later in the day you tried to find him so you could finally talk to him. As you headed towards his dorms, you saw him in one of the hallways, sitting on the bench with a girl. They seemed to be laughing and chatting, as if they were best friends .

Reality hit me hard. You felt betrayed, devastated. Tears begin to flow down your cheeks, your legs weaken under the weight of pain. You wanted to run away, to escape this scene that was breaking your heart. Without thinking, you started running, your sobs muffling his cries of despair. You walked through the park, feeling lost, betrayed and abandoned. But to your surprise, you heard footsteps behind you. It was Theodore following you, his eyes full of worry and confusion. He called out to you, trying to catch up with you. You stop, turning your tear-stained face towards him.

He approached you, his voice trembling with emotion. He asked you what was wrong, why you had run away in such a hurry.

But you didn't want to hear these words, so you tried it all, you kissed him. His lips pressed against yours suddenly in a sweet kiss, triggering an explosion of emotions in your heart. His hands squeeze with yours tenderly, your lips moving in perfect harmony. It was a kiss filled with passion.

As your lips slowly part, you keep your eyes closed, trying to hold in this magical moment. You can feel the smile on his face, the happiness shining in his eyes. The world gradually regains its colors, and you open your eyes to look once again into the gaze of the one who has just stolen your breath. Theodore approaches you hesitantly, his heart heavy with remorse.

He kissed you back: it was definitely the best day of your life. But I thought you didn't love me? You pushed me away so many times" you say with tears in your eyes.

He kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his. “I’m so sorry…” he whispers, his voice trembling. "I ignored your feelings because I was afraid of mine. I didn't know how to deal with them, so I thought that by keeping you at a distance, I could bury them."

Tears continue to stream down the girl's face as she listens to his words. "But why? Why be afraid of your feelings?", you asked, trying to understand. Theodore gently wipes away the tears streaming down the girl's cheeks.

"Because I simply love you. I was afraid of what that meant, of the vulnerability that it entailed. I was a coward in ignoring myself and I'm so sorry for making you suffer. "

You stared at Theodore, your eyes red and swollen with tears. Despite his pain, you could see the sincerity in his eyes. "I...I feel the same way. I have feelings for you too, but I was afraid to tell you. I thought you didn't feel anything for me."you said.

Theodore gently caresses your cheeks, a shy smile appears on your face. "I'm sorry I was so blind...

You didn't let him finish, interrupting him with another fiery kiss showing all your love for him.

[biocrafthero]

Some Queer Games and Devs to check out this Pride Month

Hello! I play a decent amount of video games, and like making posts about them. This year, I've been making a lot more posts analyzing and promoting games I particularly enjoy. I'm making this post as a way to share games that have queer developers and/or topics to celebrate this year's Pride Month.

All games' websites will be linked in their respective sections, and I urge you to check out any of the games that speak to you. There's a decent amount of variety on this list, so please give all of them a look!

Please note that all of these games are ones I have personally played--I am not including games I have not played yet for myself. If you were hoping for your favorite title to be on here, I am very sorry but chances are I just haven't heard of or played it yet.

ANATOMY (2016)

ANATOMY is a horror game released in 2016 by developer Kitty Horrorshow (she/her). While the game does not contain any queer themes, the dev is openly transgender.

The plot of the game coincides with the gameplay, which centers around walking through a nearly pitch-black house collecting tapes and putting them in a tape player. Despite its simplicity, the game has been commended by many for being "the scariest game they have ever played." The story of the house is uncovered as you listen to each of the tapes, and reentering each time the game shuts you out.

This game features themes surrounding body horror and psychological horror, and one moment that can be seen as a mild jumpscare if it is not expected.

A full playthrough takes about an hour, with multiple endings. However, all roads lead to the same destination.

ANATOMY is available for $3 USD on itch.io.

We Know The Devil (2015)

We Know The Devil is a visual novel developed by the team Worst Girls Games, which consists of Aevee Bee (she/her) and Max Schwartz (any). Music for the game is composed by Alec Lambert.

The plot of the game surrounds three teenagers who have been sent to a religious summer camp in the American midwest. With just one week left, they're all hoping for everything to be smooth sailing, but nothing is ever that simple. On this fateful night, they must face the devil; two will make it out, but one will be left behind.

The gameplay focuses on making decisions on who gets paired up together, and consequently who gets left out of the interaction. These choices determine what ending you get and there are never any wrong answers.

Queer rep in this game consists of polyamory, lesbianism, transgenderism, and transhumanism. There is also mentioned homosexuality regarding a male character that is only ever talked about in passing.

This game contains themes surrounding religion, internalized homophobia, along with general homophobia and transphobia. There are scenes that depict underage drinking, vomiting, body horror, and some moments that can be interpreted as self-harm. Some sound effects in the game can be jarring, along with the track "Incense (Smoke & Honey)" from the OST, a song that plays in three of the four endings.

A single playthrough can take about two hours depending on reading speed. There are four endings, meaning a minimum of four playthroughs.

We Know The Devil is available for $6.66 USD on Steam, Nintendo Switch, and itch.io.

There is also the demo for the game, which is free to download off of the game's itch.io page and baked into the Switch port.

Heaven Will Be Mine (2017)

Heaven Will Be Mine is a visual novel also developed by the team Worst Girls Games, with soundtrack once again composed by Alec Lambert.

The game's plot centers around three factions in the solar system. They have all been called back to Earth under threat of death; two factions want to stay in space, while one is choosing to return. At the start of the game, you can choose one out of three characters to follow the POV of, each belonging to one of the three factions.

Gameplay is similar to We Know The Devil, meaning that you make decisions throughout the story that determine what ending you get. There are no wrong choices, only ones that lean in the favor of one of the faction out of your options.

Queer rep in this game consists primarily of polyamory, lesbianism, transgenderism, and transhumanism. There may be more I am forgetting to mention.

This game contains scenes depicting violence, body horror, and discussions about sexuality, abuse, and trauma. This game is meant for a more mature audience than the others on this list. Some sound effects and music in the game can be jarring. There may be content warnings I am forgetting to put here.

The game has three major story routes and three endings, and each playthrough takes around four to five hours depending on reading speed. At minimum, you will need to play this game three times.

Heaven Will Be Mine is available for $15 USD on Steam, iOS, and itch.io. It should be noted that the price on iOS is different than on other platforms, being listed at $5 USD.

In Stars And Time (2023)

In Stars And Time is a turn-based RPG developed by insertdisc5 (she/they) and published by Armor Games Studios. Music for the game is composed by Studio Thumpy Puppy.

The story follows your typical RPG party, starting the day before the final dungeon and final boss. However, when you go in, you get caught in a trap and die. Time suddenly rewinds, and you find yourself at the day before your party entered the dungeon. You are caught in a time loop, and must find a way to stop the final boss and escape the loops.

Gameplay mostly consists of turn-based combat with enemies, and making the right dialogue choices when talking to NPCs and your party members. There are several puzzles throughout the game that encourage you to use the looping mechanic to solve them.

Queer rep in this game consists of transgenderism (transmasc and nonbinary explicitly, but there are some characters that can be interpreted as transfem, agender, and/or genderfluid), aromanticism, asexuality, lesbianism and homosexuality, and a plot thread that involves t4t romance. All six major characters have canonical pronoun sets. There may be more rep I am forgetting to include here in this list.

This game contains scenes of mild violence, self-hatred and other heavy mental heath topics, one scene of child endangerment, unreality, and optional scenes involving self-harm and suicide.

The average playtime for this game is 26 hours, which increases to 36 depending on how much optional content you engage with. There is technically one ending, but an optional plot thread can get you an alternate version of the ending screen. This plot thread is highly encouraged to be followed.

In Stars And Time is available for $20 USD on Steam, itch.io, Nintendo Switch, and PS4 and PS5.

There is also a previous title titled START AGAIN: a prologue, which is available on Steam and itch.io. This game does not need to be played to understand In Stars And Time, but is highly recommended nonetheless.

Some personal anecdotes regarding each of these games:

In Stars And Time is one of the few games where I saw a character (Siffrin in this case), pointed at them, and said "They're just like me!"

We Know The Devil and Heaven Will Be Mine both have themes of queer solidarity in the face of oppression and it fills me with rebellious rage (positive).

ANATOMY is one of my favorite games ever made, and is objectively the scariest game I have ever played.

Almost all of these games have made me almost cry, which is a very high bar for a game to reach. The only one that didn't is ANATOMY, mostly because it evokes more fear than it does tears for me.

We Know The Devil in particular evokes a very specific nostalgia for me, so the setting and characters hit differently for me than they may for others.

I played In Stars And Time shortly after a breakup and consequently developed the most horrific crush on the character Isabeau. It is frankly quite embarrassing.

[karolamurdock]

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟗𝟗 Pt. 1

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Reader

Sinopsis: The year is 2106. By day, you work as the head of the Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology division at Alchemax. By night, you are the one and only Spider-Woman, fighting tirelessly to protect New York from the tyrannical clutches of crime and delinquency. Your days are spent in an ordinary, organized routine: it's just you, the only barrier between your city and oblivion, dealing with the violence and pain that comes with being a superhero.

Everything is just normal. Then your dead husband appears in front of you, talking about alternate universes, spider societies and canonical disasters, and you discover that all your sorrows, losses and failures were possibly always meant to happen.

What the fuck.

Notes: You can keep track of this little fic on our Ao3 page. In our profile you can also find the Spanish version.

Warnings: Angst, violence, sad reader.

Word count: 2K.

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Dusk painted the city red. The last rays of evening flashed against the lenses of your mask as you gazed, crouched on the edge of the Chrysler Building, at the bustling streets of the City That Never Sleeps. 

The afternoon had been running smoothly, as usual. Minor crimes, a couple of robberys, a botched assault and a small fire that was quickly put out. For the city, it was just another, ordinary afternoon.

Not for you. For you, it was a day of regret. Because that day was the seventh anniversary of the day you became the one and only Spider-Woman.

That day was the seventh anniversary of your husband's death. 

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

Your name is (T/N). You were the victim of an 'accident' that caused an alteration of your genetic code. The machine caused your DNA to mutate, fusing 50% with the DNA of a spider. 

As a result of the incident, you acquired superhuman strength; speed and flexibility far beyond the physical limits of the most gifted human athlete. You had an extraordinary durability, very acute reflexes, ultra-sharp vision and an accelerated healing factor. 

You were also 'gifted' with sharp, venomous fangs which produced a non-toxic substance that paralyzed your enemies, as well as retractable claws on your fingertips that allowed you to easily attach to any surface. 

Your eyes, once glowing (E/C) orbs, had become tinted with a reddish hue that you covered with dark glasses (which served the dual purpose of deterring curious civilians and protecting you from sensory overstimulation). 

The world knew you as a heroine. Selfless, courageous and capable. A fitting antithesis to your civilian identity. An acclaimed geneticist of few words and a fleeting smile. With few close friends, a quiet, cold, almost impersonal apartment. Your only companion was a fat, lazy cat who, like you, fended for himself and appreciated your silent company while taking long naps on your stomach. 

Your days consisted of a long shift at Alchemax, as head of the Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology division, and grueling night patrols as New York's most famous Spider.

You didn't sleep very much. After your long days (with and without the suit), you would finally drop off exhausted and look forward to a short, dreamless rest. Your routine was such. The days finally blurred into one another, and you concentrated on living them one at a time. 

That day, however, something changed. 

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

A commotion was heard in the distance. You watched the smoke column rising near the 5th Avenue, and you quickly changed the direction of your swing to deal with the emerging threat.

You gazed at the strange creature as you glided on the air currents with the aid of the anti-gravity particles emitted by your suit of unstable molecules. Holding on to a streetlight as you analyzed the individual before you, you frowned at his anomalous appearance; the elongated mask, the green suit and the archaic glider. His maniacal laughter filled the street, and the fire reflected in his orange glasses as he turned his head in your direction. 

The smile carved into his mask would have caused you to shudder with revulsion had it not been for your sour mood. You were already late to leave the arrangement of carnations on your husband's grave. You were hoping to get it over with that lunatic quickly so you could spend the rest of your night in your bed, marinating in your loneliness. 

"Well, well. What do we have here? You're not the spider I'm used to playing with."

"I'm the spider that will put an end to your fun". You replied. "What do you want?"

The creature laughed, and... flickered? Like a failing hologram, his own form superimposed upon itself in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that took a second to return to its place. 

You frowned, suddenly feeling more alert, and braced yourself when the creature threw two orange spheres in your direction as it laughed:

"Never mind! After all... This will be another world to conquer."

Catching the spheres with your webs, you threw them into the sky, accurately predicting the great explosion that lit up the night sky, away from the terrified crowd running away from the scene. 

You dodged the projectiles hurled in your direction, and somersaulted through the air as the individual lunged at you, clawed hands outstretched in your direction. 

You aimed your webs again; the gleaming golden ribbons wrapped around your wrists, and used a manhole cover to spin around and propel yourself into the air, crashing the hard metal into the glider and ducking behind a smoking van across the street. 

The creature jumped, and his ruined glider crashed into a streetlight, causing an explosion of sparks to rain down around you. 

"You may not be my spider. But you're just as sneaky. Come here!"

And he leapt forward, lashing out with his claws aimed at your throat. You deflected the blow, but he was quick and turned around to throw a punch that landed on above your eyebrow. Your vision blurred, and you blinked in surprise as you had to take a couple of steps back from the shock. This creature... it seemed to have an idea of your range of motion, as well as a brief notion of the range of your reflexes. 

Not the spider you're used to playing with.... 

Before you could give the idea any more thought, you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye, and you reflexively spun around with a kick that hit the creature squarely in the chest, throwing him back a few feet and drawing a pained laugh from him. 

"You're strong... just like him." The creature coughed. "You're fast... just like him." He took a couple of slow steps around you, and scanned you up and down. Your dark suit, your upright posture, and the evident claws in your hands. "You even look like him... but you're not Peter Parker, are you?"

You hid a shudder by crouching against the ground in a battle stance. This creature... 

You had no time to ramble. He came at you once more, and you used your webs to leap away from his thrusts. You jumped over a streetlight, and watched him rip the door off a pickup truck to throw it in your direction. You kicked it out of the way, a second too late to notice the small orange orb stuck to the side of the door. 

His mocking laughter was lost in the roar of the explosion. Your body was hurled toward the concrete, and you barely had time to cover your head before you hit the ground, hard. 

Your ears were ringing, and you tasted blood where your fangs scratched the inside of your lips. You remained motionless, listening to the crunch of his footsteps approaching to your collapsed form. You counted the seconds, watching the creature's fluctuating reflection against the cracked windows around you. 

In other circumstances, against any other opponent, you would have jumped up at once and taken the battle elsewhere, away from the street. But in this situation, you didn't want to give the anomalous creature a chance to escape, or else... to see more of your world. You didn't like the way his mask swiveled, taking note of the towering buildings and iridescent lights. The lenses of his mask paused an extra second on the giant letters above the OSCORP tower, and you heard his curious humming just as his hand reached out to grab you by the neck. 

You finally moved, and twisted his arm, breaking the archaic armor with your claws as you summoned your superhuman strength to smash your other elbow into his mask. 

The impact shook his head, and you briefly glimpsed a small glowing eye through a broken lens before feeling the air against your chin as your suit retracted to allow you to plunge your venom into the creature's exposed forearm. 

You watched his breathing quicken. Finally, you released him, and you exchanged a couple of blows that rapidly decreased in intensity and force. When he stopped flailing, and you finally beheld his stiff muscles and slumped figure, you threw him against a parked vehicle, mentally apologizing to the poor owner, and wrapped several webs around it, forming a golden cocoon that covered him almost completely.

You watched his perpetually smiling expression, and lifted your arm to wipe your lips, ready to shred the rest of the mask and find out the identity of that you were taking to the authorities that night. You could already hear the sirens in the distance. 

And then you heard the clattering of stones all around you. 

Debris and stones rose a foot in the air. You watched in morbid bewilderment at the flickering lights, the creature, slack against the hood of the vehicle, and you briefly averted your gaze only to behold a blue hand tearing the air, the fabric of reality stretching into a luminous hexagon, edged in orange, pink, and yellow colors. A blue silhouette appeared from the center of the hexagon, and you watched in horror as a person sprang into existence right under your nose. 

Your mask quickly returned to its place. You fell into a defensive position. With one hand against the pavement and another poised in the air. The man, whom you now recognized as such, wore a piercing blue suit with red lines that seemed to converge in a spider design... a design eerily similar to yours. Even his mask, with lenses edged with sharp red lines, resembled your own dark mask. 

"Thank you for your support. We'll take it from here." He said, and motioned to the creature as he ordered, "Ben."

Distantly, through the sumptuous flow of blood you felt ringing in your ears, you became aware of the arrival of another hooded figure, wearing a red suit, blue vest, and a mask that matched the popular spider theme. 

For the first time in almost 6 years, you had difficulty articulating your words. Your tongue felt heavy, your fangs were once again too big for your mouth, and you dug your claws into the concrete to keep yourself upright in the face of the flood of anguish that completely overtook you.

His voice... 

"I don't think so." You took a step in the direction of the Spider... Man, the one with the blue vest. "Who are you, and what do you have to do with that creature?"

"It's classified." Replied the tall, broad-shouldered man in the blue suit. At his response, you held your ground in front of the creature, though you watched... Ben? Analyzing the individual slumped over the car. 

"He's alive. He's not unconscious, he's..."

"Paralyzed." Said the man and you at the same time. And Ben jumped on his toes with his hands covering both sides of his mouth. 

"Could you be...?" He started. But the mistery man wouldn't let him continue.

"That's the Green Goblin over there. In his world, he's Norman Osborn, previous CEO and ex-president of OSCORP. He became the Green Goblin after experimenting with a serum that drove him insane." 

You frowned, but grudgingly allowed Ben to restrain the newly named Green Goblin as you took a close look at the burly man in front of you. 

His broad back. His big arms, his lean waist. 

His firm pose. His beautiful voice. 

"We are Spider people. Just like you. Our job is to deal with anomalies like him, who threaten other worlds by slipping through the cracks between realities. The fate of the multiverse depends on it. "

You had difficulty wrapping your mind around the idea, but you didn't let your hesitation show in your posture.

"If you come with us, we can show you. You did a good job containing this anomaly. We could make good use of your support." 

"Who are you?"

His mask retracted. An invisible hand wrapped around your throat, and you felt the ghost of your own venom paralyzing your body; perhaps finally your DNA had destabilized, and you were suffering a biological rupture. It had to be a manifestation of your delirium: his dark curls, his high cheekbones, his strong jaw. 

"My name is Miguel O'Hara, and I am the leader of the Spider society."

You closed your eyes. 

He held out his hand, looked at you, and you thought you saw his eyes softening a little.

Then you dug your claws into his throat.

[avelera]

"Sometimes it's not that deep," aka, How to Write a Mystery (That's Actually There)

A good rule of thumb about predicting a well-written mystery is that other people are predicting the same things. Even better if a lot of other people, on their own, are analyzing the material closely and each, on their own, are reaching the same theories and conclusions! Yes, this can mean everyone's falling for the same red herring too, of course, but generally speaking, no writer is putting all that effort into writing a mystery only one person can solve.

The thing is, a good mystery should be predictable, but at varying speeds based on the attentiveness of the audience.

The most laser-focused readers (or viewers), the true Holmesian mystery-solving mystery readers with encyclopedic knowledge and a fine-toothed comb to go through the material, should be ahead of the characters trying to solve the mystery, but not so far ahead that the story becomes boring, ideally. Your mystery shouldn't be so predictable that it can be figured out on page one but, if a truly clever sleuth does figure out your mystery on page one, your story should also be good enough that it is still an enjoyable tale even if the audience know how it ends.

The attentive reader should figure out the mystery at about the same time as the main character. They should have the "Aha!" moment about two seconds before the character solves it for that little thrill of feeling very clever, which to authors is very funny, because if we're doing our job right, we didn't just set the clues for you to solve the mystery, we agonized over the timing of each clue's introduction just to make sure you got that little thrill of self-satisfaction at the moment we wanted you to.

The casual reader should figure out the mystery when the characters figure it out. They should get the enjoyment of seeing the mystery solved, and in retrospect be able to see the clues, but in the meantime have enjoyed their time nonetheless. It should be a good story on its own.

Now, this is relevant to fandom theory mongering because clues are not accidental. And there are usually a lot of them, if the author is doing their job. Yes, you should be able to analyze the costume colors to see that there are parallels between the green dress or whatever that the lead is wearing in this episode and how it's a call back to another episode and that means blahblahblah is going to happen, but, that sort of deep-cut, freeze-frame sleuthing is usually only in support of more overt clues intended for general audiences.

(Not to pick on any one fandom, but Ted Lasso S3 for example had a lot of Tedbecca shippers looking for hidden clues in the cinematography as their hopes faded for a canon confirmation of their ship. Alas, those didn't bear out, because they were not accompanied by textual evidence in addition to the subtextual evidence of how any moment now, these characters are going to stop dating and pursuing completely different people and actually hook up with or even verbally express confirmed interest in each other.)

Of course, a mystery can be tough to solve and be satisfying! It is sometimes even possible to solve those truly out there or even not yet fully supported mysteries that eventually turn out to be true (say, predicting a later book in the series before all the clues are even there from installments in the meantime). It can be really satisfying to correctly extrapolate from incomplete data before the author even intended you to see it or had figured it out themselves!

However, more often than not, the clues are deliberate and to assume you're the only one seeing them is probably a sign that they're not actually there.

A good mystery, a well-written one, should provide all the clues for the audience to solve the mystery on their own, within the text, even if the last few pages are ripped out. A good mystery is not a "gotcha". And a sign of a good mystery is that more than one person can pick up on all the clues because those clues are placed deliberately and yes, that requires a certain amount of sign-posting as well and in fact, one of the most fiendishly difficult things to do as a writer is strike the proper balance between sign posting your clues at just the right time to reward your attentive audience with enough data to solve the mystery just before the characters do, but not so early that they lose interest.

So, why is this important for fandoms? Because it's entirely possible to go down the conspiracy theory rabbit hole and convince yourself of stuff that's not there and then get really bummed when it doesn't happen. We're all guilty of this, myself very much included, especially in the largely subtextual world of slash shipping.

There's also real world exceptions and extenuating circumstances to my statement that a good mystery will actually provide the clues: like studio changes, dropped threads due to contractual complications, or a crowded writers room where not every idea gets pursued.

Plus, we've got the whole goddamn JJ Abrams-inspired mystery box bullshit run of television making creators think it's cool to pull one over on the audience and deny the clues they set up just to make a "twist" that no one predicted because it wasn't there, thus betraying the principles of a good mystery, and that also muddies the waters about how good mysteries should be written. (If you can't tell, I absolutely despise writers who pull this bullshit with the intent to trick their audience and they do not deserve any praise for being "clever" to just surprise people with an outcome that's not supported by previous text ala "rocks fall, everyone dies", ugh.)

But besides the damned mystery box crud, there are some good rules of thumb for determining if the clues you're picking up are real or not:

Is the subtext supported by text? Not "is her green dress backed up by a micro-expression glance you can barely see if you freeze-frame the show" but actually in the text. Does someone say, in dialogue, "Hey, we should go on a date," when you're reading subtext between two characters and can you be certain that the writers intended that text to be read the way you read it? One way to tell is if this sort of thing happens more than once, if there are more clues. Of course, there's also red herrings, etc, and hey, that's half the fun of a mystery, not all clues are Clues. But generally speaking, there's more than one clue for important stuff.

Is there evidence against your theory and have you considered it? This is basic Logical Thinking 101, of course, but only looking for evidence that confirms your theory and ignoring everything that doesn't will definitely convince you of some pretty wild stuff in a hurry!

Have you considered the genre of the work and whether it even has mysteries? Or is it, for example, a comedy which might address those "clues", most likely comedically, but might just as easily not even realize they were seen as clues?

But mostly importantly: do other people have this theory? Did they arrive to it on their own, based on the same text? If you are the only person with a theory and cannot use textual evidence to convince more than one person who is not of the same background as you (ie, convince your less-progressive dad that these two guys definitely want to boink based on the way they look at each other) there is a very likely chance you are stringing together disparate data points to match your desires, not the evidence. Bonus points if, seriously, you can convince someone who is of the same demographic as the content creators (writers, directors, etc.) that these clues are intentional. Most likely, your less-than-progressive dad has more in common with the thought process that went into creating the vast majority of content than your average Tumblr user does. (OFMD is the exception that proves the rule.)

As a final note, one thing it's very dangerous to do as a writer is introduce the idea of clues and a mystery without making your mystery air tight. Mysteries invite the reader to put their brain on high alert. It means they're looking for clues everywhere and even seemingly innocuous throw-away descriptions or the camera lingering on a random prop for too long can be misinterpreted and end up pissing off the audience who thinks it's a Clue.

You have to be so deliberate with a mystery, because it's not about just controlling the clues you release, but controlling the perception of the audience so they know what isn't a clue (unless it's a red herring, of course). That's part of why scifi author David Brin said all aspiring writers should have their first novel be a mystery, because it teaches you volumes on how to control your narrative and make everything intentional.

[aetherdoesthings]

I heard you wanted requests and I came running Aether. I fucking bolted. I cannot tell you how fast I pressed the 'ask' button. Also, if you're still sick make sure to take care of yourself first before doing requests!!!!

Anyways. Robin x gn!reader requested as always :3333 so there's this specific scene in my head thats been playing in my head lately and I crave hurt/comfort.

Either Robin or Reader being insecure about having scars and thinking their body, and the other reassures them that they love them regardless by kissing them/tracing them. And it's a bit suggestive? Like it's not meant to be sexual but one of the two is at least half-naked. I'm not sure if this is okay to request as an anon. If not, totally reject this, but I oust thought it's a cute idea.

And need I remind you that regardless you do it or not ill always love your work and will patiently wait if you do? No, I don't? Great. Anyways, love ya aether my beloved, stop manifesting hanahaki

-Enies Lobby anon (patiently waiting for pt.4 of hanahaki [I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure])

you can tell by that last statement how long this ask was asked 😭

forethoughts: apologies this took a while; this one hit a little too close to home for me :_). there's been a lot happening in my life, including but not limited to a stalking man whom tried to manipulate me :D. regardless, i hope you enjoy this one!! went back to my roots of a nico robin lover for this.

notes: made this one fem!reader because i wanted to write this to my younger self. robin is naked in this. they don't fuck, but robin and reader is like 1 1/2 naked. really soft and fluffy. word count: 2k

“Do you have anything else you have to do tonight, Y/N?” You looked up from the book Robin had gifted you, to find the gifter herself standing in your doorframe, her arms resting on top of one another as she gave you a warm smile. You slipped a piece of paper in the pages of the book, before standing up and facing your girlfriend. 

“Uhm, no, not really. Why’d you ask?” You replied. It wasn’t uncommon for Robin to suddenly pop up in your room ever since you had confessed your feelings to her. Although you slept in her room now, you still used your room as your study to do your work and to hide from everyone else when your social battery went down. 

“I was just wondering if you would like to join me for a bath. We’ve been together for quite a while now, and if you’re alright with it, I’d like it if we could bathe together.” Robin proposed.

Your heart did a backflip, dropping all the way to your stomach. You knew this day would come; you just didn’t know it would come this soon. Ever since you had confessed your feelings to Robin, the day that the two of you would be comfortable enough to bathe together was like a doomsday countdown in your mind. It wasn’t that you did not want to see what Robin looked like underneath two layers of clothing, but something else that had been gnawing at you for years of your life.

“Uhm…” That was the only sound that escaped out of your mouth; the rest were lost in the abyss of your mind. 

“It’s alright if you’re not comfortable; I do not wish to do something that makes you feel uncomfortable for my sake. Still, you should still take a bath soon. It’s getting late.”

“Well…” You sighed, shaking your head. Your fingers twiddled around the hem of your shirt, scrunching it up and releasing it. You could feel Robin’s eyes casted onto the top of your head, encouraging the neurons in your brain to speed up and think of an answer. 

“I… I guess… I should take a bath… we could do it together…” You regurgitated each word, looking at the wooden floorboards. Robin’s eyes analyzed your entire body, nitpicking each detail and examining your facial expressions. She did that everytime you were upset or doing something uncharacteristic. Still, it made you feel like you were under scrutiny by your own girlfriend who had also confessed her love to you. 

“Are you sure?” Robin simply asked.

“Y-Yeah. Totally.” You nodded your head, despite your eyes still downcast. Robin let out a sigh, accepting that you weren’t going to give her any other answer.

“Alright then. Let’s go.”

Everyone had unpredictable showering schedules: Luffy and Zoro could go on for a week, Usopp and Chopper every three days, and everyone else would shower every day. Franky had built bathhouses for each gender, so that you, Nami and Robin wouldn’t have to share the same bathhouse with Sanji. Compared to the boy’s, the bathhouse you shared with Nami and Robin always smelled like tangerines or lavender, depending on who used it last. The water was warm (thankfully), and every amenity you could ever need for person hygiene was available. 

Since Nami had just used the shower, the room was filled with the smell of tangerines. You didn’t mind it; you were used to the smell after being part of the Straw Hats for a while. You walked into the bathhouse behind Robin, your eyes gazing at the woman face a wall, removing her clothes without any problem at all. One second, that navy blue jacket and salmon sarong skirt was on her body. The next, she was fully naked and already heading towards the tub. Your feet were glued to the wooden planks below, eyes glued to the sight in front of you. 

Your contact with her was severed as Robin turned her head to look at you, a quizzical look on her face as she observed your fully clothed body standing feets away from the tub. A phantom flick on your forehead brought you back to reality, your mind racing with thoughts that triumphed over Robin's voice.

“Y/N, is something wrong?” The four words drove into that tiny bottle you kept near your heart, cracks starting to appear. Robin had moved closer to the edge of the tub, a hand resting on the wooden frame. Her brows were furrowed, her lips pursed as her eyes analyzed your body again, reading you like a poneglyph.

In the midst of the bathhouse, you could hear your heartbeat thud over the sound of the water moving around. If you could hear it, Robin could definitely hear it too. There was no point in hiding anything from her; she was Nico Robin. 

In your silence, Robin spoke again. “Is something on your mind that’s bothering you? Would you like to talk about it?”

Robin was always aware of how you felt at any given moment, and she was always willing to give you space and let you decide how you wanted to proceed with anything. Robin was the buoy you desperately clinged onto in the middle of a raging storm in the seas. The rope was never weathered down by the heavy downpour. Everytime Robin did something, said something, you could feel your body moving along with the rope, dragging you ever so close to the place you knew you were safe in.

Safe. Safe. That was what Robin was. Safe. With her around, you always felt safe. She always listened and paid attention to all your needs and made sure you were alright. She always went out of the way to make sure you were healthy and well. She was the one that was there to remind you you were loved when you yourself forgot to. Safe.

“Uhm…” Your voice cracked; even with just one word you could feel the corners of your eyes beginning to burn and body shaking alongside the ship. “T-There’s something that is on my mind, and i-is bothering me.”

You were actually doing this. Every part of your body was screaming at you, protesting and shutting down. Despite what you thought and believed, your body rebelled. You couldn’t blame your body; of course they would try and protect you from harm or stepping into unknown territories.

Robin stayed quiet, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. It was her way of telling you that you were welcome to say whatever you wanted, and she would be there to listen.

“I…” You bit your dry and cracked lips, looking down at your feet. “Remember that fight we had with the marines a few weeks ago?”

“Yes. I recall you were injured.” Robin’s stoic expression broke as she remembered your injury that left you immobile. However, she does not interject, letting you continue.

“It’s better; Chopper says I’m okay now, but…” You sighed. “Ever since then… I’ve become scared. I’ve become terrified to look in the mirror without my clothes on, let alone have anything that exposes… you know.”

A steady stream of air exits out of Robin’s mouth. When no words could roll off your tongue, Robin stood up from the tub, drying herself with the help of her multitude of hands. She walked over to you, causing your heartbeat to feign a heart attack. “May I?”

“S-Sure.” You didn’t know what Robin was going for, but you weren’t too disappointed with the results. Robin set the back of her fingers alongside your cheek, before cupping your face with both of her hands, tilting your head to face her.

“My darling…” Robin whispered, her hands moving down to your shoulders. “Can I see? Please.”

“Why do you want to see something… horrendous?”

Robin frowned at your choice of words, shaking her head. “Y/N, nothing about you is horrendous. Your mind, your body, your heart, none of that. You are perfect. You are who you are, no matter what. Please don’t call yourself horrendous when all I can see is goodness and kindness. I don’t want you to be terrified of the shell that protects that loving and caring heart of yours. I don’t want to see you be ashamed and afraid of your own skin.”

The corners of your eyes begin to burn. With just one blink, the floodgates burst open. You stood there in front of Robin, your shoulders rising and falling, choked and garbled sobs exiting your mouth as tears rolled down your face. Your heart churned, fighting off that foreign feeling that felt so wrong, but so right at the same time. A paradox of emotions. You felt so wrong for breaking down in front of the person you called home, but so… good for breaking down in front of the person you called home.

“Shh… Sh… it’s alright. You’re safe. You’re safe, Y/N. You’re alright.” Robin’s arms wrapped around your head, pulling you closer to her chest. Her still nude chest. In any other circumstances you’d be thrilled at the situation you were in. But vulnerability overpowered lust, and you let out a choked sob, burying your head in between Robin’s supple breasts, allowing yourself to melt into your touch and allowing yourself to be comforted. Drunk on overwhelming comfort and love, you didn’t even notice Robin’s duplicate hands lift your shirt up. You reluctantly removed your hands around Robin’s neck, moving away from your lifeline as your armor was stripped away. A choked protest exited your mouth as Robin placed her hands on your bare shoulders, not allowing you to run to her like a child to her mother. The only sound in the room was your heavy breathing, running faster than your heart was. When that familiar feeling of her hand removed, you stopped breathing, the deafening silence filling the room. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. She’s mad. She’s disgusted. She’s repulsed. She’s-

Soft lips were planted on one of the many scars littered on your body, then again, trailing downwards. Robin’s tongue flicked against your bruises, kissing it and swirling around the area. Her hands were around your waist, head making its way towards every scar you bore. Every kiss, every little touch or lick sent spiders up your spine, a shocked gasp involuntarily leaving your mouth. 

“My beautiful. My beautiful Y/N.” Robin murmured, her breath against the most vulnerable and hidden spots of your body. You stifled a gasp, your hand shooting up to your mouth as Robin continued to kiss every single abnormality from your skin. “My beautiful. My strong Y/N. I am so proud of you. I am so proud of you for being so brave. I love you so much. My love, in this vast world, you alone are the epitome of grace, the prettiest in the world. How could I ever be repulsed by the sight I see?”

Robin stood up, her hands slithering from your waist to your cheeks, as she wiped your tears away. She looked at you with a smile, kissing your forehead, your nose, and finally your lips. When you couldn’t breathe and choked on your breath, she was there, giving you the oxygen in her lungs to breathe, to stabilize yourself. When your legs couldn’t hold your body, she was there, holding you up with her arms. 

When you couldn’t speak, when all you could make was choked sobs and unintelligible rambles like a baby, Robin was there. She was always there. “My love, never be ashamed of the scars on you. They are a testimony to the challenges you face. They tell the story of a battle you fought, and won. Do not deny them, for your scars do not make you weak. They make you strong. My strong beautiful Y/N. My love.”

[medali-meltdown]

#silverstreakshippingweek yeah!!!

🔥🍙Day 1: Confession / Battle🍙🔥

A blazing fire engulfs Centiskorch's long body as he curls himself into a ring, rolling in a blur at his target. In the blink of an eye, Staraptor takes flight, just missing those barreling flames. Kabu watches his opponent with a seasoned Leader's eye. Larry is an experienced Gym Leader as well, but Kabu's thrown him off guard. Larry tenses, fully at attention. This is not the routine series of battle commands he's so used to. Kabu hides his pleased smile as he assumes coach mode.

"Use Brave Bird," Larry orders his hovering Pokemon. Staraptor's body glows with a blue aura, which appears to shield him from the flames. He dives down and straight at Centiskorch, tackling him head-on. Staraptor recoils from the intense attack, shaking off the damage done to himself.

Centiskorch is not in much better shape. "Now, while it's stunned, Fire Spin!" shouts Kabu.

Larry clenches a fist. He's really invested in this battle, and Kabu is pleased to see it. "Quick, Aerial Ace!" he shouts, almost panicked. In a grey blur, Staraptor speeds through the spinning flames to attack Centiskorch directly, beak first. It's extremely effective — Centiskorch wobbles while the flames he's controlling vanish into thin air. And then all nine feet of him collapse to the ground.

"Ah—" Larry says softly, the stunned look having not left his grey eyes.

"Congratulations." Kabu's smile comes out in full force now. "I knew you had a fire in you. We just had to bring it out one way or another."

Larry just pets the back of his Staraptor’s neck, lost in thought. “Huh,” he answers after a moment. “I really didn’t think we’d beat you.”

Staraptor whips around to his trainer with an indignant squawk. “Sorry,” Larry tells him. “But Kabu’s strong. He puts his all into battling, he’s determined to win.”

“In the end, I just couldn’t beat a member of the Elite Four.” Kabu strides across the field to join the winners. “You two are strong as well. I’m quite impressed.” He holds his hand out to Staraptor, and, earning his approval, starts stroking his neck feathers. “I could benefit from training with some of your tactics. There’s still a lot I have to learn.”

“Eh.” Larry shrugs. “I don’t think I do anything that calculated. Just whatever seems best for the situation. Makes sense to me.”

Kabu laughs sharply. “Ha! A genius at work. And he doesn’t even know it. So, per the terms of our wager, it appears I owe you dinner.”

Larry’s stomach lets out an audible growl. “Mm… that’s a good idea. Battles tend to increase my appetite.”

Kabu grins up at him. Larry’s face is expressionless, but Kabu can tell from his eyes (at least, from this angle) that he’s proud of his win and eager for a nice meal.

"Hmm… I'm up for anything, really," Larry says with a shrug.

"Well, what's your favorite dish?"

Larry rubs the back of his neck, staring off to the side. "Honestly? I really like onigiri. They're simple, but you can add just about any flavor you want. Plain ones are good too."

"I know just the place, then. I passed it on my jog this morning. I could go for an onigiri or two myself, now that you mention it. Or some nigiri."

"Tatsugiri's?" Larry asks. "I went there for my first meal in Pasio. It's excellent." He sends his Staraptor back to his ball as the two of them leave the battlefield.

"Glad to hear it! Mind if I grab a shower first? I worked up a bit of a sweat there."

"Uh… I guess not, but you look fine. It's just a friendly bet dinner, not a business meeting."

Kabu laughs softly, shaking his head. "Larry, I've got a bit of a confession to make."

"Oh?"

"I challenged you to a battle and set that wager so I'd have a good reason to ask you to dinner."

Larry blinks. "Mm? You could've just said 'let's go to dinner.' There's no need to overcomplicate things."

"True… but as a fellow Gym Leader, I knew you'd enjoy going up against me. Analyzing my skill, studying my reactions. As I did yours. I think we're on the same page here. I'd like to take you out to dinner… as a date."

"Oh," says Larry. Then his thick eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "Ohhh."

"What do you say?" Kabu smiles, holding back laughter at how cute he looks stun-spored like that.

"I'd say you want to go out with a boring guy like me?"

"Sure I do. And you're not so boring. I felt your passion on the battlefield, and I know there's more where that came from."

Larry flushes, clearing his throat and loosening his tie. "Guess I'd better go get cleaned up a bit too…"

"That's the spirit." Kabu pats his back. It's great fun making him flustered. This is going to be a delightful evening.

[frenchfrysplash]

.

hey under a read more because this is just some thoughts

watching the fun kathryn hahn show (haven't seen the finale yet) has got me analyzing my own reactions to television and media and I just want to take a moment to type it out into the void

basically I feel so anxious, and I've been struggling to identify why. like, I am really enjoying this show, but before I watch an episode I feel my stomach twist and my heart speeding up and I know it's anxiety. seeing spoilers or not seeing spoilers doesn't seem to make a difference - for example, I was so friggin TENSE before episode 5 because I had seen spoilers, and then I watched the episode and it was just....an episode. of a thing that I like. for the next couple episodes I tried blacklisting the title of the show and that STILL didn't work.

and I recognize that this is stupid! I recognize that it's not that fucking deep! and it's not specific to a show, this has also happened with legends of tomorrow and critical role. I think I can trace this back to watching carmilla and waiting for new episodes to drop. these are all pieces of media that I absolutely ADORE.

I do notice that it seems fairly specific to shows that are week-to-week rather than dropped all at once. But I also am of the strong opinion that week-to-week is the better way to release things. so what does that mean for me?

does this come from the anxiety of waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak, like with the 100 and lexa? like i'm just waiting for something terrible to happen to the characters I like, or the creators to make a choice I disagree with? (and if that's it, how stupid and entitled am I?) I was always that kid that skipped to the last page to make sure my favourite character survived. Or does this come from getting too hyper-fixated on something. I have all these memories of starting to watch a show with a family member or talking to a friend about something and then getting so into it or having too strong (and kinda dumb) opinions that the person no longer wants to talk about it or watch it with me. Does it come from that?

I have tried very hard in the last few years to just remove myself from these types of situations, and focus on other things I enjoy, like hobbies or reading or whatever. obviously I still watch tv shows, I just tend to wait until they're over, or watch old ones (the x-files, xena), or if they're so far ahead (critical role), or ones that drop all at once.

but it's just very frustrating to feel like this about things I enjoy and like. I can see how much love went into the kathryn hahn show, and I have really enjoyed watching it, but this anxiety it just ridiculous. am I just never going to be able to properly like things?

anyway this is just rambling - if you have read this, know that yes, I'm in therapy, I plan to talk about this aspect of my personality, I'm just writing into the void.

[ladylynse]

Part 2 of this untitled Doctor Who fic where 10 meets up with Grace Holloway again. Posted for @scaehime, who was interested in more.

-|-

The Doctor jolted awake. He tried to claw the oxygen mask off his face, but a pair of gloved hands held it more firmly in place. “Don’t worry, Mr. Smith,” someone said. “It’s simply a precaution. We—”

But the Doctor wasn’t willing to simply listen. “I’m not signing anything,” he said, albeit with difficulty, and his voice was muffled anyway. “I’m not going to let you do anything. No x-rays, no—”

“Mr. Smith, please remain calm.”

“Calm?” the Doctor repeated, anything but. “Calm? You’re trying to...you…you….” He trailed off. An oxygen mask, he’d thought. But then he’d breathed it, and analyzed it. And it wasn’t just oxygen. At least, not anymore. He had to wonder if he’d even said what he’d meant to say, whether or not it had been heard.

This time he did manage to get the mask off his face. “How long,” he gasped out, “have I been in here?”

“You were brought into emergency three hours ago,” came the steady reply. “You’re stable now. You were in shock. Do you remember what happened?”

“Partially,” the Doctor replied, looking distracted. “Did a Vera Taylor tell you who I was?”

“That’s right. Dr. Taylor has insisted that we treat you as we treated her.” A small laugh. “Like everyone else, in other words. We try to give the best treatment possible. You’re in good hands, Mr. Smith.”

The Doctor thought for a moment, cursing whatever they’d given him. He hated being slow on the uptake. “Did you say,” he finally asked, “that I’ve been here for three hours?” Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “And, oh, three hours is a long time, isn’t it? Lots of lovely tests you could run.” He sat up abruptly, wincing as his movement partially dislodged an IV from his arm. He pulled it out carefully and turned to assess the nurse who was taking care of him. He scrutinized her for a moment, seeing if he could place her face among his blurred recollections of the time he’d woken up on the operating table, but couldn’t. That was a bit of a relief.

“Mr. Smith, I have to ask you to—”

“Sorry,” he interrupted. He squinted at her nametag. “But, Rachel, I’m fine now. I don’t need oxygen, I don’t need an IV, and I don’t need whatever else you were going to give me.” He glanced down. “Though, I wouldn’t mind my clothes, bloodied or not.” He frowned. “That’ll take a bit of mending. Shame. I hate mending. I can take it to Neo-Sydney, I suppose. They’ve expert tailors there. Then again, the prices, and they don’t fancy taking….” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “Still. Better than making do with a costume again.”

“Mr. Smith—”

“Yes, I know, it’s against regulations and all that, but, without them, I can’t show you my ID to—” He stopped, frustrated. “Oh, what’s it matter. I can’t stay. I have more important things to be doing. I shouldn’t even have come in the first place.”

“Mr. Smith, your condition has stabilized for the moment, but I would advise not disregarding the doctor’s recommendations by—”

“Oh, but I wouldn’t be disregarding the Doctor’s recommendations,” the Doctor cut in. “Because I think I know my body a bit better than you, thanks.” He reached for the chart at the foot of the bed.

Rachel smirked at him. “So it’s true. Doctors are the worst patients.”

The Doctor, however, wasn’t paying attention. He flipped from one page to the next and back again, then skipped ahead and frowned. “You’ve scheduled me for an appointment with a cardiac specialist?” he asked slowly.

“Your heartbeat was erratic,” Rachel pointed out. “Even accounting for the shock, the range was worrisome.”

“Speeding up and slowing down,” the Doctor murmured, deciding he’d better not ramble too much in case she decided to have psychiatric check up on him. Twenty-eight beats a minute, then racing to well over a hundred and twenty-eight in an effort to compensate for the fact that his right heart still wasn’t beating. He was lucky he hadn’t slipped into a healing coma. He was liable to find himself locked up in the morgue again if he did.

At the very least, he was lucky they hadn’t cut him open with the intention of putting in a pacemaker or some such nonsense.

“Dr. Taylor was able to pull a few strings,” Rachel informed him, gently pulling the chart away from his hands. “Dr. Holloway will see to you herself.”

“Oh. Right.” The Doctor frowned. He’d managed to walk right into this, hadn’t he? Sure, he’d been debating having a quick conversation with her, and he had landed and set off, but if he was set to meet up with Grace again, this wasn’t what he’d pictured. Him tracking her down, yes, but if he went into the hospital, he wouldn’t have gone in as a patient. At least, not with injuries of this sort. Still, perhaps just bumping into her on the street would’ve been best. But not this. Well, could be worse, he supposed. He wasn’t on the operating table again.

Nearly had been, but wasn’t.

“Clothes?” he prompted, looking up at Rachel again.

“You’ll want someone to bring you a fresh set,” she admitted.

Oh, brilliant. They’d gone and cut them off him, then. He might just be reduced to making off with someone else’s. Again. What would it be now, the third time? There was his third regeneration, and his eighth, and—

“But my coat?” he asked. He didn’t want to lose his coat. He had important things in that coat. Come to that, he had important things in his suit pockets, too. “And, er, you haven’t disposed of my suit yet, have you?”

“Your things are safe, Mr. Smith.” Rachel stood up. “I’ll ask you to wait here while I call Dr. Miller in to speak with you personally.”

“If I going to talk to a doctor,” the Doctor replied, “I would prefer it to be Grace, if that’s possible. Is she free?”

“She didn’t—”

“Brilliant,” the Doctor interrupted. “Thank you. Off you go now, Rachel; time’s a-wasting.” He settled back into bed, waiting for her to leave. She looked startled, but she did as she was told.

The minute she was out the door, the Doctor allowed himself a small moan. Ooh, how humans could stand it with just one heart, he didn’t know. Though, he was lucky they hadn’t tried to give him anything. Probably had something to do with the good Dr. Taylor, that. She’d held up remarkably well, all things considered. She reminded him a bit of Grace. And even a little of Sarah Jane, come to think of it.

But he didn’t have time to think of it. He had to get out of here. They’d taken x-rays. And he wasn’t sure they’d just chalk it up to a double exposure again. He wasn’t even quite sure when he was—something he hated admitting; he had a reputation to uphold, after all—and he didn’t fancy going through anything like 2012 Utah again, to name one of the more recent unpleasant experiences he’d had on Earth. 

Now was not the time to draw attention to himself by trying to start up his right heart.

He slowly made his way down the hallway and a couple flights of stairs, alternately trying doors and dodging into rooms, occupied or otherwise, to avoid anyone who looked overtly official. He wasn’t sure how far he’d get, dressed as he was, but he was willing to give it a shot. And he could always pretend he was lost. It was fair enough, he figured, even if it was, likely as not, going to get him a ticket to psychiatric. Ah, well; he deserved a bit of fun. He hadn’t had as much as he liked lately. The last time he’d gone looking for it, things hadn’t exactly gone according to plan.

If hadn’t been for one wise, stubborn human, he would have knowingly destroyed an entire timeline.

Sure, it had reasserted himself, skirting around a few anomalies, but he’d been willing to…. He’d tried to sacrifice.... He’d….

“These are his things?”

“Yes. That’s all we found his pockets. No ID, no money—nothing to support his claims to Dr. Taylor.”

Grace. And someone he didn’t recognize. He’d better get out of here. Quickly. He could nip back and gather his things, then be on his way no worse for the wear. Grace might wonder, but he didn’t recall carrying anything on him now that she would recognize. He’d even had the locks changed; the TARDIS key was different. Though that was more because he couldn’t stand the constant reminder of Gallifrey than anything else. Still. New key, new sonic screwdriver….

New body.

Twice over.

And he had no right to ask. To ask would be to burden her with his problems, because she was the sort of person who would take the burden without being asked and wouldn’t lay it down, no matter what he told her. No matter how much he pleaded with her. And he had no right to do that. She’d built a wonderful life for herself. Moved on, just like she should have. Because she’d recognized—

The Doctor dashed into the nearest room. “Oh, hello,” he greeted cheerfully as a rather frail lady looked up at him. “I seem to have gotten the wrong room. I was looking for a Ms. Jones?” He phrased it as a question, but spent some time looking about the room, wandering deeper into it—and away from the doorway—and making it clear that he didn’t expect an answer. “Terribly sorry,” he added. “I’m the, ah, man from just down the hall. John Smith.” He stuck out his hand, grinning widely.

“Dorothy Mae,” the woman replied finally, taking his hand. “You shouldn’t be up and about, young man. I may not be a doctor, but I’m a mother and a grandmother, and you should be in bed. You’re too pale. Never mind that this is a hospital. I’m here after my hip replacement. You,” she added pointedly, looking him up and down again, “look like you got on the wrong side of a fight.” She didn’t sound particularly approving.

The Doctor tugged on an ear. “Yeah, well,” he said, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “Wasn’t intentional. Just trying to help, me. Nothing serious. They’ll be letting me out as soon as they can process the paperwork, I daresay. Need the beds, I think. But my friend—”

“If they’re going to release you when you look like that,” Dorothy Mae interrupted, “then I will be speaking with my doctor about the sort of care they’re giving here.”

The Doctor began to think that perhaps engaging the woman in conversation had not been his best idea. He pasted a smile on his face. “Oh, well, no, it’s not the care. I’m checking out. Against their recommendations, admittedly. But, really, it’s just a form or two to sign, and—”

“You,” declared the outspoken, if well-intentioned, Dorothy Mae, “ought to be ashamed of yourself. You’re liable to get yourself killed if you don’t smarten up.”

She looked like she could have berated him for longer, but the Doctor hastily began extracting himself from the conversation. “Yes, true enough; I will reconsider, I suppose, but I ought to go and tell them that, so I’ll just leave you be, won’t I?” He grinned at her and made his escape.

He bumped into someone and tried to continue on his way, but whoever it was caught his arm. “Mr. Smith,” drawled a man’s voice, “I believe you were assigned to room 403?”

“Dr. Miller, I presume?” the Doctor asked, trying not to look guilty. If he’d waited just one more minute.... “Yes. And may I ask why you are a full two floors from your assigned room?” Over Dr. Miller’s shoulder, the Doctor had watched Grace’s face fall. Perhaps she had thought to connect the dots. He didn’t recall telling her that regeneration worked more than once. Granted, he hadn’t exactly had time to explain anything. Common theme in his life, that.

“Oh, well,” he said slowly. “Fancied a bit of a jaunt, that’s all. Looking to see if I could get a cup of tea, to be honest.” Well, partially honest. He wouldn’t mind a cup of tea now. He needed something to clear his head. “And, I was wondering about my things. Could I have them back? Even the suit? I know an excellent tailor.”

“We can discuss this at a later time, once we have you back in your room.” Dr. Miller steered him towards the lift.

“I’ll join you when he’s settled,” Grace said shakily. The Doctor glanced over his shoulder to get a better look at her. She hadn’t changed, really. So perhaps it wasn’t that long after all. Blimey, it better not be before the millennium. He’d be in a spot then. But surely….

The Doctor accepted his scolding meekly, knowing that if he had any chance of getting out of here, it would be better to throw them off guard. And, sometimes, if you played your cards right, and you acted like you really needed something, they’d give it to you. Like shoes. Shoes would be an excellent thing right now. You can only make it so far without shoes. All right, last time he’d made it over to Grace’s house without shoes, but he’d needed the toe tag on as proof, hadn’t he?

The Doctor did his best to ensure that his conversation with Dr. Miller was short. Grace entered shortly after Dr. Miller had finished his scolding—well, chiding, more like, as if he were a child. But when she came in, holding his coat—and it would take a bit to get those stains out—and a small paper bag, presumably his other things, he almost didn’t want Dr. Miller to leave. He regretted being so apologetic and compliant. He might’ve bought more time if he hadn’t been.

Because, really…. He didn’t want to face her.

He shouldn’t have come.

“John Smith?” she asked softly, depositing his things at the foot of the bed and settling down on the chair by its head. He saw the sleeve of his suit jacket poking out from the bundle that was his coat. Excellent; she’d gotten that, too.

Still, he had to answer her question. He hesitated, and nodded once, sharply and definitively.

“Where are you from?” she asked, keeping her voice light.

“Nottingham,” he answered. “Brilliant place. You ought to visit it sometime.”

“And may I ask why you wanted to speak with me, and why you told Dr. Vera Taylor that I knew you?”

“Oh, well, I just….” The Doctor trailed off. Grace was smart, and lying wasn’t his forte in this regeneration. “It’s been a long while, that’s all. I knew you wouldn’t recognize me.”

She was thinking it. He could tell by the expression on her face. Blinking abruptly, she reached for his chart, scanning it. He watched her shoulders fall. “They want to keep you for monitoring,” she noted. “You’ve a bad heart.”

“It’s just overworked,” the Doctor said bluntly. “Temporary. A victim of circumstances, if you will.”

“X-rays inconclusive?” Grace repeated, looking up from the chart. “You’re due for another round, to make sure you didn’t crack a rib. First round was faulty.”

The Doctor was silent for a moment. “Grace,” he said, slowly, deliberately, “may I have my things?” He held out his hand. “Just the bag for now, if you will.”

“I’d prefer Dr. Holloway at the moment, Mr. Smith.”

“Doctor,” the Doctor corrected.

Grace smiled slightly. “Oh, yes,” she amended. “I do recall Vera mentioning that. Dr. Smith, then.”

“Doctor,” the Doctor repeated, watching her hand falter as she reached for the bag.

She turned back to look at him. “I’m afraid, Dr. Smith, that I do not take to calling anyone simply by their profession. Particularly those from Nottingham.” She passed the paper bag to him.

The Doctor took it and smiled. “Well, it’s a bit more than a profession.” He overturned the bag to see what he could find. They hadn’t found much. Sonic screwdriver, TARDIS key, wallet of currently blank psychic paper—pity, that; might be a bit harder to fool them, if they recognized the covering—and his spectacles. Just some surface things, nothing from too deep in his pockets.

And nothing Grace would recognize.

Though, he had to decide, now, whether or not he was going to go through with it. He’d meant to. But then, he thought maybe it would be best if he didn’t. Because the only reasons he’d meant to have any conversation at all with her were selfish reasons. He wanted to know what she’d seen, and how she’d recognized it—how she’d seen what he, and so many others, couldn’t.

A friend had once told him that if you could choose who lives and who dies, you would be a monster. And he’d agreed whole-heartedly at the time. It wasn’t even that long ago. How could he have forgotten that conversation? How could he have turned his back on that so utterly? How could he have disregarded everything and gone and done it anyhow?

He’d needed to be taken down a few pegs.

It hadn’t taken much.

But it was too much all the same.

One life had had to be ended to keep history on track.

And he hadn’t been the one to realize that.

He’d been the one to ignore it.

And then he’d been shown how important it all was, and how foolish and arrogant he’d been, and how wrong he’d been, to stray from that, even once. He’d seen what he’d become.

A monster.

“Dr. Smith? Are you all right?”

The Doctor blinked. Grace repeated her question, moving closer to check on him.

No. He couldn’t just leave. He’d come here, and the TARDIS had made sure he’d come this far, sneaky as she was. He wanted to run from this, like he’d run from everything else. But he couldn’t keep everything inside him forever, keeping silent. He had to tell some things to someone.

Someone who would listen.

Someone who might help him to understand.

Someone he’d touched but not destroyed.

“I’m always all right,” the Doctor croaked, pulling away from Grace. He reached instead for his coat, digging in the pockets. He had some in here, he was sure of it. He’d gotten them the same time he’d picked up that chocolate egg at Easter, since he hadn’t had any for years and he had had a bit of a liking for them. They wouldn’t be too old; a couple of months, that’s all.

“Dr. Smith, you should just relax. Your heart—”

Right. Dr. Miller had insisted on hooking him up to that again. Bother it all. “Is compensating,” the Doctor cut in. “That’s all. Temporary, like I said.”

“You’re not well.”

No, he wasn’t. But he was on the mend, now—if he could just stop running, just for a moment, long enough to have a conversation.

“Grace—”

“Dr. Holloway.”

“Grace,” the Doctor repeated, very deliberately, as his hand closed upon a small paper bag of candy. He pulled it out of his coat pocket and offered it to her. “Jelly baby?”

She looked at him uncertainly. “I was informed that they’d gone through your pockets.”

The Doctor shrugged. “They didn’t know what they were looking for. Would you like a jelly baby?”

Grace’s expression hardened. “Stop it,” she hissed.

The Doctor was taken aback. “What?” he asked, blinking at her. He hadn’t meant to actually offend her. Yet that was how she was acting.

“Who put you up to this?” she continued angrily. “I’m not having it, you hear? I’ve had enough with people laughing at me. I’m not telling that story anymore.”

Oh.

He hadn’t expected that.

Of course, he wasn’t entirely sure what he had expected.

He hadn’t thought about it all too much.

“What year is it?” he asked slowly.

Wrong question, it seemed, with what she thought of him now. “I’ll thank you not to persist in telling tales in an attempt to speak to me again,” she said sharply, rising to her feet. “Good day, Mr. Smith.”

“Doctor,” he corrected again.

She glared at him. “Dr. Smith, then. Good day.”

“I’d missed you, Grace,” he said truthfully. “But I’d still thought that I was doing the right thing by not coming back. After you’d made your choice, I mean.”

It wasn’t enough to catch her attention, and she started out the room, ignoring him.

And, well, now that he’d made the decision to talk to her, he wanted to talk to her.

So he made sure that he did catch her attention. “The Master survived, you know. Getting sucked into the Eye. But she’s closed now. Room’s locked, good and tight. Even I can’t get into it. Don’t think I will, unless circumstances change.”

She turned back at the doorway to look at him. “How long?” she asked, her voice still cold.

“Pardon?”

“How long have you spent listening to my stories, gathering every bit of information from every story I’ve ever told the children in the recovery ward? And why do you insist on patronizing me?”

She was defensive. Hurt.

Because of him.

Because she’d believed in him and had told her story.

He’d still managed to….

“I’m sorry,” he said, genuinely contrite. “I am so, so sorry, Grace. I didn’t know.”

“Dr. Holloway,” she corrected, but her voice had softened slightly.

And then she was gone.

(Part 3)

[leportraitducadavre]

What do you think about Rock Lee? I rewatched his fight with Gaara recently and feel very nostalgic. He was my favorite, but I only know realize that probably a lot of it came from this whole sympathy for the underdog. I wonder what you think of his character and how his story went 😊

Hi Anon.

I apologize for how long this took to reply, hopefully, my answer will satisfy you enough to oversee the time it took.

I'll be honest, I'll analyze Lee solely from the first part of the manga because it's when his character is mostly developed (I might add the second part later on, but for now, I'll focus just on the gënin timeline).

In order to organize the reply and my feed, everything will be put under the cut. Apologies for doing it but I don't want to have to deal with another claim on any of my posts.

Once this has been clarified, let's start analyzing Rock Lee

Introduction and First Impression

Lee is introduced in chapter 36 (Sakura's depression) -the beginning of the Chünin Exams. His first "interaction" with Team 7 happens when he stops Sasuke from fighting a proctor, and Sasuke notices that Lee's chakra is weird.

After that, he introduces himself to Sakura and asks her out, getting immediately rejected. By that point, we saw that the main point of the chapter is, like the title says, Sakura's depression, a condition that gets immediately fixed after Sasuke praises her.

From what we can see, Lee knows about Team 7 and each of its members; we aren't told why or how he knows, but we can infer that he looked for information of Kakashi's team when hearing of the prodigious Uchiha, as he mostly focuses on him.

After this moment, Lee seeks a fight against Sasuke likely because both of a sense of jealousy (he got rejected by Sakura not a few pages ago, and Neji was curious about Sasuke's identity); and as a way to prove to himself that he can beat those that are considered prodigies.

The reason why he wanted to fight Sasuke makes little sense, which is why I find it weird that people find Lee's actions as noble (most of it has to do with the fandom's hatred towards Sasuke), sure, they're young and their emotions can get the best of them, but considering his military training, Lee should have known better than to lash out to a boy he just met.

"I want to test the effectiveness of my techniques against the last surviving member of your legendary clan" (x)

The phrase is followed by Lee winking at Sakura, so his reasons to fight Sasuke go beyond testing his techniques. Lee, according to this interaction, knew about Sasuke's identity all along and investigated him in order to gain more information when challenging him.

Another thing we learn from his fight with Sasuke: Lee is willing to break the rules of his master and use a dangerous technique against someone younger than him and with whom he had never interacted previously if it means winning.

In addition to Lee explaining why Sasuke can't keep up with him despite having the Sharingan (x), we have the panels above: Why is Lee being so adamantly cruel to Sasuke? And no, I'm not talking about his words, he's explaining his technique -I'm talking about the move he is about to perform against him -someone who it has been proven already can't keep up with him. Lee is projecting all the frustration and hatred he has for Neji onto Sasuke, who shares the same "prodigy" status as his teammate.

[And sure, the reader doesn't know about Neji and Lee's dynamic yet -we are presented with that conflict at the end of the exams, yet the observation stands, I'm only providing the information in order to understand why Lee was so adamantly out of line].

He not only is being unfair but also abusive -had Gai not intervened, he would have injured Sasuke for no real reason other than because he wanted to prove a point to himself.

Like I said before: Sasuke couldn't keep up with Lee's speed, it had been proven that Lee was to win the fight even without using the technique he was about to try. His rival was pretty much defeated, yet Lee continued to elevate the level of difficulty of his attacks to make further and further damage:

1) Sasuke is trembling. Wouldn't that be enough reason to stop?

2) The victory had already been established previously to Lee's performing his ultimate technique. In addition, as I established before, because of its level of damage the move is strictly forbidden, however, Lee tries to use it regardless.

It's true that later on, he tells Sasuke "I was blowing smoke before" regarding the use of the Forbidden Technique. But since Gai interrupted Lee and punished him, it's not that far-fetched to think he isn't telling him the truth as of now. He even thought about it before starting the fight, so he was willing to use the "move" (we learn It was the Lotus technique a few chapters later) but was prevented from doing so.

Chunin Exams and his willingness to sacrifice himself in lieu of others

We see him again during the second stage of the exams jumping through tree branches and training (trying to catch leaves before they touch the ground to see if Sakura would love him), and after that, in Chapter 51 -when he saves Sakura from an attack from Dosu.

There, we learn that he's good enough to notice Dosu's pattern and fighting style (also being able to know when a genjutsu is in place), we also get to know how he got to learn the technique only he was able to study: according to Gai's words, neither Neji nor Tenten were able to master The Lotus (meaning, Gai seemed to have tried to teach it to all of them, only succeding with Lee).

The Lotus Technique consists of:

One use of the technique brings Lee to the brink of exhaustion, as we see here; Dosu hasn't been defeated despite his best efforts because Kazu used his sound techniques to soften the earth. Lee's speed, while inhumane, can't keep up with sound's speed. Kishimoto is quite great when writing fights, isn't he?

Lee is actually and quite literally in love with Sakura, as Tenten states, had Lee been alone when fighting the Oto-nin, he would have won. He's willing to sacrifice his life in order to save her from the Sound-nin, as she literally means "the world" to him.

The impression of Lee's sacrifice (and Naruto and Sasuke's, who are still unconscious at this point) is so significant for Sakura that she considers all of them her "teachers", and people whom she will and needs to protect. Lee's significance in Sakura's development has increased (and will continue to do so).

Later on, during the preliminaries for the Third Stage of the Chünin Exams, Sasuke shows that he was able to memorize Lee's fighting technique due to his Sharingan and also master his moves -despite not being able to keep up with him only three days prior.

In that sense, Sasuke thinks that he was able to live thanks to Lee and his moves. We are also able to see Lee's appreciation of the matter, and his new perception of Sasuke -it seems that his hostility towards the younger boy has dissipated.

When Tenten gets beaten and tossed aside by Temari, Lee jumps in order to both catch his teammate (showing the bond he shares with her) and to kick Temari for insulting her. It's something I introduced before when he fought Sasuke, but Lee is particularly emotionally driven -he's constantly reacting and giving in to his impulses. It's not until Gai tells him to stop that he does. Furthermore, Gaara calls Temari and says, "how long do you intend to trifle with that homely little prince charming?" and the way Lee looks is absolutely enraged, even if he can't retaliate physically.

Gai

Gai's character is so central to Lee that I've decided to make a separate sub-title solely for him.

1) Lee can't use Ninjutsu or Genjutsu. I know that we as fans know this already, but it doesn't hurt to have it written, since is the core of Lee's character. Furthermore, as Gai points out, Lee wasn't able to do anything; he literally had no ability or talent whatsoever -not even at Taijutsu, which Gai taught him.

2) While it's commendable of Gai to teach Lee and put him on harsh training to allow him to grow in a specific field -we're introduced from the get-go that Gai's methods are questionable. He's pushing Lee to an extreme training and, as we saw during his fight with Sasuke and the time he defended Sakura, Lee often refers (or apologizes) to Gai's figure; meaning, everything he does is to make his sensei proud.

3) In addition to the previous point, he taught Lee The Lotus move (which is a technique that opens the First Inner Gate, Kaimon, or Gate of Opening), a dangerous power that, as he explains, strains the body to such extent that it leaves Lee defenseless against another attack should he fail -as it happens with Gaara.

To counteract that problem, Gai taught him to open more than one Gate (remember, every single one is a forbidden technique) to his student (at this point in time, Lee can open five out of eight Inner Gates), Lee's achievement is so incredible, that even Kakashi calls him a genius.

[The explanation of the different Inner Gates inside the body. The Reverse Lotus (the second technique Lee uses, after not being able to defeat Gaara with the Forward Lotus, which opens the first gate), opens two more gates: Kyumon, which boosts his strength, and Seimon (Gate of Life).]

As we know, Lee loses his fight against Gaara because while his attacks proved to be effective against his ultimate defense, Gaara still possessed the Gourd -which he turned to sand to protect himself.

Lee's use of the Lotus technique, in addition to Gaara's attack (Sabakukyu), put such a toll on his body that he ended up "destroyed" enough to be told that he'll never become a full shinobi.

This is a direct consequence of Gai's teachings that never gets truly explored, as his actions are immediately dropped after Lee recovers.

4) I've mentioned before that Gai's character has such importance on Lee's development that he takes immeasurable risks in order to make him proud (being willing to sacrifice his body and keep fighting), but I haven't explained why:

Gai, unlike any other character before, is the first person who trusts Lee's capacity, who thinks (and tells him) about how great/strong he can become, and that he's a genius in his own way. Without Gai's encouragement (and specific training that I've already talked about) he would have never achieved the title of "Taijutsu specialist" that Gai gives him and everyone else acknowledges.

Regarding Gai's perception of Lee, besides the great lengths he went to ensure Lee's success, we also need to point out that Gai is the only reason why Gaara wasn't able to kill Lee. He was the only one who jumped in to protect him (which is the main reason why Gaara wants to kill him after, as he witnessed an act of love that he can't comprehend). The proctor Hayate, meanwhile, did nothing, as well as the rest of the jönins that jumped before to protect Hinata from Neji. In addition, Gai calls him (and only him), his "lovable, precious protégé!" (x) Furthermore, it's directly stated by Lee himself how important Gai's presence is to him (x, x), Gai not only gave him support, but he also gave him a goal to rely on (have a rival and work hard).

"If, by a one in a trillion chance, it ends in failure... I'll die with you!"

Source

Neji

Besides Gai, speaking of Lee without speaking of Neji is also another disservice to his character, since the entire reason why Lee pushes himself to train harder is that he wants to beat Neji.

Sure, the relevance of Neji isn't really as strong as Gai's, but that doesn't mean his presence isn't important when it comes to Lee's development.

We get to see how Lee recognizes Neji's strength, how he craves some sort of recognition from him (although that objective isn't as strong as Naruto's desire for Sasuke to acknowledge him), and how he puts him as a milestone to surpass and, as consequence, reach his goal.

We are even told that Lee's commitment to learning how to open the Inner Gates was a consequence of his desire to win a match against Neji.

Lee's Perseverance

I already introduced this notion, since the whole point of Gai's character is to introduce the idea of "hard work" surpassing natural geniuses, and we find this idea again on CH 93 where Sakura and Ino find him training outside the hospital after his defeat at the hands of Gaara.

He's so driven by his goal, that he overexerts himself and ends up fainting.

Once Tsunade returns to the village, she tells Lee that he won't be able to return to his Shinobi duties, as the operation she needs to perform in order to fix his spine has a 50% success rate, which incredibly depresses him to the point where his ninja way (hard work), isn't enough to take him off of that state.

It's incredibly sad because Lee's entire dogma has been shattered and he has, again, no control over his body or destiny; as everything relies upon Tsunade. For that reason, he seeks Gai's advice, who finally tells him to get the surgery despite the possible consequences, as losing his dream will hurt far more than dying. Furthermore, Gai promises he'll die alongside Lee should the operation fail, as his ninja way was to make him a "Splendid ninja" (x).

The great lengths Lee's willing to go to (not without the support of a very questionable mentor) in order to achieve his dream, putting in line his own life is very telling of the system's (and those that live by such system) priorities, as it teaches young children that their bodies and life alike are expendable and a sacrifice to be made in order to climb within the military ranks and become "useful" to the village.

[Lee's quality of life has been extremely lowered in lieu of his wounds, that's true, however, those wounds exist because he pushed himself too hard in order to please his commander; someone hypocritical enough to question Kakashi's decision to enroll his team in the Chünin Exams as he deemed them too young and inexperienced to participate, yet saw no issue in teaching forbidden and dangerous techniques to his own student.]

Lee's fight with Kimimaro brings, to me, nothing entirely new about his character other than introducing us to his poor tolerance of alcohol. We get to see how Tsunade succeeded with the surgery and how Lee, despite having spent months depressed and having just been saved by Tsunade's skills (without whom he would've lost his entire shinobi career), is able to "forgive" Gaara, as he's a powerful ally.

[ashen-crest]

Hi RK! I think about you a lot as far as seeing the writer I want to be out in the wild. You self-published, right? Do you have a Guide for those of us wanting to follow your path, or advice on Where to Look for going in the self pub direction?

Hello and thank you so much!! I apologize if this gets rambly- there's a lot to cover, and I hope you stick with me through it.

I am indeed self-published! Everyone's situation and goals are different, but for me, I work full-time, write on the side, and want to push out professional-looking books because...well, because I want to. I currently don't plan to move to writing full-time, and I do have a job that helps cover the costs of an editor, cover designer, etc.

That's all important to establish up front, because that majorly impacts basically everything else about my strategy.

Because I work full-time, I can't write as fast as other folks. I also don't have as much time to spend on marketing. But because I work full-time, I can set aside money for a line editor, a cover designer, a proofreader, and an illustrator if needed, as well as cover a website, pre-order goodies, author copies for giveaways, a BookFunnel subscription, etc.

So, with all that...

Step 1:

Assess your goals, your abilities, your limits, and plan your strategy around that.

I realize that sounds really vague, but there are so many aspects to self-publishing, and so many things that can either cost $0 or $1,000, that it's worth jotting down the following first:

What you are comfortable & proficient with doing yourself (cover design? proofreading? making your own pre-order swag?)

What you have time for (things like social media, newsletters, and designing your own cover all take time)

What you have the money for (if you're going to spend money on anything, the conventional wisdom is cover design + editor)

What you have the energy for (book release speed, marketing, etc)

What your end goal is (publishing for fun? for a career? for something in between?)

Once you have all that jotted down, I'd plan out the following (and this is really starting from square one):

Your Books' Content

What genre do I want to write in? And do I want to put effort into targeting a sub-genre or sub-sub-genre (a successful strategy for career-focused indie authors), or would I prefer to keep myself flexible for creative purposes?

How much research do I want to put into this genre? A lot of intense indie authors will read a ton, research genre expectations, analyze tropes and covers, etc. But if you're just having fun, that's totally cool!

How quickly do I want to write? And the corollaries: do I want to write a bunch at once, then rapid-release? Or write and release one at a time?

What do I want my editing process to look like? I'd consider things like beta readers, sensitivity readers, and professional editors and/or proofreaders. (For later: don't forget about front and back matter, like copyright pages, acknowledgments, "leave a review and sign up for my newsletter!" pages, etc.)

Your Author Presence & Marketing

How do I want to appear as an author? Do you want to go all-out with a website, newsletter with reader magnets, Patreon and/or social media presence? Or pick and choose a few/none of those things? These are major time-sucks, and the conventional wisdom is that you don't want to try everything at once (particularly social media sites). Master one thing first, then move on to the next. (This is a, uh, do as I say and not as I do kinda situation...)

How do I want to handle cover design? Maybe the most important part of marketing besides your blurb. Please please don't skimp on it.

How do I price my books? Check other books in your genre and see what their average cost is.

What do I want my release strategy to look like? Pre-order goodies? ARCs? Giveaways?

Do I want to participate in any promos or paid advertising? The answer is typically 'no' at the beginning, but I've found BookFunnel to be helpful when it comes to distributing reader magnets and joining group promos.

The Technical & Business-y Aspects

(Not things you have to worry about right now, but things to eventually research and keep in mind.)

What format will my books be in? E-books are cheaper to produce than paperback and net you higher profits. But if you really wanna hold your book in your hand (like me) and write in a genre where readers buy paperbacks, then it could be worth planning for that as well.

How do I want to distribute my books? There are a ton of ways to distribute your book. Amazon, IngramSpark, Draft2Digital, Gumroad, Itchio, selling directly on a personal website, etc. If you also want your books in libraries and brick-and-mortar stores, that will impact your distribution strategy.

How will I typeset/format my book? You can do it through Word or Scrivener or even Reedsy's site, but there are also paid programs that make it easier and freelancers who can do it for you.

What sort of licenses do I need to sell books? The really not-fun part. Check your federal, state, county, and city for any required selling permits, business licenses, and tax rules. I'd also look into if you want to set up a DBA ("doing business as") or an EIN (basically a business tax ID number so you don't have to use your personal SSN).

What sort of ID numbers do my books need? For example, in the US, you need ISBN codes sold by Bowker. Not required for ebook, but required for paperback, with a separate code needed for hardcover, translations, or subsequent editions.

How do I copyright my books? For the US, it's the US Copyright Office.

(US Only) Do I want an LCCN (Library of Congress control #) for my book? This helps you get into libraries. If you want a #, you need to fill out a form before your book publishes.

Resources!

I realize this is a LOT to research. Please don't feel like you need to do all the research at once or know everything right away. Put most of your focus into writing and set aside some time to tackle the other topics as you go.

Here are some resources I found to be helpful:

FB Group: Wide for the Win (all about distributing across multiple platforms)

FB Group: 20Booksto50K (very business-focused, almost to a fault, and has some failings, but also has some great advice and detailed insights. I'd recommend using this page only if you're very serious about self-pub)

FB Group: Author Unleashed (great for getting blurb feedback!)

David Gaughran's "Starting from Zero" free online video course, all about marketing when you're totally new to the game

Tammi Lebrecque's Newsletter Ninja books and resources, if you want to delve into newsletters and reader magnets

The Complete Guide to Self-Editing for Fiction Writers by Bucket Siler

The Indie Author's Bible by Christopher D Schmitz

Becca Syme's series for indie authors

A word of warning...

There are a lot of people out there making money off writing resources, aka selling mining equipment to the miners rather than mining themselves. There are thousands of self-publishing gurus with books, consultation packages, sales funnel advice, etc. Before you throw a lot of money at those resources, do some research and take a look at what other indie authors recommend first. (If it helps, I really do trust David Gaughran, Tammi Lebrecque, and Becca Syme for starters.)

Okay that's it!

That was a lot. I'm so sorry. I'm happy to answer any specific questions or concerns you have!

[snappydragon14]

Part Two

Next page~

Previous page~

The rumbling grew louder, reverberating through the stone walls like the heartbeat of a slumbering beast. Dust fell from cracks in the ceiling, drifting down like ancient memories stirred awake. Soar narrowed her eyes, focusing on the source of the sound. It was hard to tell if it was mechanical, something living, or worse—something that was once living but wasn’t anymore.

Mictlan, always eager to unleash his aggression, tightened his grip on his sword. He hated this tension, the waiting, the unknown. Part of him relished the thought of something attacking—at least then, he could vent his fury. He wanted to be the first to tear into whatever emerged from the darkness.

Ike, visibly trembling, looked like he was regretting every decision that led him here. Still, he managed to steel himself, eyes darting around the chamber for potential escape routes, should things go south. The shadows lengthened as the light from Soar’s feathers brightened, creating a stark contrast that seemed to animate the carved figures on the walls, as if they were writhing in agony or warning.

Suddenly, a deafening crash echoed from deeper within the tower, followed by the clattering of stones. The source of the rumbling was close, and it was fast. A gust of stale, cold air rushed past them, rattling loose debris and sending a shiver through all three.

The tension snapped when a hulking figure emerged from the shadows. It was a construct—part stone, part metal, and brimming with magic. Its body was shaped like a monstrous spirit, runes glowing faintly along its limbs. It moved with a purpose, its heavy steps resonating with the tower’s ancient architecture, as if it belonged here, as if it was meant to guard something.

“So, that’s what was making the noise,” Soar muttered, taking a step back to gauge the threat. Her wings flared wider, illuminating the creature in greater detail. It was covered in stone, bones creeping over its form, but its core thrummed with a familiar power.

Mictlan’s eyes gleamed with a vicious grin. “Finally, something to tear apart.” He lunged forward without hesitation, sword raised high, ready to cleave through stone and metal alike.

But the beast was faster than it looked. With a speed that defied its bulk, it swung a massive arm, forcing Mictlan to dodge at the last second. The floor shook with the impact, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the wooden boards. Soar was about to leap into action before the beast flipped a lever, a large angelic cage falling onto her as Ike quickly squirmed away from the melee, ready to retreat as needed. Her eyes locked onto the runes—perhaps they were the key to dismantling this guardian, she looking around the cage she was trapped in...knowing fully well that a single touch could burn into her body with little to no effort.

Ike, meanwhile, skittered toward the edges of the chamber, desperately trying to stay out of the fray. He kept his eyes on Soar, hoping she had a plan that didn’t involve getting pulverized.

Mictlan let out a shout, his blade slashing across the creatures torso. Sparks flew, but the creature barely flinched. It retaliated with a crushing backhand that Mictlan barely blocked, the sheer force driving him back several steps. “You’ll have to hit harder than that!” he snarled, his frustration only fueling his strength.

Soar, still analyzing the situation, noticed how the creatures movements became sluggish whenever it neared the carved murals on the walls. An idea began to form. “Mictlan! Drive it toward the wall!”

"Do you really expect that to work?!-"

"Just trust me!"

The God shot her a glare but didn’t argue. He switched tactics, feinting and sidestepping to bait the creature closer to the mural. The creature lumbered forward, unaware of the trap being set.

As it neared the wall, the runes on its body flickered, and its movements became noticeably slower. Mictlan seized the opportunity, pouncing down and slashing at the glowing symbols with precision. His sword, sharp and crackling with dark energy, tore through the weakened stone, disrupting the runic patterns.

The golem let out a guttural sound—whether it was pain or rage was impossible to tell. But it staggered, swaying as if its core was destabilizing. Mictlan grinned wickedly, sensing victory. With a savage cry, he brought his sword down in a powerful arc, cleaving through the creature’s torso and splitting it nearly in two. The creature shuddered, then collapsed in a heap of rubble and twisted metal.

Silence returned to the chamber, broken only by the settling dust and the labored breaths of the three travelers. Ike peeked out from his hiding spot, eyes wide with both relief and lingering fear. “Is…is it over?” he squeaked.

Soar sighed, folding her wings as the glow from her feathers dimmed. “For now,” she replied, though her tone suggested they’d likely face worse ahead.

Mictlan sheathed his sword with a huff. “If this is the kind of obstacle we’ll face in this tower, I’d better not be wasting my time.”

Soar gave him a measured look. “You’re not. If there’s one, there could be others—and where there are creatures like this, there are things worth protecting. Knowledge, secrets…all within this place.”

The God's eyes gleamed with dark ambition, but he kept his thoughts to himself. For now, the uneasy alliance held, but it was clear to all of them that trust was as thin as the shadows in which they walked. Mictlan approached the cage that had ensnared Soar, his expression full of impatience. He was already irritated by how much effort it had taken to bring down the construct, and freeing Soar from a trap wasn’t exactly on his list of priorities.

Soar met his gaze, her eyes sharp and unwavering. “The cage—it’s designed to hold devine beings that hold holy properties and magic's, capable of burning the strongest of angels with a single touch. If you try brute force, it’ll backfire and amplify the barrier.”

Mictlan growled low in his throat, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. “Then what do you suggest? I’m not in the mood for riddles.”

“Simple,” Soar replied, her voice calm despite the situation. “There’s a pattern to the runes. If you disrupt it in the right sequence, the cage will dissolve.”

“Why didn’t you say that sooner?” he snapped.

“Because you’re more interested in your selfish gain” she shot back, unflinching.

Mictlan sneered but let the comment slide. He stepped closer, carefully studying the glowing symbols carved into the stone bars of the cage. They pulsed with a faint, eerie light that shifted as if reacting to his presence. “Just tell me where to strike.”

Soar’s eyes flicked from rune to rune, her mind quickly piecing together the correct order. “Start with the one at the base, near the left side. It’s holding the others in place.”

Mictlan followed her instructions, aiming his sword at the rune. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then drove the blade into the exact center of the symbol. The rune shattered like fragile glass, and the glow around the cage flickered.

“Now the one on the top right,” Soar instructed, her voice a bit tenser. “Quickly, before it re-stabilizes.”

Mictlan didn’t need to be told twice. He brought his sword up and slashed at the second rune, causing more of the glowing barriers to dissolve. The energy holding the cage together was unraveling, but there was still one final piece to dismantle.

“The center. Strike it straight through,” Soar said, her eyes narrowing with focus.

Mictlan braced himself and swung his sword in a powerful, downward arc. The tip of his blade pierced the center rune, and with a crackling surge of energy, the entire cage shattered into nothingness, the remaining fragments dissipating like dust caught in a breeze.

Soar stepped free, shaking off the lingering traces of the spell’s hold. “Thank you,” she said, her tone businesslike, though her eyes softened slightly. She knew Mictlan had little patience for delicacy, but he’d held back just enough to free her without worsening the situation.

Mictlan sheathed his sword, raising a brow at her words. No one, has ever thanked him for anything....not in a melinia of his lifetime as a warlord....he never expected her to ever thank him. He expected a fear filled nod or even a snarky comment, but a singular 'Thank you'? From the very angel he was supposed to despise and discard....