#people who are better at something are more likely to want to help you get better at the thing too

[holy-mother-of-whumpers]

I'd like to explain why I disagree.

Disclaimer.

I have not been around TikTok stuff so I have no idea what is this against. Maybe I'd agree with them against it, but just don't know. All it follows is NOT against the book tok culture but just a polite disagreement of this post or what it made me think about.

This is not about booktok

"If someone told me... There is an enemy to lovers... Why are you spoiling the story?" -> spoiling is bad and marking the tropes is spoiling.

Spoiling is bad.

Spoiler works on some kind of content, like Marvel, which is a lot of surprise value and 'disposable' stories. If the narrative is good a spoiler (provided it isn't about the plot twist) doesn't decrease the enjoyment but enhances it (there is a whole thing, may even be called spoiler effect? Spoiler paradox?).

If spoiling or knowing the content would ruin things, there wouldn't be classics. Nobody would read LOTR, dracula, the Iliad/Odyssey, Count of Monte Cristo. Yes there are always going to be people who come at it free of previous knowledge, which is great for them, but usually people are aware of the story bits (like that the suspicious count in Dracula is in fact a vampire - I knew that and yet the book was an absolute blast, very suggested! It even got me trying epistolary novel as a format) and read it anyway. More, they read it because they kinda know what they are getting into.

So no, not all spoiling is intrinsically bad, in fact nobody would read a story they know nothing about. I'd say the trick is to 'spoil' the setting and the character dynamics... Just NOT something the author was playing as a reveal. Of course at this point we shouldn't even use 'spoil'.

What can we call the setting and character dynamics?

Marking the tropes is spoiling.

We can call them tropes and genres, they are broad characterizations that help people have an idea of what they are getting into. We all prefer a few genres.

What if we were allowed to prefer a few tropes as well, or just be free to avoid those we don't like?

The entire discussion that happened about fantasy romance (before it had a name) was that people got into what they thought it was fantasy but ended up with just romance, with basic characterization, minimal world building, no intrigue or epic battle between good and evil. It was very unsatisfying; so more classification of the book is better than less (with common sense, nor I nor anybody else wants a list of every single thing that's in there).

'Classification' as in to guide to to find the book you like or to let you know if you want to try something different than usual or again, you found a trope you never knew (like me with the reincarnation trope in webtoons) and you want to proceed and eat that in copious amounts until you have wrung every last bit of serotonine/dopamine from it.

If you don't want to know, you should be allowed to know where the trope markers are, so to avoid and go in blind (like I do with movies I know I'm interested in: I just don't watch the trailer. A legit choice I'm allowed to make and happy because of it).

Conclusion: if you think marking a trope is spoiling, they probably did it wrong, because it shouldn't. It should be supposed to give you an idea, so you aren't buying a book for the pretty cover.

Note! From fanfiction to published books it would be a good idea to use warnings, to some extent - I'd love to skip historical novels with gratuitous sa because it's 'realistic'... At this point it's its own trope which I'd like marked so I can avoid it. I have had enough of it ok. No hate but I want to keep away.

I'd like also a protagonist marker, examples, Reluctant Protagonist (no hate, just dislike) or pov protagonist (especially in fantasy romance so I know they aren't going to do anything and we are admiring together the brooding tragic-backstoried main lead).

Saying: 'I am annoyed by this thing' is legit and I support presenting narratives in a way that allows people to choose how much to know about it. Like a general summary behind, a tropes list inside the cover (or something) for those looking for the tropes. Saying 'you can't use fanfiction terms' is incorrect, tropes aren't fanfiction terms, and wrong in the 'you', because 'you' (publishing industry?) should cater to people taking into account that different people want different things and consume the book in different ways, nobody should be forced to consume a book any other way that the one makes them happy :)

Second post.

Again, I don't know about booktok so I'll keep to "encourages authors to built their entire story around marketable tropes [...] turn more of a profit".

The placing (<- marketing term) of a book on the market is hella hard ok. Like, so much. Very often what makes a book great is subtle, hard to explain, and people have a short attention span anyway. Building a story around a trope may be a bad idea, but many writers start the story around a image or a scene floating in their mind, all stories are Bron from an idea. Tweaking the core idea to a marketable trope make the author sell. "Turn more of a profit" yes?? Yes please??? Begging here??? If I have spent like the last five years working on this story I want people to a) find it interesting (thus I am brought to play on the main tropes in there) and b) make money out of it. I worked on that story for the last five years. Am I so evil to think I want a revenue so I can focus on my next book instead of doing so in scraps of times in this capitalistic hellscape? Yes I want the money so I can do what I want with my life and time (writing in this case) and give people meaningful stories.

If the trope-marketed story isn't meaningful I'm afraid the problem is the writer didn't care for it - which leads to another entire can of worms, kinda related (writing for the money and not for the story is an unfortunate rotten compromise for people who need money and can write but aren't paid enough to afford the time for a proper story).

So: writing a story around tropes is bad if it's demanded from the publisher like this, and with limited time to develop it, because it's what is popular now.

Using the tropes inside the book to market it, is just how you market a book. Who never ran into a great book which never got the popularity it deserves? It's because it was marketed wrong, or unsuccessfully.

Again placing and marketing a book is HELLA hard and often it's what makes it or breaks it for the book itself, even more than the content.

Let's cut authors a break on this ok (lol we can harass publishing companies though, just a little tee hee).

Third post

Do you know I actually dislike long posts??? How did I get here. Ah yes, frustration.

Why is fanfiction considered easier. 'cheaper' narrative?

Because you already know and care about the characters. Making people love our little guys is also rather hard.

If it works you will end up caring though, and people will put them in Coffee au.

This third post seems to misunderstand what tropes are. Characters are kinda always in a trope. You know that joke, after reading the vocabulary all books area remix? Tropes are how we categorize stuff happening in books (technically the recurrent things, but once we have given a name to all thing (and we have actually) everything is low key recurrent). Yes it often devolves into cliches, when a trope is cheap and obvious and kinda gratuitous. But they are 'places' where the characters are.

I, a living person, am always in some place or 'surroundings' since I am made of matter which occupies a space surrounding me. A trope is the surroundings of the characters.

You can made to care about original characters in a coffee shop, like if you are reading a cozy (example) and slowly get to know the people meeting for coffee.

The post seems to suggest that characters in books exist outside tropes. Not really. But also not a crime, I hope I explained politely why I disagree.

Why should you care for some randos meeting in a coffee shop? Well, if this is a book, consider it an essay explaining you exactly that ✨

More disclaimers.

Again, this isn't about booktok

This isn't against the publishing industry, if you have critics of them I'll probably agree.

If you take one of the things I said to the extreme to make it absurd, that is cheap, argumentative and I will ignore you. Same if you warp something away from what I meant, or your reply is based on an incorrect knowledge of this stuff, or you are just being provocative for the sake of it. Be polite and chill people.

Sorry it’s early but you really can’t use fanfiction terms in a non fanfiction context like if someone is trying to sell me a book to read and they tell me there’s an enemy to lovers I would be annoyed because why are you spoiling the story lol

[ms-demeanor]

You have mentioned that osteopaths (DOs) are not just medical woo and are roughly equivalent to MDs. I was looking into it more and finding that myofascial release and osteopathic manual manipulation seem to be verified about as well as chiropracty. As these seem to be the main differing abilities of DOs from MDs, would you explain your reasoning on trusting DOs?

I see one as part of my regular hEDS medical care for realigning and unsticking joints as well as craniosacral therapy. My perception is that it’s helpful when I’m in pain and often I can tell that something was misaligned and has been realigned, but I recognize that I see significantly more improvement when I’m regular about my PT, which is significantly more supported by medical literature.

It's not that they're roughly equivalent to MDs, it's that in terms of licensing, training, certification, scope of practice, and education they are *exactly* equivalent to MDs but they sprinkled some woo on top.

At some point, some people practicing osteopathy decided that they wanted to be real doctors, so they organized and lobbied and, very importantly, *went to medical school about it.* (As long as they went to medical school about it - make sure you're seeing a DO, not an "osteopath" - one is a legally protected term that grants the right to practice medicine and the other is not)

Completing a degree in Osteopathic Medicine requires first completing a bachelor's degree with specific requirements for biological sciences - the same course work and degree you'd do before applying to a medical school, basically. Then you get the four-year DO degree, then a one-year internship, then a residency of anywhere from three to eight years. In order to practice medicine, they have to pass the same medical board examines and have the same training qualifications as an MD. In the US, MD and DO are equivalent degrees, though DOs take extra time to study osteopathy (which is, yes, pseudoscientific nonsense).

DO programs have more of a focus on holistic one-on-one patient centered care than a lot of MD programs; DOs train and focus more on becoming primary care physicians and are less likely to become specialist surgeons (though there are DOs who are licensed to practice surgery!), but a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine is a fully qualified doctor. They have done all the same things that an MD has done - including 10,000+ hours of clinical training as part of a residency. They just ALSO do a couple hundred hours of the osteopathy stuff. There are DOs who are obstetricians, ER doctors, surgeons, endocrinologists - a DO is a full-on doctor. One of the doctors Large Bastard was treated by in the hospital in December was a DO. I cannot emphasize that enough, they are legally certified and educationally qualified to practice medicine throughout the united states.

Compare this to chiropractors, who also want to be seen as doctors, who do not need a bachelor's degree before attending a chiropractic college, whose chiropractic education is 3-4 years, and whose requirements to practice include about 4200 hours of clinical training. (Chiropractors, it should be noted, are very specifically not allowed to practice "medicine, surgery, osteopathy, dentistry or optometry" and may not provide "any drug or medicine" to patients; eat shit chiropractors)

However, you're correct, and both chiropractic and osteopathy are unsupported by good evidence.

I think the osteopathic stuff that osteopaths do is kind of a weird quirk that is tolerated by the medical establishment because it's unlikely to do harm and it doesn't prevent people from seeking actual medical care (because the DOs providing it should be providing medical care beyond osteopathy).

And even though the osteopathy itself is nonsense, a lot of people with chronic illnesses find better success being treated by a DO as their PCP because DOs - probably at least partially because they are trained in nonsense - are less dismissive of patients presenting with unusual or difficult-to-believe symptoms. DOs are less likely to ignore patients who come in with a stack of research from the internet and a journal of symptoms who are saying "I think I may have XYZ uncommon condition and I need treatment."

Personally I wish the osteopathy was cut out of it and there was just a branch of medicine that trained to listen to patients better than MDs do, but given that osteopathy isn't likely to cause significant harm either directly (WAY less risk of bad outcomes from gentle pressing and moving of the body than from rapid twisting and pulling of the upper spine) or indirectly (DOs can order tests, DOs can prescribe medication, DOs can refer to specialists, DOs get the same kind of comprehensive diagnostic education that MDs do) I don't have that much of a grudge against it. I see it more in the vein of "drinking peppermint tea probably doesn't actually do anything for nausea but hot drinks with honey in them feel good" area of pseudoscience than in the "chiropractor treating someone's cancer with apricot pits" area of pseudoscience. Except that they then also do real science.

It's a weird field, I'm not gonna lie! It feels very much like if you were talking to an orthopedic surgeon who was very much an orthopedic surgeon and then they sat you down for five minutes of a sound bath before your procedure. Doesn't make sense to me really, but the standards of practice that they have ("use actual evidence-based practice in addition to the osteopathy") cancel out the "okay but osteopathic manipulation is fake" of it all.

They kind of drive me crazy, and for a huge group of patients they're probably the best kind of provider. Hell, a DO might be the best kind of provider for *me* if I didn't have the most wonderful PA in the world as my PCP.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 10

Added dividers because I felt like the time skip/scene change would become confusing without any indication of it.

I really need an answer on how y'all feel about Immortal x Dupli-kate cuz depending on the popular opinion stuff will change 🤐 I'm willing to split a lot of people up for the drama and/or miscommunication nonsense

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 10 >>next

Some place where the supernatural meets the normal, a little place called The Oblivion Bar, John Constantine simply sat shocked at the words he managed to hear and process through his mushed brain. Bobo closes his hung jaw, drinks his whiskey, and pats his friend’s shoulder as the man mumbles a sobering spell, cringing at the effects. “I should go. Good luck, John.” And so, the chimpanzee quickly makes his exit, leaving the Laughing Magician and Death of the Endless to their business.

“I need you to walk me through this again, luv- wasn’t quite paying attention.” Constantine shook his head as he fully turned to face the smiling entity. “You and who did what?!” He hissed, voice barely above a whisper as he tried not to bring attention to what they were saying. This was bad. Really bad.

“Lady Gotham and I took a liking to Batman’s youngest daughter and-“ John quickly interrupted her. “And gave her magical powers beyond my comprehension and immortality- yes, I heard that, did you?!” The man rubbed his face, the thought was making him want to get drunk until he dropped. ”Have you gone mad? Giving a mortal immortality is more of Dream’s style you should know better-“

Death only smiled at him, amusement filling her eyes as she gently laid a hand on his shoulder making him tense up. “She was lonely, she deserves every happiness those powers and eternity are bound to give her. You’ll understand once you see her.” And boy, did John laugh his gut out at that as he shook his finger. “No- no, no, no- there’s no way I insert myself into that mess- Bat’s family is already a mess and reeks of you without magic- No- There’s no way- that’s bonkers-“

Death gets up with a bright smile. “Thank you, John.” Her words make him stutter almost choking on his breath at the audacity. “Don’t thank me ya loon! I’m not going to help her, I’m not even going to see the moppet!” He can only yell and cuss as she leaves.

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 “Alright, Cecil-“ The old man immediately interrupted you, the little communication device in your ear buzzing with life as he told you to not use names. “… Dude… I’m miles in the air, first of all! Second, that was like a really common name once. it’ll take a while to find you specifically, and I doubt anyone could anyway- you seem like the type that would erase himself from the gov’s documents.”

“Anyway-“ You didn’t give him time to say anything else. “What house am I supposed to go to again? And why?”

The old man sighs at your antics, rubbing the side of his forehead as he feels the headache coming while he gives the address once more. “Your brother’s teacher, Mr. Hiles, has been the mall bomber. It took us a while, he was smart about it, kept his search into biological bomb-making off the internet but he wasn’t that thorough about his paper trail.”

“Be prepared for anything and a confrontation.” The older man cleared his throat. You always made him nervous; you were an unexpected equation in everything, something he couldn’t control without risking Earth. Donald and everyone else just took his weariness and suspicion as him being overly cautious, but Cecil could tell something was clinging to you that just gave him nightmares.

“And thank you- usually I would have sent someone from the Teen Team but…uh-“ His eyes followed the action on another screen. “They’re busy. Your brother and father are helping them.”

“You’re nervous. Yapping again. Chill, I’ll take care of it. Just because I don’t want to be your little puppet doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep people safe.” You found the man irritating, but for now, he was being sane, actually doing his job, so you couldn’t complain. “Getting closer to the target. Going dark.”  Was the only warning the man got before the com was powered off.

Finally ready to land you politely greeted the man, walking through the training both Cecil and Nolan provided at the start of your vigilantism. “I didn’t expect to get caught quite this early, and I certainly expected… more conventional authorities when the time did come.” Professor Hiles just sighs and welcomes you in by your birth name. “How did you-“

“Are you kidding me? Mark is unable to shut up about you. And you forget to wear your hood more times than you do wear it.” The man said as he took off his sweater. “Follow me, I’ll show you to the fourth missing student. I assure you, I have no intention of resisting.” Well… This was easier than expected.

As he started to confess about how he started doing this, he led you to his basement. “Mr. Hiles, while I understand the loss of a child to suicide, a divorce, and the loss of a job ruined you until you hit rock bottom, avenging your son like this-“

“I’m not avenging the death of my son. That would be far too cliché.” Your eyes landed on the teen strapped to the table once he turned on the light, breath hitching as you saw the skin of his arms merging sloppily with the metallic torso the professor modified. “It’s the destruction of my life that has me seeking revenge.”

“The domino effect of pain and sorrow that these monsters create. Children who spend too much time at the mall, attend parties, consume alcohol, and play sports when they should be studying and doing homework.”

“I understand your ire, I’m not one for parties or drunks, but not all kids who do that stuff go to extremes, that’s a flawed logic- it does not give you the right to play god and do-“ You tried to placate him, keeping your tone soft and even, to try and make him see reason. “What I did to all of them, turning them into living bombs, an instrument with which to exact my revenge… my crusade to end the pain and sorrow by these- ‘popular’ kids… I feel no guilt for.”

“I can’t think of a more appropriate end to my crusade-” Mr. Hiles ripped open the shirt he was wearing, revealing the same mechanism the unconscious teen had. “-than the death of a superhero!” You quickly acted, not letting him talk more beyond that as the timer set to 50 seconds started trickling down while you grabbed him, breaking through his ceilings and roof and flying high in the air.

“Is this really how you want to die? Suicide bomb? You still can make this right- you don’t have to die like this just tell me how to deactivate it!“ Your eyes remained on the clock. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen. The man just chuckled a dry, humorless laugh. “Do it. There is nothing for me anymore.” Five, four, three.

You couldn’t tell if what you felt was sorrow or shame, but you knew you were defeated. The man was going to get one final death, but it won’t be yours. As your flight came to a stop well above the clouds, you threw the man higher in front of you as the clock struck one second, and as it hit zero, the bomb detonated, the range and heat of the explosion destroying any remains while pushing you back a bit.

Your eyes remained on the cloud of smoke it created. If the cops found him before you did, the bomb would have wiped out the neighbors, too. That’s what hero life was, what it is. Sacrifices left and right that only made you feel more at odds with this job than before.

As you went back to the house, you activated the com, putting it back into your ear. Cecil immediately informs you that the police are en route as well as his clean-up team. “Get an explosive ordnance disposal technician, too. There is a teen in the basement, the bomb doesn’t seem active yet, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’ll send a report of what happened soon.” You stayed until Cecil’s people showed up, just to be sure the boy was still breathing and that the bomb wouldn’t activate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Helping Brit and the other heroes clean up the rubble from the alien attack helped keep your mind off things. The Brit enjoyed talking about his kid and wife, yapping until he needed to take a breath and then starting again keeping a smile on your face.

You enjoyed helping clean up, especially when there were no casualties, today wasn't that type of day. But it had become the easy, relaxing part of the job, pick big rubble up, place it into the waste trucks, pick another piece up, make sure to not hit the man in the trench coat, put it in the waste- wait…

Your head snaps back to the man, squinting as your eyes meet. You each take a second to take each other in before your eyes widen in surprise. “Hello, luv. I’m-“ You couldn’t help your excitement as recognition finally settled into your brain. “I know you-“ Your words made John cringe and tense up. When others said that it never ended well for him. “You’re Johnny Con-Job, the lead singer for Mucous Membrane, dude, your band got me into the punk culture.”

That… wasn’t what he expected. He wasn’t sure if he should be proud of that or fight back the mental breakdown that was creeping up his spine. “You’re a bit young for that slop, no?” You just shrug. “Your songs got me to finally put myself first, to get the courage to sneak out, see other stuff beyond the walls of my first house, help others, and leave my neglectful family before they could seriously hurt me.” Her words worried him. John never took Bruce as the “lock his kids up” type, but the man was as paranoid as they came, he wouldn’t put that above him.

“It may be slop and shitty vocals, but it’s what I needed to hear.” You teased him while putting the rubble in the waste collector. He watched as you approached him with a soft smile and sparkling eyes. He could see what Death meant. “I need to talk to you. I’m not quite sure about what luv, but I think it’s about Batman-“ He didn’t get to finish, as soon as the name left his mouth, he was grabbed by the throat and lifted well above the clouds, way too close to the ozone layer. “Did he send you?” you hissed, giving his neck a warning squeeze.

Yup. He definitely saw what Death meant as your eyes glowed a Lazarus green. “Nno-“ He choked out. “Did Bruce Wayne send you?” her question was met with the same answer. Your grip softened, grabbing him by his coat instead of his neck as you brought him closer. “Then why are you here?”

“We need to talk in private…” He whispered as he realized the situation.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

This was a whole mess that John Constantine knew he should have stayed out of- he knew! From Bruce to the whole family basically ignoring the kid, not even telling her about the vigilantism, to the rogues taking her in and doing a better job of raising her to her running away and getting adopted by another hero- a hero that John knew wanted to conquer the world, the whole fucking race wanted to, the fucking demons had a problem with that and wouldn’t stop complaining to him like he can fix it- he takes a deep breath in. “Why are you telling me all of this?” He whined, rubbing his face as he sat on the edge of some skyscraper with you.

“I’m not hiding my past, I’ll happily snitch and tell a reporter that Bruce Wayne is a shit father, they all just assume I’m Nolan’s actual kid that was in the hospital for a deadly something or whatever.” You shrug. “Please don’t- not because I care about the bellend- I just don’t want to deal with… Huh. Now that I’m thinking about it, that may be great blackmail.” His words only made you snicker.

He didn’t know where to begin. Did she know about the Viltrumite? Was she in cahoots with him? Should he tell her any of that? Would she even believe his ass? Maybe he should get the JL involved...

The scruffy man shook his head. “Not why I’m here. You said your hero name is Sorceress? Great, so you know you have magic powers, that makes it easy-“ John took in your shocked expression. Of course, it wasn’t that easy, it never could be. “If this was another world, I’d call you crazy.” You told him simply. “But Midnight City is cursed, and I guess that makes sense… Is that why I can hear the shadows speak?”

John nodded before doing a double take, asking you to elaborate on the shadows speaking part.  “They just speak, whisper, giggle the whole thing. They can also emit what they feel. They’ve always been present, they’re not as strong here, but I think that’s because they’re more tied to Gotham and Midnight City… or just- where there is more darkness.”

“Well, you’re not far off there, love.” The man nodded in agreement as his eyes drifted to the dark dome around the cursed city. He knew where to start. “This is going to be a long explanation, you better strap in, hen, and let me finish before you ask questions.”

“You remember the painting and murals you made of gods and other entities, demons, angels, the whole sort, in Gotham and here? Yeah, they brought the attention to you from the entities you drew. Some of the moppets took them as a higher form of offering than others, a few of them decided to stick around you.”

“Those have also decided to- ‘bless’ you with a few gifts, I’m not sure of all of them, but I know specifically that Lady Gotham offered the shadows as a companion and protector, and I know that Death of the Endless has blessed you with… well, immortality.” There was no way of walking around that fact. “I don’t remember if any of these two also gave you your powers, I was quite sloshed, but someone did.” John looked at the kit, taking in her shocked expression before he nudged you a bit. “Come on, kid, say something. You got me all worried here.”

“It’s all just- a bit much.” You mumble. “Yeah, I get it. A lot for you to shoulder, but I’m sure you’ll power through- oh, thanks love… Wha- How-“ John’s eyes moved from the beer in his hands to the energy can you were looking at. You just shrug. "I wanted to know if I could, thought…” You narrow your eyes at the can in your hands. “I’m not sure if this is made out of thin air or just- teleported or something.”

Constantine just slowly looks back at his beer mug… She was taking this better than most. He hoped it was because the shock hadn’t worn off yet. Well, he’s had worse things in his mouth, he's sure, so with a shrug, he takes a sip, humming with delight at the taste, muttering something about this being real beer. “You’re here to help me, right? Like- with my powers… I- I think I need help with this whole worshipping gods and demons- entities- thing, too.”

He knew the easy way out would be to say no, to just leave, she had done just fine without him… But that isn’t what came out of his mouth. “Sure, poppet. Just keep on giving me this fine beer.” Given his track record with people and magic, he shouldn’t feel this accomplished at your happiness, but he was always quite selfish, so he returned your hug, even if he was a bit stiff.

“Now- usually the normal thing is to go from small stuff to big, teach the basics, but I’m not one for rules. Have you ever wanted to teleport via portals?” The big mischievous smile you gave him was all the answer he needed.

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You came home at the same time as Nolan and Mark, everyone’s first stop after greeting Debbie was their bedrooms to refresh themselves before going back to the dining area. “I’m going to be honest, Nolan, the longer hair and full beard fit you better than the silly mustache. Right, mom?” You couldn’t help the teasing as the whole family ate. Debbie looked at Nolan with a scrutinizing eye, before sighing and giving an amused smile. “I’ll definitely miss the beard.”

Mark snorted at the teasing as Nolan pouted, brows furrowing. “It’s not silly- it’s a rite of passage into manhood by the Viltrumite culture-“ you couldn’t help but interrupt. “It’s still a silly-looking mustache. What does the Viltrumite rite of passage for women look like?”

Nolan’s momentary displeasure at the mustache comment was overlooked as the inquiry about the Viltrumite women was brought forth. “Huh… I’m not sure, I never really paid attention to that. I think some cut their hair.” A puff of air escaped you in amusement before deciding to tease him some more. “Well, you clearly weren’t planning for a daughter that’s sure.”

Debbie just took in the chatter. She enjoyed the easy atmosphere, the laughter of her kids. “So, how was everyone’s day?” She asks once the chatter stops. “Oh, I met the Teen Team and helped them with the Flaxan attack, dad got kidnapped by them while I was trying to gather up survivors, made friends with Atom Eve, and met an alien called Allen who apparently got the wrong planet.” Mark shrugged.

“I spent the last eight months enslaved by an army from an alternative dimension, although it seems much less time has passed here. About a week ago, I led a revolt against my captors and regained control of my powers. Today, a team of scientists from the rebellion found a way to get me home.” Nolan lied as easily as he breathed.

“One of Mark’s teachers was turning his classmates into organic bombs in order to take revenge on kids he felt were like the ones who led his son to commit suicide. He turned himself into a bomb also and tried to take me out with him but clearly, it didn’t work in his favor. Helped clean up after the Flaxan mess, and met the lead singer of Mucous Membrane who apparently is a mage. He was here on behalf of Death herself to help me and tell me that my powers aren’t because I’m a meta, they’re magic. Oh, and also, I’m allegedly immortal.” You took a sip of water. “Lex also wants to know if anyone would be interested in attending one of his rich folk parties.”

At the quietness of the room, you lifted your eyes from your plate to look at everyone’s shocked glance. “What?” you ask with a mouth full of food.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That night, the teens wanted to sleep with their parents, both needing reassurance. Debbie and Mark were already gone, sleeping deep and peacefully. “Dad… You awake?” your question was whispered as your head lay on Deborah's shoulder. He answered with a warm hand squeezing your shoulder and a quiet hum. “...How do you move past people you can’t save or the people we have to sacrifice?”

Nolan wasn’t sure how to answer that, he’d never felt anything for the people he couldn’t save. He knew that if he had to save earth’s people or his kids and wife… Well… Earth can be populated again. “You look at the people who you did save. We can’t always save everyone, that’s the sad reality. It’s… painful. But it’s a truth all heroes have to come to terms with. Even I can’t save everyone.” Nolan wrapped his arms around his girls and son tighter, pulling everyone closer. “If all you could save was a person, you still did everything you could. If you couldn’t save anyone, you just have to keep your head high and try again.”

You snuggled closer into your mom, feeling her arm instinctively wrap around you as you draped yours over her and Nolan’s stomach, your fingers laying on Mark’s wrist. The sad reality of being a hero...

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

I'M REALLY SORRY IF I FORGOT SOMEBODY- MY DOC SOMETIMES FORGETS TO SAVE AND I HAD TO READD PPL

[00valentina-writes00]

How about sevika with a terminally sick gf. I really loved the one you wrote for vi

♡♥︎Sevika with a terminally ill girlfriend♥︎♡

♥︎ Sevika doesn’t show much, but she’s absolutely destroyed when she finds out. There’s a crack in her usually unflappable armor, a flicker of vulnerability she tries to bury beneath her usual hard edges.

♥︎ She doesn’t talk about it much, but she starts keeping tabs on doctors, researching treatments, and trying to get her hands on any illegal or experimental cures she can afford. She won’t let you give up, even if you’re already resigned.

♥︎ Her usual harshness turns into something colder. She doesn’t waste time with anything unnecessary. If she’s going to help you, it’s going to be in the most effective way possible. No sentimental words, just straight to the point: “I’ll fix this. You’re not dying on me.”

♥︎ When you start getting weaker, she gets more demanding. She pushes you to eat, to stay awake, to fight. She’s relentless because if she doesn’t see you fight, it breaks her apart

♥︎ There are nights when she stays up late, arms crossed, staring out at the dark streets of Zaun, thinking about ways to make you better. Even the shimmer she injects into her system doesn’t offer any comfort when she watches you fade.

♥︎ She spends hours researching obscure treatments, bargaining with shady figures, doing whatever it takes to extend your life, even if it’s just a few more weeks or days. It doesn’t matter how much it costs.

♥︎ At some point, she starts finding herself hovering at your side all the time. She doesn’t want to leave. Not even to sleep. It becomes a strange routine for her, a kind of forced comfort where the silence between you is full of things neither of you are brave enough to say.

♥︎ If you’re awake enough, she’ll push your hair out of your face, but she won’t look you in the eyes. She doesn’t know how to handle the emotions you bring out in her, and it terrifies her.

♥︎ She never asks you how you’re feeling or if you want to talk about it, because she’s afraid you’ll say that you’re giving up. She can’t handle hearing it from your lips, even though she knows deep down you’re right.

♥︎ She starts to get more agitated, snapping at people who are just trying to help because nothing feels like it’s good enough. If anyone says something remotely positive about your situation, she shuts them down hard. She can’t pretend like there’s hope when there’s none.

♥︎ When you can’t leave the bed anymore, Sevika starts bringing everything to you. Food, water, medicine, books to distract you—anything to keep you from slipping further into the darkness.

♥︎ She never shows her tears, but sometimes when she thinks you’re sleeping, she finds herself staring at you, face etched with raw pain, her jaw clenched tight to hold back the wave of emotions that threatens to drown her.

♥︎ Her temper is worse than usual. She’s quick to lash out at others, mostly because she’s so incredibly fucking scared. Scared of losing you. Scared of not being able to save you. And she hates herself for not being able to fix it.

♥︎ She makes herself scarce around people when it gets worse. She’s quieter, more brooding, because the weight of her guilt and helplessness is too heavy to share. The only place she feels even a little bit in control is by your side.

♥︎ On the nights you’re too weak to speak, she holds your hand with a tightness that borders on painful. Her touch is demanding, like she’s afraid you’ll slip away in the blink of an eye.

♥︎ She doesn’t let you see her fear. Every day is a reminder of how much she’s failing you. And every time she sees that spark of hope in your eyes, it drives her mad because she knows she can’t keep it alive forever.

♥︎ As things worsen, she starts avoiding the topic of your death. It feels like a betrayal every time someone mentions it. She ignores the reality, pretending there’s a chance things will magically improve.

♥︎ When you do finally die, it feels like she’s been hit by a freight train. The finality of it leaves her in a state of shock, unable to process it. She doesn’t cry in front of you, not even when she closes your eyes for the last time.

♥︎ Sevika keeps busy after your passing. She throws herself into work, into anything that will distract her from the empty space beside her. She stops sleeping, drinking herself into oblivion, until her body can’t keep up with her broken heart.

♥︎ There are days when the memories hit her in waves. She can still hear your voice in her head, your laugh, the way you’d complain when she pushed too hard. And every time, it feels like a weight she can’t shake.

♥︎ People stop asking her how she’s doing because it’s obvious. She doesn’t need words anymore. The silence speaks for her. She’s the same outwardly—cold, distant—but internally, she’s unraveling, a mess of emotions she doesn’t know how to deal with.

♥︎ She tries to convince herself it’s better this way. You aren’t suffering anymore, and she can’t deny that you were getting worse. But she also knows she’ll never be the same again. That part of her is gone, taken by something she could never control.

♥︎ In the long run, Sevika doesn’t let anyone get close to her again. The wound you left in her will never heal, and she doesn’t think anyone could ever fill the hole you left behind. Not that she’s ready for that anyway

♥︎ But every now and then, when she’s alone, she lets herself think back to you. To the time you spent together, how you made her laugh, how you made her feel alive again. And she lets herself grieve the woman who was once hers.

[sugareimon]

Alright, I have something to say about this, so I’m going to yap for a while. Bear with me, everyone, but I think that now more than ever, this is important for young people (and all people) like me to hear.

There are only so many things in life that we can control.

(What is within our control is the same as what we have power over.)

You are not obligated to fix things that we cannot control. I repeat: YOU ARE NOT OBLIGATED TO FIX THINGS THAT WE CANNOT CONTROL! You need to be aware of what is within your power to do and what problems in your life you’re actually able to fix. Thanks to the internet, we’re being made aware of things that we cannot control all the time, and we get anxious over it. It’s the dilemma: “Do I follow the news of issues around the world to be aware of what’s happening and feel the negativity, or do I choose to be ignorant for my own mental health?”… I cannot make that choice for you, and I’m not here to do that. I also won’t judge what you choose.

But as someone who believes that staying aware (that’s the original meaning of woke, by the way) is necessary to create real, tangible positive change in the world, the philosophy I’m explaining currently is my key to staying sane.

If you read this far, I’m you also want to fix the world’s problems in order to create a reality where no human being must suffer under the cruelty of oppression. More simply, you believe bigotry and unfairness is wrong and you want to do something about it.

But don’t you feel helpless to do that? How can you- a single person- change the world for the better? How can you stop the genocide when there’s laundry to do?

Remember: there are things within our control.

- We can often choose who we buy from (boycotting).

- We can help our communities (volunteer work).

- We can educate others (posting stuff on the internet).

- We can engage in mutual aid (communicating with and helping those around us).

- We can protest the bad things in the world (strikes, riots, calling our local representatives).

These things won’t make a big difference immediately, but there is strength in numbers. We can create a revolutionary movement, and it starts with one person at a time.

It starts with you.

Don’t worry about things you can’t do. That’ll only hurt you. Just do what you can, okay? That’s all anybody can ever ask of you.

Quietly losing my mind over the fact that Elon Musk has straight up orchestrated a coup of our executive branch and like....I don't even know what, if any, system we have in place to fix this. Like... He's just taken control of the money and locked out the actual appointed officials. What the fuck.

[sabertoothwalrus]

I dunno if this is asking too much of your time/being obnoxious but, what sort of study/practice would you recommend for someone who wants to do comics professionally but can't go to college for it/is financially strapped?? Thank you for reading this!

well, considering I’m not going to school to do comics and have never done comics professionally, I definitely think it’s something you can teach yourself! I’ve thought about doing graphic novels, but haven’t done much research. I can share what general information I know.

The skills you’d use to make storyboards stronger are VERY transferrable to the ones that make comics stronger. It’s best to have a good sense of perspective, storytelling/pacing, visual clarity, action, etc.

Comics have a fun little quirk where you can really play with time in a way that storyboards can’t. In a storyboard, if two characters have their mouths open at the same time, the animator will assume they’re speaking at the same time. But in comics, you can have multiple moments in a singular panel, and time will “pass” as the reader’s eye moves across it.

There’s lots of different ways to arrange comics. The webtoons-style scroll comics are very popular right now, and they’re nice in the sense that you spend less time worrying about how an entire page is arranged, BUT it makes it harder if you ever decide to sell a physical version. Spending the extra time at the beginning to set up your formatting will save you trouble in the long run.

Also consider time. Making a comic can be a long term commitment. Figure out how frequently you can produce finished pages without burning out— daily? Three times a week? Once a week?— and calculate how long it’d take you to fill up a volume. Would it be your full time job, or would you be working on top of that? A lot of serialized comics can be a 10+ year commitment!!

There’s also publishing independently, or working for a studio. Indie comics will give you more freedom for what your story/art direction/deadlines will be, but comics are very oversaturated and hard to get readers looking at your work. A studio will help with that kind of thing, but depending where you go, you may be illustrating based on a concept someone else has written (which— that can be preferable for some people!).

But regardless, the best way to study comics is by reading comics! Pay attention to art styles you like (and if it has an entire team of assistants helping it look that way), pay attention to speech bubble arrangements, how value is used, how panels are shaped. And pay attention to when you’re confused too! You can learn from other artists’ mistakes.

and draw a lot. I started doing “comics” ~2016 by drawing all the panels on a page in my sketchbook, and then taking pictures of each part zoomed in with my phone, and then posting the panels as individual images. At some point that translated to me doing digital comics where I draw on one canvas, and make a new layer for each panel. I do this a lot still! And more recently I’ve been putting an effort into doing paneled comics. It’s not as hard as it used to be for me, but now I have almost 10 years of comic experience under my belt!! So keep drawing!!! Just do it a lot and you’ll get better

[elodieunderglass]

I hope your evening is better than your day was. ✨💫

In reference to me haggardly saying in the tags that after the day I’d had, everything (horrible things with legs) that my loved ones (you guys) were doing to heal me (send me horrible things with legs) was a help. And it was. And you are.

It was a tough old month already. But it’s all swings-and-roundabouts, snakes-and-ladders, win-some-lose-some, 🫴🫳.

I sleep about 9 hours in 48 at the moment, which is not especially great, owing to the Wretchedness of Mouse (2), a largely nocturnal animal. But then when Mouse is awake at Mouse o’Clock and quietly pottering around on Mouse Business, there isn’t much I can usefully do, so I’m just curled up with Dr Glass’s tablet, peacefully drawing Killie the jockey OC. As a result I’ve realised something massive for me, that my creativity is THERE, but fuelled by self-indulgence! Like, with stuff like fanfic projects and Killie, there was always a lot of “mental braking” on before, with me anticipating (based on evidence experience of posting my writing online for mumblety-many years) how much people would dislike it - put the brakes on, Elodie, we can’t let the haters know that we yearn. But hey, I started rambling on about fics and my own OCs, and YES it’s probably startling and annoying for some people and I do apologise, but ALSO you’ve all been very kind, and I think that it’s better for me to have the brakes off. 4 am takes notwithstanding, it’s better to have the brakes off. So what if I’m cringe and occasionally annoying - I have paid my dues and done my duties.

The new shed at the allotment blew down, but we have been forgiven for our carelessness in allowing it to happen, and two people on the committee have approached me with kindness - one committee member even stopping me in a shop to tell me, “people want to help you, Elodie, we’re your friends, you know.” Citation needed, but there you go.

Saturdays are always made especially for me dreadful by taking children to swimming lessons, on foot both ways, but usually we walk on to meet friends for coffee after. I go out with my friends and play board games with our neighbours and have learned how to play Wingspan.

Dr Glass received an official diagnosis of ME, but I bought a robot vacuum in the strength of that - saying, well, why assume things will ever get easier? Let’s get easy now! - and actually I really like having a robot vacuum!!

There have been more causes than I could help with, but my promotion has strengthened the coffers, so this month I’ve been able to donate to a few!

Due to childcare falling through, I had to take all three kids to an antifash protest in the cold and was dreading it - the walking, the whining, is it going to be awkward, i trust the organisers but HE’S not bringing his kids, GOD. But then my neighbour and her giant puppy came with us! on purpose! And we knew a lot of people there and the kids played.

I had to buy some clothes for work, and I never buy anything new (never having money) and was scared I’d get it wrong (stupid and weird) but I buckled up and bought these: https://www.disturbia.co.uk/products/rosamoth-button-up-midi-skirt https://www.disturbia.co.uk/products/swamplife-frog-embroidered-linen-blend-high-waist-midaxi-skirt

And it sounds bonkers, but the amount of people at work, etc, who have come up and instantly allied themselves with me on the strength of Frog Skirt / Moth Skirt has strengthened my convictions. Strongly recommend Frog Skirt / Moth Skirt and their emotional equivalents if you hit a stage of career where you need to suddenly level up.

I am thinking about counterweights. And kindness. And the balance of the turning world. And the light in the sky coming back. And, unfortunately, Killie, but he’s a counterweight too; sure, he’s awful, but we already know he contains the seeds of becoming okay.

As evidence suggests that many things do.

Thank you for your shining kindness, and my love back to you 💫

[twistedpink]

nsfw below the cut! 2 1

The format is Character/Length (in inches)/Bedroom Skill

Rook Hunt - 4 - 6/10

-His only sexual education is very much “Rabbits make more rabbits” but his romance is to die for!!! You won’t even have to ask to be indulged- all you have to do is say yes :)

-Rook is astonishingly well groomed for someone who works on their feet. The spare hours of self care he gets between his beauty sleep and people watching does wonders for any sport-stenches (I mean, unless you’re into that kind of thing). He’s always doing something with the “presentation of his undercarriage”, and isn’t afraid to let you cop a feel in public!

-He’s all about experimentation with your pleasure, and it’s not that he refuses online resources, but isn’t it so much better naturally? Where’s the sense of adventure if some stranger on the internet is telling you where to touch him? After lots, (loads, really) of trial and error, he’s sure you’ll get a sense of rhythm. It’s never too early to start exploring!

Idia Shroud - 7 - 3/10

-Everyone can agree that Idia is too big for his own good. Massive, really- And he hates it. He’s been perma banned from the most comfortable thing on earth! How’s he supposed to enjoy going commando when his tip’s out in the open??

-He does NOT know how to use the monster in his pants, but he’s not objecting to a teacher :) When you first start getting “active” he’s painfully professional about it. No eye contact, no problem! You’ll wear him down eventually, but it’ll take awhile for anything truly intimate,,

-The worst thing about sex with Idia is the need. White-hot and throbbing, but so infrequent!! His libido is SO high, always pawing at you after school, but he can’t hold back for the life of him :/ Ten full minutes of rest for another three of penetration? Oh no, your only option is to overestimate him,, whatever shall he dooooo

Malleus Draconia - 3 - 7/10

-Two words. FUCKIN MARATHONS!! Malleus is comically bad at anything sexual- and you’re the one who has to initiate most things, but he can go hours without any pain between the two of you! And the AFTERCARE?? 10/10. Imagine playing with his scales while you wait on breakfast in bed <333

-Malleus is far too big for any usual quicky spots, but nobody can compete in forced proximity! It’s so easy to drag him into a broom closet between classes- Everyone avoids him anyways, and because he very rarely slouches he has to in the confines of your rendezvous, so it’s a completely new angle!

-He’s a little (lot) inexperienced, but he’s learning so much with your help! Nobody questions that he keeps his nails short or demands chapstick whenever he recalls the time, because nobody questions Malleus Draconian. He’d like very much for you to change that- order him around, kiss him bloody! So long as it’s you he’ll be happy :)

Lilia Vanrouge - 5 - 8/10

-Lilia’s a believer of “it’s the motion of the ocean - not the size of the wave”, and he KNOWS his ass has motion. All these years working on his core and arms only to be reduced to some petty slut :/ It’s all he’s ever wanted!

-Doesn’t bother shaving, nothing on him grows quickly enough for regular maintenance, and that does include his sex drive :( He wakes up sweaty and shaking whenever he ignores his rarer urges, but he’s lucky enough to have you! You’ll indulge him for a little biting, won’t you? Not his fault if you want more,,

-He’s a MASSIVE whiner, but he knows you loveeee it <3 All these years muffling his voice for colleagues and kids, it’s a miracle to have soundproof walls! With his little bouts of energy, you won’t be leaving bed anytime soon- lay back and let him cook for you! Or maybe you’d rather he just eat?

(no full proofread until tmr, we die like Malleanor)

[kizzer55555]

I don’t think other Fae would copy him because Danny (intentionally or not) has patented his strategy in ghost standard. They are incredibly salty none of them thought of it first but also seriously respect Danny for it.

Also….just imagine Crime slowly going down. Because Danny is accidentally using his favors. Oh, this guy needs medicine for his family? He knows a guy who’s a doctor, he can ask if he’d be willing to take a look. You need a new job? I think Micheal just fired someone. What? Your home was burnt down? Didn’t Kevin need a new roommate for rent? Don’t worry, I can vouch for you.

Cause Danny like…knows everything about everyone and so he’s just matching people up with those who can help without realising it. The people end up doing the favors, and bettering their lives. Win win.

With less desperate people and less jobless or homeless or sick/drugged people (fae food is the magic cure for addiction), suddenly, there’s a lot less reason to do crime. Now it’s only those who intentionally want more money or enjoy causing harm.

Also…by being owned by Danny…there’s a certain level of…protection. Things happens where people were able to walk out of a collapsing building with barely a scratch, able to escape a fire…or maybe they are running from the joker and suddenly a door leads straight to the coffee shop. Sure…it’s suppose to be on the other side of town but they do not care and ignore the weirdness. Whenever one of his vassals are in danger…Danny can instincivly sense it. He can also feel a little push. Like the urge to let off just a bit of ectoplasm in the environment. It’s more like a sneeze really so these little bursts are easy to play off. Probbaly ghost allergies or something. They’ve been happening a lot in Gotham. Of course…his released ectoplasm instinctively knows what to do and alters the environment to protect his people. Maybe adding an invisible ghost shield over their skin…or manipulating the environment to take out the danger…sometimes it just brings them to Danny knowing the’ll be safest there. Just a bunch of minor coincidences that make it so people get out of dangerous situations they really shouldn’t have survived.

Danny is a Fae at Starbucks

So! Danny works by Fae Rules, Names and all, but he has no idea about that because he was forced to run away from Home (and the Ghost portal) before his Ghostly Education could be completed.

He runs to Gotham and eventually gets a job at Starbucks, or some other Cafe.

He has to ask the question "Could I get your name please?" A LOT while working there. And unintentionally steals hundreds of Names by the end of his first day, much less a week or a month into his job.

One day, Constantine visits Gotham for a Meeting with Batman, but by the time he gets to the Meeting Point he has bigger issues to discuss.

"Why the hell does half of your City belong to a Fae Lord?!"

[colorfulwastelandvoid]

In defense of MelJay

I just need to say this…SHUT UP! Yall are all tap dancing on my last nerve.I’m am at my wits end with this fandom. Every time I think we take one step forward some dufus pushes us two steps back.

Okay. I’m arguing with a JayVik shipper on TikTok who says MelJay is boring and toxic. I am about to explode this shit can’t still be the main conversation about this ship.

So first off MelJay is “boring”. This isn’t unique to JayVik nor is it the first time someone has said this about MelJay, but I always find it weird when people say certain ships are boring. The ships in question are usually just chill and communicative so there is no needless drama. This probably relates more to online fandoms’ obsession with romanticizing toxicity but I digress. It’s weird that the tension and political intrigue,something of which yall claim to love about the show overall, is in someway boring. The fact they are not constantly arguing or disregarding each other was nice cause I hate that those interactions are normalized in fandom in regard to romantic ships. If one of them had something to say then they would just say it and they would discuss it and move on like a normal couple. There is a lot to digest with them though as separate characters and as a couple. While Mel and Jayce are similar they obviously are not exactly alike. Mel it’s a lot more closed off and tempered and Jayce is more emotionally open and is hot headed. Both want to do good and have enough ambition to do so. It is their methods that differentiate them. Mel is more comfortable working behind the scenes whereas Jayce runs head first. These little differences offers up moments of character growth for both these characters. Mel started to become more aggressive (she was never docile) in her emotions and tactics where Jayce became more level headed.

The second one is that they are toxic. I’m going to keep this part short cause I already addressed this multiple times on this tumblr, so I’ll just bring up my highlights. Mel was not manipulating Jayce throughout their whole relationship. The only times where we see her manipulations is with Hoskel , but f him who cares about that man, and Jayce during progress day when they weren’t even together and Viktor wanted Jayce to do the same thing Mel was asking him to do. He didn’t even listen to her either. Mel and Jayce were genuinely attracted to one another so no she didn’t eventually fall for him she liked him from the first kiss. After a certain point we must recognize that Jayce was coming to Mel for advice and she gave it. Whether he listened to her or not. The investment line, an investment to Mel is not the same as investment to Jayce. An investment to Mel is like an action word. She invested in Hextech cause she genuinely believed in Jayce and Viktors ability to do good and she wanted to help similar to how a parent invest in their child, not because they think they’ll get something in return but because they love and believe in their kid. Jayce knows that, hence why he apologized for insinuating otherwise.

A lot of the so called toxicity the fandom claims they see is cause no one is meaningfully engaging with Mel or Jayce as characters but are just trying to get them to work in whatever ship they see fit.

Listen at the end of the day ship who you want but how you ship is gonna get your critiqued. For the love of anything that’s holy engage with the characters as their own separate entities. Your ships will thank you for it.

Ps I doubt this will be the last time some one will piss me off about Mel, Jayce or their relationship but I’m trying to keep this page more happy, for a lack of better words,so I’m trying not to rant to much. I got one more though. It’ll be way shorter though.

[lsunstreakerl]

ok! here it is- the alternative to Search History, where Max's injury is worse. It changes several things, very significantly. 4.2k words, some major time skips. Max POV, Daniel POV.

When they ask him later what happened, Max won't have an answer. He doesn't know. If he ever did, it's lying in the wreckage of the RB20- right next to his career and his championship dreams. It's burned and sooty, tucked somewhere between half melted race boots and jagged carbon. It's resting between Max's life and the accident that retired Adrian from the sport for good, and it smells like burnt track and gas.

All Max remembers is the car. His car, warm under his hands and legs, tuned to finest twitches of his legs and feet, their harmony.

Him, the car, and the track.

Well done Baku.

------

"Gap from Norris behind closing."

Max isn't a huge fan of being told about who's behind him- although this season, it just means he needs to get ready to defend. Not just on the track, but also whichever of his actions he inevitably gets ripped to shreds for by the media later.

His eyes flick to his mirrors, and sure enough, there's fucking papaya behind him, because Lando has decided this is the year to really put a thorn in Max's side.

They're coming up on a tight turn, and there's a snap of orange behind him, and something is wrong-

People say that things move slower, right before an accident. Max sees everything in clarity- his steering wheel, the McLaren spinning out behind him, catching his rear wing, the blue sky, cloudless, the stone walls ahead of him.

He knows in reality that the accident happens in seconds.

It feels like hours, from the slightest hint of impact to the realization that Max is about to send the full force of his car, as well as Lando's, propelling him forward, into the barrier- and then the wall.

Things are slow. He should've called Vic before he got in the car. He should've agreed to go out with the baby bulls for dinner last week. He should've told Charles he loved him again, that he was proud of him. He should've snuggled the cats more, given them all the treats they wanted.

Max watches the wall get closer, and has a moment to make peace with himself. He should have done those things, but he didn't.

He still tried. He raced and he loved and right now, that might have to be enough.

He hopes Charles wins it. With both Max and Lando out of the race, it'll be a good points haul. Max wants him to do well.

The stonework ahead is old, weathered by time and history. The barrier in front of it is familiar, and it won't be enough. Max hasn't crashed this badly since Silverstone.

It's going to hurt.

Max doesn't let go of the steering wheel.

The wall is the last thing he sees.

------

"Max, are you okay?"

"Come in Max."

"Just hit the button, come on Max."

"Max?"

------

Charles is burning breakfast again. There's a reason they usually get takeout- Max doesn't like to go near the oven in the mornings, and Charles in the kitchen is a genuine safety hazard.

Max will get up and save their kitchen in a moment, but he's going to stay in bed right now, even if whatever Charles is burning really is horrendous- smells like burning rubber. He feels a little bit achy, like maybe he went too hard on the gym routine yesterday.

He doesn't want to open his eyes, perfectly content to keep them closed. There's a crick in his neck.

"Max!"

Charles is calling him from the kitchen. His voice sounds weird- staticky and British. Maybe Max was dreaming about racing.

"Max, c'mon, please-"

Now Lando is in their flat, even though Max would really just like to rest, and he's tugging at Max's arms.

The duvet must be tangled tight around him, based on the way Lando is yanking at things. He should be more gentle- Max is still trying to sleep.

"Max, please- there's fucking fire, and I'm not- Max you have to help me here, please wake up-"

The kitchen better not be on fire. They just got their countertops replaced.

Lando sounds genuinely distressed, and Max feels bad, he does, but he's trying to sleep here, even if the flat is getting uncomfortably warm.

Lando will have to figure something else out.

Max tries to drop his head down, only to realize it's already down, chin droping towards his chest. There's a weird pressure on the back of his neck, and it really is getting hot, but-

"MAX!"

"You need to back away so we can get him out."

"He's not dead is he? Tell me he's not dead, fucking- TELL ME!"

"Sir, please back away-"

The sprinkler alarm must be going on, because it's cooling down, cold droplets splattering onto Max's thighs. His head feels weird, like he has a helmet on, but that can't be right- he's at home.

Besides- there's something hot and wet sliding down Max's forehead, and that shouldn't be possible with a helmet on.

There's hands on Max, tugging at the duvet and at him, and he's seriously starting by to get pissed about the moving around thing- he wants to rest. He wants a day with Charles and the pets, wants that day to be the rest of his life.

Someone's crying in another room, desperate choking sobs, and he swears he can hear Lando again, but he isn't making any sense.

"Please, please tell me he's okay, I don't- don't make me have to tell his partner, I can't-"

"Sir you need to get in the medical van."

They finally get Max untangled from the bed, which is seriously rude, and then he's being dragged.

It's uncomfortable, and it doesn't make sense, because everything is hard, feels more like the car than anything, and Max's head hurts, and he still hasn't opened his eyes up.

There's a weird floating sensation, and then Max is back on something, a board, and he's being strapped in, like when he's in the car.

He's ready to wake up now, doesn't understand what's going on.

His limbs won't respond.

He can't hear Lando anymore.

------

Max wakes up slow, like he's trying to swim up from a deep dive, but he can't break the waters surface, feels caught in a half limbo. There's a warm weight on his right hand, a thumb brushing over the skin. There's people walking around, and Max thinks he hears Christian.

"We could you use for Lawson."

A moment of silence.

"I meant it, when I said I wouldn't work with anyone else. You'll have to pull up someone different- I'm done. How's Adrian?"

"He said if he never designs a car again it'll be too soon."

A heavy sigh. It sounds like GP, sitting next to Max. He wishes he could check.

"Fuck."

GP sounds broken. Max isn't sure what could have caused it, but he's going to fix that- GP should never sound like that.

"How is...?"

The sound of someone dropping heavy into a chair.

"Inconsolable. Has been since the accident- no one's been able to get through to him."

"But he hasn't visited."

"No, he hasn't."

It's quiet for a moment, long enough that Max starts to drift back off.

"Is there any chance...?"

Another heavy sigh from GP, and his thumb stutters over Max's hand.

"They said maybe. There's no way to know until he wakes up, and there's- there's a nerve decompression procedure they could try, but there's no solid proof it actually works. Even if it does, he's never- it won't be anything like before."

Christian makes a strangled kind of laughing noise, but it's sharp and jagged, nothing like his usual warmth.

"Christ, might be about time for me to retire as well."

"Join the club."

GP's voice is dry, and Max is confused- Adrian retiring? GP? Christian?

He forces himself through the haze, higher and higher, until he can wrap his fingers around GP's and squeeze.

GP chokes on a soft noise, and then Christian is shouting down the hallway for a nurse, and then everything gets really noisy.

Max lets them move him around, hook up monitors and equipment, and then things quiet for a moment, and a gloved hand rests lightly on his arm.

"Hello Max, nice to have you with us. My name is Dr. Martin, I've been helping take care of you. How are you feeling?"

Something is- it's weird. Max must have some kind of blindfold on, because he can feel himself blinking, but-

Everything is a dark, murky haze. He can faintly make out light above him, but anything further than that is indistinguishable.

He licks at his lips, chapped and dry, before clearing his throat, trying to get past the fog.

"What happened?"

Nobody speaks.

Dr. Martin clears his throat.

"You had a pretty nasty car accident- knocked your head real hard."

That explains why Max feels like he just got hit by a truck. It doesn't explain the vision thing though.

"Why can't I see?"

There's a broken noise to his right, and he thinks it might be GP again.

"Well, I was going to ask you about that. How much can you see?"

Max doesn't like how this conversation is going.

"The light."

There's a beat of silence, like everyone is waiting for him to elaborate, but that's all Max has. He has the light, and the not light. There's nothing else.

"Okay, just the light. Any distinction in the shadows?"

Max looks around again, trying to make anything out, but it's practically impossible. All the colors are muddled, barely even visible.

"Not really."

There's the sound of a keyboard clicking, and then Dr. Martin clears his throat again.

"We're hoping that's going to improve over time- but I'm also going to put you on some steroid shots, see if that helps some."

Max doesn't understand- they just need to take off whatever blinders they've put on him and it'll be fine. His eyes work great, they have to, his life would be over without them.

They can't be damaged. Max doesn't even remember crashing-

"I crashed?"

GP clears his throat, and when he speaks his voice is closer.

"In Baku. There was a collision with your rear wing- sent you straight into the wall. The car was destroyed, you didn't-"

His voice is wet, and he sounds choked up, so Max stretches his fingers out, wiggling them until GP's hand folds over his own.

"You weren't responding, they had to pull you out of the car."

The words make something uncomfortable spark in Max's gut, thinking about it. The blatant weakness it shows, that he couldn't even get out of the car after a crash- it's pathetic. He's going to be feeling shame about that for months.

"Who won?"

There's a soft snort, and then Christian's voice is closer to him when he speaks, another hand resting next to GP's.

"They didn't restart, but the points went to Leclerc."

Oh god, Charles. Max hopes he's doing okay- though he wouldn't be surprised if Charles doesn't want to talk him now, after Max has completely ruined a possible race win for him.

"No restart?"

He's surprised, because the FIA is generally pretty strict about finishing races- unless the track damage is too severe to repair, or potentially a serious driver injury.

Christian's hand squeezes.

"No, it was- the debris was everywhere, Max. The McLaren caught fire, jumped to your car- or what was left, and you didn't wake up, you had to be pulled out and airlifted. The damage to the walls and the barriers- the teams talked it over, we didn't want to continue."

GP snorts, a harsh noise in contrast to Christian's softer tone.

"You mean we all thought he was dead."

"Gianpiero."

"It's true. Norris had a meltdown, Leclerc refused to get back in the car- it freaked everyone out, and we had no idea-"

"Gianpiero."

Christian's voice is snappy, and Max squeezes GP's fingers again. He's okay. Probably.

Alive, at least.

"He doesn't need to know all that right now."

Max clears his throat again.

"Is Lando okay?"

GP squeezes back.

"He's got some burns on his hands, from when he was trying to get to you, but they'll heal."

Max doesn't remember any of it.

Dr. Martin comes back in the room, wanting to do more testing, and Max gets lost trying to keep up with the words and the terms, closes his eyes and lets GP handle it.

------

"Leclerc! If you don't open this fucking door I'm breaking it down!"

Daniel lets his first bang into the wood again, before there's hurried footsteps, and then Charles is yanking him inside by his shirt collar, slamming the door behind him.

"What."

It's practically hissed at him, and Charles looks terrible. There's deep bags under his eyes, his hair is greasy, and his skin is pale. He looks like he hasn't slept in days- probably hasn't.

"You need to pull yourself together."

It's been a minute since Daniel did this, but- Charles needs support. Needs someone to kick his ass back into place, to help get him back on his feet.

Daniel did it for Max. He can do it for Charles.

Charles is scowling at him. He needs to shave.

"C'mon- you're going to go shower, and I'm going to clean up the apartment, and then we're going to talk about Max."

Charles visibly flinches, shrinking back from him, which is- it's not good. It's also what Daniel was expecting.

"Yes, Max, your boyfriend who is currently in the hospital. If he didn't have Redbull with him I'd be more pissed at you, but..."

Daniel takes in Charles again. He really does look terrible.

"Yeah. Let's turn you back into a human person first. Can you wash your own hair or do I need to come in and do it for you?"

Charles' frown deepens as he takes a step back.

"You do not need to do anything- I don't know why you're here. You should be with Max. In the hospital."

Daniel raises an eyebrow at him.

"Max has a lot of people looking after him right now. I'm here to look after you."

Charles scrunches his face, but there's no fight in him- he just lets his shoulders slump back down before walking off down the hallway.

"I can wash my own hair."

Daniel nods to himself, and he waits until he hears the shower turn on before he starts moving through the flat, throwing away trash.

He changes the sheets on the bed, starts scrubbing dishes, straightening up the living room- all little things Charles has been neglecting.

Daniel wants to be in the hospital, because Christian and GP are both being a locked vault about how Max is doing- he's alive, and that's about all they know- but he's here instead, because it's what Max would want, to know someone is taking care of Charles.

That, and Daniel had a friend once. A boy his age, with a beautiful smile and a soft voice, a French boy he would've died for, a boy that loved Charles- a boy that made Daniel promise to look after him.

His heart still aches to think about him. Daniel straightens his photo carefully on the wall, but he still can't meet his eyes.

He's here. He's here to take care of Charles, to pick up the pieces of the wreckage Max's accident is leaving behind. It's enough.

It has to be.

------

"He's going to break up with me."

Charles is poking at his dinner. It's mostly untouched- his appetite has been a fickle thing, these last few weeks. He refuses to see Max, refuses to talk about it- he just shuts down, goes quiet until Daniel backs off.

It's a work in progress, the same way working out is in progress, and Charles is still racing, but the spark is hard to find.

Daniel has taken up a semi permanent residence on the couch, because otherwise Charles will slip backwards, shut everyone out and isolate himself.

This is the first time Charles is even hinting about talking about Max. Daniel needs to be careful here.

"Why do you think that?"

Charles shoots him an incredulous stare, like he thinks Daniel is stupid.

"Are you stupid?"

Point, Daniel.

"I have not gone to see him, I have not spoken about him, I am acting like he died when I know he did not-"

Daniel leans back in his chair, crosses his ankles together. His foot taps against Charles' under the table.

"And why have you been doing that?"

Charles stabs his fork down.

"Because I thought he was, and this makes me an awful person, and a worse boyfriend, but Daniel- he might as well be? He cannot race, he cannot see- you know as well as I do what that is going to do to him. The Max I knew, my Max, he is gone, and I-"

Charles squeezes his eyes, teardrops falling into his plate.

"I am afraid to see what is left behind."

Credit where credit is due- Charles has said what they're all quietly thinking. They have no idea what kind of person is left, when the racing is gone. When Max's entire world has changed.

He's been in the UK for about a month and half since the accident, trying treatments for his eyes and doing PT for everything else. He's legally blind, and GP has taken a surprisingly involved role in helping him adjust.

Last Daniel heard, his eyesight has improved some- he's not completely in the dark- but it's still terrible, and he has episodes of debilitating vertigo.

Daniel's not entirely sure if he'll even be able to drive a road car again. His career as an athlete is over.

He reaches out, resting his fingers on top of Charles' hand.

"If that's what you need to do, then that's what you need to do- but Charles, I think you should see him first."

Charles laughs.

"I am a terrible person either way, Daniel. Even if I do go see him, what am I supposed to do? If he is not the Max I knew..."

"Don't feel like you have to stay out of obligation, Charles. But don't be a shitty person either. You can't make these kinds of decisions until you actually go talk to him."

Charles bows his head, fringe brushing across his forehead.

"I know."

------

Daniel swings his legs out of the car, letting the door shut behind him. There's a bit of a chill, and the grass is dewy underneath his shoes. He loves visiting the Netherlands, especially when he comes to see Max.

There's a dense layer of fog, and he has to squint to see the side of the school building, following around the corners until he hears the excited screeching of the kiddos on the football pitch.

Max is crouched near the goal, ruffling the hair of one of the kids, and Daniel doesn't think he'll ever be over how cute they all are, in their little football uniforms.

Max is in a sweatshirt and shorts, but he straightens up when Daniel makes his way over, face splitting into a grin.

"Danny! I did not think you were coming!"

"Danny!"

The kids have realized he's here, and Daniel doesn't even try and fight his laugh as he's piled onto by tiny children, all trying to give him hugs and tell him about their day, blame each other for the fouls Max has been calling them on during practice.

He grins at Max, who carefully makes his way over. His glasses sit low on his nose, but he looks like he's doing well today.

"How is your tiny team of world champions doing?"

Max's eyes crinkle at the corners.

"They are of course dominating- at the snack table."

There's a few small shrieks of outrage, and then Max is being yelled at in Dutch by a child that maybe comes up to his hip.

He responds with what Daniel assumes is a soft reprimand, though he pats the kid on the head right after, so he's not entirely sure.

"How is Charles?"

Max makes a so-so motion with his hand.

"Here and then gone. You know how it is, with the race schedule."

Daniel is glad to hear they're doing okay. It's been a rough few years, punctuated with self loathing breakups from both of them, and there's been a lot of emotional interventions for everyone involved. Daniel has spent a lot of time with Charles in Monaco- the time of the year around when Max had his accident leaves him on a hair trigger.

Things have smoothed out in the past year, thankfully. Charles stays with Max at his Netherlands flat when he's on break, and otherwise he's in Monaco, where they can all keep an eye on him.

Max has cultivated a close friendship with other teachers at the school, spends his free time at the nearby animal shelter. He visits GP several times a year, and he goes to see Christian and Adrian as well. He keeps in touch with the rest of the grid, but he's not one for the glitz and glamour of their lives anymore- the flashing lights give him a headache, and he's much more susceptible to vertigo when he's on the water.

They have to come visit Max, if they want to see him.

His flat occasionally has a rotating door of rookies- the younger drivers appreciate having a sympathetic ear, even if Max is equally as likely to make fun of them as he is to give genuine advice.

Max gestures all the kids back inside, voice fond even if Daniel doesn't understand the words. He walks around the side of the pitch before wrapping Daniel in a hug, head tucked into his shoulder.

Daniel holds him steady against him. Sometimes it hits him at random, how lucky he is that they still have Max at all. How easily it could have become something else, something worse.

The helmets and neck braces have updated designs, better support for the head and neck. Daniel hates it the way he hates the halo, the way they always have to lose something, lose someone, before things get better.

He tucks his face into Max's hair, swaying them for a moment.

"What's your plans for the week?"

Max hums.

"Mick is coming over on Wednesday for dinner. Charles flies back Friday night, if you would like to stay and see him."

Daniel huffs a soft laugh.

"I see him plenty back in Monaco."

"Don't make me jealous- of either of you."

He hides his grin in Max's hair, squeezes him for a moment, before pulling back, really assessing him.

"How are your eyes?"

Max makes a face.

"I have had better days. They are not so bad right now, but this week has of course felt very long, and I have not had much luck in the mornings. And it is getting colder also, so my ankle has been hurting."

Daniel nods, tries to ignore the soft pang in his heart he gets every time Max talks about it. Fierce, loyal Max. He's had multiple surgeries for his ankle, two for his eyes. He still walks with a slight limp when the weather changes.

He is still Max.

"I'll stay until Friday. In the meantime-"

He pulls Max back into an exaggerated hug, really pushes the limit until Max makes a mock gagging noise and shoves him away.

"I'll head back to your place, make sure it's warm and all that. You still have the heating pad?"

Max rolls his eyes, but he nods.

"That is a good plan. I have some things to finish up with the kids, and then I will be back."

Daniel watches him walk back inside- the way he sometimes brushes a hand against the wall for balance, the way he steps gingerly on the steps to go into the building.

He wishes he could take the pain away- but Max is Max, wants to live and work and have something to do. Granted, teacher is not what any of them had expected, but it's somehow still fitting.

He makes his way back across the pitch, to where his car is parked. He'll get the apartment set up the way Max likes but won't admit- candles and blankets, heating pad for his ankle- and that way when Charles gets back on Friday he won't be as worried.

Charles spends most of his time worried. He worries that Max isn't taking care of himself, that something has happened. He has panic attacks when they race in Baku, shuts down when there's a bad accident. He's on his way to a third WDC, but Daniel senses a retirement on the horizon.

He gets worried about Max and goes online, orders things to Max's address while he's at the school, which is how Max has ended up with the heating pads. He'll never admit that they help, but Daniel has seen it, the way the tension eases from his leg, the way he relaxes.

Max won't use them on his own, and Charles worries too much when he's gone, so if Daniel can alleviate that some- help Max take better care of himself before Charles flies back- it's really for his own peace of mind.

The two of them will be alright, eventually.

Daniel will make sure of it.

[theocddiaries]

Sonic: Why isn’t this kid calling me??? I told him to call me when he got there. Shadow: He just left. Sonic: Half an hour ago. Shadow: Time flies when you’re having fun. If you’re that worried, call him yourself. Sonic: No, he’ll think I don’t trust him. Shadow: Because you’re not trusting him. Sonic: No, I just don’t trust the people he might run into. Shadow: Yes, Gaia forbids he runs into Cream and her mother and their scary army of pies. Are you listening to yourself? [Shadow’s phone rings] Sonic: Is it him?? Shadow: Uh… no, it’s Rouge. Who knows what she could want. [picks up and goes to his room]: Tails, why are you calling me? Tails: Hello, um… Don’t tell Sonic, but I didn’t go to the movies. I went to a party and… well… Can you come pick me up, please? Shadow: You’ve got to be kidding me. [pinches the bridge of his nose]: I’m on my way. Send me your location and don’t move from the entrance of wherever the hell you are. [hangs up and goes to the living room]: Sonic, I have to go to Rouge’s place for a moment to fix something. Be right back. [leaves] Sonic: … Fantastic. They can’t even agree on what channel to watch on TV, but when it comes to lying to my face, they’re a team. [gets up and leaves the house to follow him]: I’m gonna cause such a scene in the middle of the street we’ll go viral for the whole year!! [Walking back home] Shadow: I'm extremely disappointed. I backed you up about you being mature and responsible even before you started high school. Did I do it to see if he’d cut the umbilical cord and get you off my hair? Yes, absolutely. But also because I believed you were. Tails [sniffs]: I know, I’m an idiot. I bit more than I could chew, and now not only did I embarrass myself in front of my classmates, but Sonic’s gonna be super mad at me, and I’ve made you look bad too. I’m so sorry. Shadow: … Are you feeling any better? Do you want to stop? Tails: No, it’s okay. Shadow: Why do you say you embarrassed yourself? Want to tell me what happened? Tails: I wasn’t actually invited. It was a joke, and I didn’t get it. Shadow: I’m not getting it either. [sighs]: Okay, wait. Do you understand why I’m mad? Tails: Because I made you look like a liar. Shadow: No, because if Sonic and I don’t know where you are, we can’t come help you or keep an eye out in case something happens. Even though we know you can handle yourself, we still worry. Do you understand that? Tails: Yeah. Shadow: Okay. Do you want to go to the movies alone, or do you want me to go with you? Tails: …We’re not going home? Shadow: No, I think you’ve learnt your lesson. Now, do I come with you, or do you prefer to be alone? Tails: …Come with me, please. Shadow: Okay. Tails: Are you going to lie to Sonic? Shadow: Yes. And so are you. As soon as I leave, you call him and say you forgot to call him until you went to silence your phone, or whatever you can come up with that you know he’ll believe so he calms down. And once you’re inside, send me a message, okay? Tails: Okay. Shadow: And don’t beat yourself up about your classmates. Their loss. You’ll find your crowd, take it from me. Tails: Thanks, Shadow. You know, I’m glad I have you as an older brother too. Shadow: Hm. [After dropping Tails off at the movies, Shadow comes back home. Sonic is sitting on the couch.] Sonic: Hi. Shadow: Hello. Did the kid call you? Sonic: Yup. Everything okay with Rouge? Shadow: Yes. Sonic: Hm. And what did she need? Couldn’t decide on a movie? As I saw you at the movie theatre with Tails earlier. Shadow: … Sonic, look— Sonic [gets up to hug him]: Thank you for being there for him. Shadow: Hm…

[shadamyheadcanons]

@shadowsfascination showed me this post from the Writing-prompt-s blog:

“Some say that an invisible red string is tied around the fingers of soulmates meant to be together forever. As it turns out, you can see these red strings, and have therefore created a highly successful matchmaking business.”

It gave me two brief ideas. The first one is a little more angsty and strictly involves Amy, while the second is fluffy and Shadamy-centric. They both have happy endings, though.

Angsty version:

Amy learns very early on about her gift, as it’s rare but not unheard of. She’s precocious about it; when she’s five, she’s prone to doing things like seeing happy couples with unconnected strings and bluntly saying, “You’re bad for each other.” Naturally, Amy’s mother is mortified by this behavior and urges her to stop doing it.

At first, this seems like a normal reaction...until one night at dinner when Amy asks, “Mom, Dad, why aren’t your strings attached? Mom is attached to the mailman instead.”

That’s how the truth comes out that her mom is cheating on her dad, which leads to their divorce. Amy blames herself, and her parents don’t do a very good job of convincing her otherwise. The resentment’s there, and she can tell. From then on, she resolves never to share her gift–her curse–with anyone for fear of ruining something else.

This continues until she hears two good friends of hers talking. One is trying to defend her clearly abusive partner, saying he’s “not always like that,” he’s “usually very sweet,” etc. And Amy just can’t hold it in any longer. She blurts out that they’re not meant to be together. The one she belongs with is the best friend who brought her in, the man who’s holding her as she’s speaking. Everyone’s silent for a moment, and Amy immediately regrets it...until six months later, when the two are dating and thank her for stepping in.

Amy embraces her gift at last and uses it to help others, becoming a matchmaker and relationship therapist. However, she spends just as much time “matchbreaking,” carefully working to break up couples who are bad for each other. She learns that sometimes, the best way to spread love is by ending ties that pull in the wrong direction, like pruning a plant of old leaves to allow new ones to thrive. It’s hard sometimes, but there’s no one who’s better at it.

Her mother never makes amends, but her father apologizes profusely for how he treated her when she was younger and introduces her to her new stepmom, thanking her for giving him the opportunity to meet her.

--

Now, the happier option:

Amy can see the strings tying people to their soulmates. Aside from aromantics like Sonic, who have little knots/bows on their fingers to show they’re complete on their own, everyone has a string...except for Amy herself. Hurt but determined, she decides to start a matchmaking business to spread love around the world in her own way, even if she can’t be a part of it.

Then, she meets Shadow, the only other person she’s met without a string. He brushes off her concern, as he doesn’t put stock in the concept and has reluctantly resigned himself to being a “dead end,” but Amy insists on trying to match him up with his soulmate all the same, as she feels everyone who wants a soulmate must have one. She finds it’s not so easy without the cheat sheet she’s had all her life. While getting to know Shadow and considering all the wonderful things he could offer as a partner, she can’t help but fall for him herself. Likewise, Shadow sees all the care and effort she’s put into bringing him happiness and fulfillment, the passion and devotion no one else could ever match. He doesn’t stand a chance, either. Amy takes the plunge and gets together with him even without that divine confirmation.

The truth of the matter, one that Shadow suspects, is that someone with the gift simply can’t see their own string, but Amy doesn’t need that validation to know she belongs with him.

[seffen]

It's been a long time since they've been here.In fact, I've been cold to them for a long time. But recently, at my leisure, I decided to remember them, it was nice.

It's been a long time and I've been able to rethink a lot of the stories, but the main points in the story remain, and I'd like to tell them. But I strongly doubt that I have the patience to draw it all.

Shamura is still one of my favorites. I wanted to make him the most controversial character. I drew his image when there was still no crown on his head.

I remember Shawmura saying he caught his crown in a net, this prompted me to headcanon that his crown was not meant for him. I've had this headcanon for a very long time, and in the early artwork you can see that Shawarma uses a regular spear and doesn't use the crown due to the fact that he couldn't quite curb it. But it's worth saying that later on he was able to curb it like no mortal would be able to. I can say that Sharuma had very high self-esteem when he was young.

Callamar, I think he's getting unduly neglected. And I don't like that he's portrayed solely as a coward. I like that he can be very cunning and very self-loving. And I wanted to revisit one point in his story. I wrote earlier that he was relatively at ease with the role of a mortal, but now I think that's not true. To explain, Kallamar as well as Leshy and Narinder were gods from childhood, from early childhood, because of this their adaptation was the most difficult and one could say unbearable. Imagine being on top all your life and losing everything in one moment, it's very difficult and the only happy moment is that Kallamar is alive.

And I can also see that Kallamar has various hobbies that would seem strange or creepy to many people and all of them would be about bodies and their insides. Given that Kallamar personified disease he had a lot of medical knowledge, simply because his region was the most commonly affected by it, and because Kallamar was very hard to please as a god. But we should not forget that he was primarily a god of disease, not medicine. Under him, in general, it is better not to bring up these topics at all or risk repeating the experience of Tom Cardy's poor guy from Red Flags.

I love Hekat. I share those who see her as strong, independent and very responsible. The way in the game itself she was ahead of all her brothers as if taking everything upon herself after Shamura received the head grass. Also, according to her headcanon, she received her crown like Sharuma already at a conscious age and she managed to live in the settlement and was a loyal follower. This experience, as for me, made her more down to earth, even though her character was hot-tempered.

If we talk about her life before the crown, then even before that Hecate was a respected woman. She was one of the students, and her word was very important. Because of this, she was also very popular among men, although none of her marriages were successful, and not because of bad relationships. Those years were very difficult times for the gods and this also affected the followers. You can say that there were difficulties with survival.

Now, you could say she is on a well-deserved vacation, although at first she helped her brothers adapt for some time, but still, despite how difficult it was for them, they are no longer children and she is tired of dragging them by the hand everywhere.

Well, and Leshy, the youngest. I can't say anything new. Those who have seen it before know that in my universe he has a daughter from a yellow cat. I would like to devote more time to his spouse. Something that I would also rewrite and change my mind a bunch of times. He is definitely not as simple as he seems. I had an idea with a breakup, but it is too large-scale and I repeat that I am not sure that I can implement it. I can say that the cat is not local and has not lived in the lands of the ancient faith for most of his life, he came from distant islands that are his native home. The main reason why he swam away from Tula is that he is wanted there and if he is caught, he faces capital punishment.

I guess that's all for now. I would write more, but there's already a lot of text here.

And there is no Narinder here. I just didn't want to draw him, maybe next time.

[kunigamiau]

“ harvey, nobody knows what I see. ”

ryusei shidou x reader

highschool au.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⋆˚꩜｡⟢ ˎˊ˗

— ❤︎ —

—

you were never a fan of moving away, far too attached to every house you had the chance of living in, to the memories it brought and most importantly to the people you met. that’s what you learned to realise each time you moved away, you weren’t stupid, even as a child you had realised your weaknesses and made sure to never let yourself truly go because everything was temporary.

at least it was until you met him. the blonde haired peculiar boy at the school you were attending. In your younger years you wanted nothing to do with him. you were opposites after all. He was loud, eccentric and boisterous, you were quiet, reserved and contemplate. well until you had no choice but to.

The first interaction between you was when you were peacefully trying to read your book on the bleachers on a warm summer day, basking in the soft rays of the sun. it was going well until- you promptly woke up with a ball straight to your face, knocking the air out of you as you slightly jerked back. The gasps around you made it all the more embarrassing, your friends were nowhere around you and hearing everyone else either holding back laughs while others were still shockingly watching could do nothing but make you want to crawl inside a hole and never come back out. and that was when he approached you, it was silly but the one thing you remember is how he tripped running over to the bleachers.

“ Shoot, I am sorry ? ” The way his tone was unsure made you look at him with a bewildered but honestly speaking, amused look. After a few more seconds of the seemingly on going staring contest you had going on with him you couldn’t help but let your lips curve upright, a giggle erupting from your mouth, making the equally bewildered boy look at you in a daze, not sure of what to do. let’s just say in that moment two souls tied to one another, because from that day on you were inseparable.

school bleacher conversations were your thing now, whether it would be that you came to watch him practice or you would spend time together revising after school, enjoying the summer time, it was a habit that neither of you denied once it started. bike rides home were idle. you watched the sunset on the back of ryusei’s bike as he talked your ear off about another one of his shenanigans or arguments he had at his football practice despite you being there; he deemed it necessary that you understood his side of the story so those ‘wannabe pretty boys’ as he calls them, don’t try to sweep you off your feet by painting him out to be the bad guy one of these days. to which you would just roll your eyes at and continue listening to him with no sign of refusal.

time with shidou passed faster than you imagined, to the point where you only realised how bad your resolve had broken when your parents gave you the impending news.

moving away. again. except this time you weren’t as neutral. you had finally met someone you wanted to have around, someone who made your life better even without knowing. so like any other naive child you had straight up denied. you didn’t want to move, you wouldn’t move ( it didn’t work. ) So in your antsy frenzy, that night you had made sure to give something to your best friend that wouldn’t let him ever forget about you.

“ What's that ? ” the blonde asked with a curious glint in his eyes as he cotninued to snack on the sweet poki sticks. you replied by looking down, giving him the news. to which he took better than you expected, except from the pout adorning his face now. "Dumbass, why were you nervous to tell me ? ” you simply looked at him huffing “ well ryu’ you don’t exactly- ” but you don’t get to finish your sentence as he pats your head suddenly, “ and why would you think.. I would forget you.” he mumbles the last part more quietly, looking down at his lap with a conflicted look. hearing that, you couldn’t help the smile painting your face as you took his hand putting the morganite, handmade bracelet into his palm. the boy simply looks down at the sudden coldness he felt before immediately doubling down analysing the bracelet. “ I made it ! ” you exclaim proudly, showing off your wrist which had a matching one on. seeing that, he couldn’t help the blush coat his cheeks as he immediately put it on himself. “ ryu.. are your cheeks red right now ? “ you say in a teasing tone that easily gets shut down by him pulling you in a headlock ruffling your hair to which you can only squeal at, giggling as silly bickering erupts from both of your mouths.

That was a very long time ago, now at the prime age of seventeen you’re preparing for yet another new high school, in your third year. it sucked that you had to move in your final year but you reminded yourself that it isn’t something you hadn’t grown accustomed to. In the time of growing up you had met, adored and left a lot of people, yet the one that stuck to you the most was your one and only childhood best friend. moving in and out of Japan had you going insane, and as much as you wanted to keep in contact with everyone, you couldn’t manage it and gave up early on. shidou being no exception of that, which you greatly regretted. Each step you took on the strangely empty Tokyo streets towards your brand new school had you feeling nervous, it was like first grade all over again, every single time. you just couldn’t help the nervous feeling in your heart, especially since you are a third year at a new school, which is not a bad thing, just rare and attention inducing. you dreaded how the day would unfold immediately as you see the huge gates with the name in bold blue writing.

to your surprise your classes were not half as bad as you thought they would, homeroom was simple. you were glad third years here weren’t as curious and judgemental as you imagined. As you walked in, you were immediately greeted by a teacher who led you to the office. There you met your classmate and the student council president, Isagi Yoichi, who was nice enough to take you to your shared homeroom and even let you meet his friends later on after introducing yourself to the new class. now you were currently facing a predicament, due to you starting in the second week; you weren’t able to pick a club so now you, isagi, his best friends bachira, kurona and hiori whom were all your classmates were trying to figure out what club you could join. since it is mandatory. “ What if she joins as our manager ? I mean we don’t have one and it wouldn’t hurt. ” hiori says, trying to improve the defeated mood of the group. “ manager ? “ You say curiously, eyes focused on him, turning to bachira as he exclaims happily “ yea ! we’re all in the football team, isn’t that super duper fun !? ”

he says while putting his arms around the three other boys who just groan in response to his hyper behaviour. "You know what ? That doesn’t sound all too bad. “ you say with a hum as you noted down ‘football team manager’ on your notepad as one of your ideas. “ That's great ! then you can just come now since practice is about to end for the others ! ” yet again, bachira shouts joyfully, this time around getting up and joining your side immediately pulling you up to which you yelp to the sudden force as he just continues giggling pulling you over, leaving the other three boys just looking at each other before sighing and following along you and bachira. It seemed like a great idea before, amazing even but as you’re standing in front of the gym which was booming with noise you could only mentally curse for agreeing, crowds were not your thing; yet these days it’s all you’re a part of. “ It's fine ! Our team isn’t bad ! Even if some people are a bit questionable, they’re alright. “ isagi says, trying to reassure you despite only sparking your nerves more. as you take a step forward towards the door having mentally prepared yourself you immediately open the door while speaking to the four boys,

“ you’re right ! what could go so wrong aha. "

But as if the universe was watching you, ready to prove you wrong and you opened the door a ball is immediately in contact with your face. hard. groaning at the impact you immediately shut your eyes gripping your nose which you were sure was bleeding with how painful the hit felt ( it was not ! ). gasps immediately surround you as you are approached by isagi and bachira from behind you along with kurona and hiori who just look concerned. but before they can even speak, sudden steps approach you, slightly leaning down to your height,

“ Shoot, are ya’ okay ? ” and as if the interaction couldn’t get any weirder a sense of deja vu takes over you as you immediately look at the figure facing you with wide eyes. “ ryu? ” you mumble, shock taking over your senses as the pain you had just faced dilated. you notice his blonde spiky hair, with hot pink tips adorning it, the sharp eyeliner that complimented him even more, along with his freakish height, he had always been taller than you but now the difference seemed even more dramatic. shidou stares at you for a little while longer before finally putting the pieces together and calling out to you, “ n/n ? ” he mumbles, and it truly felt like the world had reduced to only you two as you stare into his eyes with a soft look, tears brimming slightly in your orbs as he immediately takes a hold of your shoulders hugging you tightly. you immediately hug him back, ignoring the awkward atmosphere that was created by your emotional reunion. you didn’t care. what matters most is you had met your best friend all over again, and you weren’t going to let him go again. The other guys could only stare in slight amusement and shock, seeing shidou’s usual fiery, rude, and unpredictable persona immediately crumble down with you was surely a sight to behold.

And with a promise of a hangout date, you were sent back out as the boys were told to go change. to which you were immediately bombarded with questions from your new classmates and few members of the team, “ so you and shidou are dating ? ” bachira asks innocently for the nth time. “ no you idiot," she clearly said that her and antenna freak were childhood best friends. If you had listened-” the two toned hair only booped the black haired male whom you had learnt his name was itoshi rin who only irked at bachira’s touch immediately chasing after him as they ran away from the rest of the group. “ Gotts to say.. you and Shidou are an interesting match. ” hiori says, his accent seeping through slightly, which you found endearing. “ Tell me about it. “ you reply with a sigh, a lazy smile playing on your lips

“ so, that’s y/n huh ? " the red head spoke up to the blonde as he was putting his jacket on. shidou could only mumble a ‘yes’ followed by a nod, looking down at the bracelet on his wrist. "She seems nice enough, treat her well. " sae adds with an amused smirk on his face. The blonde would be on cloud nine at the interaction with the male right now, however he could only smile before replying in the same soft-spoken tone he had welcomed you with.

"Of course I will. ”

𓏵˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

— songs I associated with this •.• !

- harvey, her’s

- over the moon, the marías

- impacto, enjambre

- you might be sleeping, clairo + jakob

- asa, the circus

- sesame syrup, cigarettes after sex

- every summertime - niki

[jaybejaybeyes]

Thanks for your response! I just want to clarify a few points.

Why should he grieve Salo’s death?

A year passed between acts 1 and 2, and even if Salo didn’t join Viktor’s commune right away, I think he was there for a couple of months. And leaving didn’t seem like an option (I’ll get back to that). If Viktor truly saw the commune members as people worthy of respect, it’s only natural to assume he would’ve formed some kind of bond with them — especially as their leader, living alongside them all that time. Or did he deliberately keep his distance, never engaging, while they unquestioningly existed around him? That’s a rhetorical question — canon doesn’t answer it, and I don’t expect you to either. But if that’s the implication, it only makes things more unsettling.

Now, about leaving not being an option — based on Salo’s unusual behaviour, I’d argue that Viktor’s healing process altered more than just people’s bodies. It also changed their personalities. That’s why, IMO, none of them ever had a choice to leave after the transformation. And that’s the point I’ve been making — both here and in my original post. Viktor never saw the commune members as individuals. But not in a “they’re my lab rats” way. More like a “they’re my fish and I gladly take care of the fish tank” way.

Nope, you are definitely wrong.

I think the key misunderstanding here is the idea that having good intentions and being a control freak consumed by fear and delusion are mutually exclusive. They’re not. I never said that Viktor consciously thought this way. His fears are simply his blind spot. Yes, he genuinely wants to help people, but he also fails to recognise his deeper motivations.

That’s why he ends up not just healing them, but altering their appearances, possibly their personalities, and making them entirely dependent on him. Whether or not he meant to, he severed them from their past lives and gave them new ones, all based on his vision of what’s good, while seeing no issue with it. Sure, in his mind, he’s pursuing a goal that is undeniably noble: making the world a better place. But that exact mindset, coupled with his failure to recognise his blind spots, is what leads to the final battle. That’s what makes Viktor’s symbiosis with Hexcore so dangerous.

That said, none of that makes him an evil mastermind bent on ruling the world. He’s a flawed human who makes mistakes, and he just happened to wield a power that could reshape human souls. I think Viktor is a great example of how even the best and most genuine intentions can end up causing a lot of harm.

The theory that he was mind-controlled by Arcane is interesting and valid, and I agree that Arcane played a role in his changes. But I don’t think that’s the whole story. Viktor was always a complex character with both good and bad traits, and I believe Arcane’s corruption did no more than amplify some of them while dulling others. I don’t see why the fear of losing control would be OOC for him. People can fall into extremes, and Viktor’s extreme (regardless of his connection to Arcane) was the belief that peace could only be achieved by eliminating any potential source of conflict in people — including their literal free will — and imposing that belief on everybody around. Personally, I like to view his arc as his response to the trauma of dying in the bombing rather than his possession by Arcane. But that’s just me.

Oh, that is interesting. Did suddenly "the end justify the means" or becomes murder a great deed, if the right character is killed?

And I feel like I should address this as well. First, with all due respect, I’d appreciate it if we could avoid passive-aggressive language. Second, no, I never said Jayce did a great thing by killing Salo (though one could argue that by then, Salo was already dead — overtaken by Viktor — and was essentially just a robot).

What I did say is that I was surprised by how people reacted as if Jayce had destroyed something pure and sacred when he killed Viktor, because I found the commune suspicious from the start and assumed Jayce had a deeper insight into what was really going on. And as we saw later, Jayce did see the commune as the lifeless constructs Viktor was turning them into. But remember, except for Salo, Jayce didn’t touch any other commune member. His goal was to prevent the world from becoming the nightmare he saw in the parallel reality — in other words, to stop Viktor. And stopping Viktor was exactly what he did.

Viktor’s commune always gave off creepy vibes, but for me, the path it was taking became crystal clear at the start of ep6. That first scene basically spells out the extent of Viktor’s corruption and how far his actions and mindset are from any kind of altruism.

Think about it: Viktor sees Jayce kill Salo through Salo’s eyes. He’s connected to Salo but doesn’t even try to comfort him, verbally or mentally, or ease his pain with magic in his final moments. He just stands there, watching. Waiting for Salo to die, staring at Jayce. The only time he flinches is when Jayce lunges forward, and Salo dies abruptly — his vision cuts to black.

And look at Viktor's face when it happens. That’s not horror. That’s not astonishment. That’s not grief. It’s… mild annoyance, I'd say?

Like, ugh. Jayce didn’t get it. He didn’t appreciate my work. And now he’s also destroyed one of my puppets. Sounds pretty frustrating, doesn't it, Viktor?

Then Sky says, “poor Salo”, and Viktor? Immediately pivots to, “That’s not Jayce. It’s another will at work within him”. And a moment later, he’s fascinated by the Anomaly. Salo’s gone, and no one spares him an extra thought.

And that’s the thing about Viktor’s commune — it was never about the people who joined it. It was never about understanding them, helping them, or connecting with them. It was all about Viktor’s desperate need to be in control, about his refusal to confront suffering, pain, and all the messy, complicated parts of being human. From the very beginning, it was about Viktor going, “well, the end justifies the means”, but there’s nothing kind or humanistic about that philosophy, because it always comes at the expense of people’s lives. The end never justifies the means.

And honestly, I was surprised to see how many people were mad at Jayce for blasting Viktor at the end of that episode. In my opinion, by then, it was quite clear that Viktor didn’t care much about his Arcane-modified toys. He wasn’t even pretending he did. Salo wasn’t a person to him. None of them were. They were just tools, stepping stones for his glorious evolution.

And all of that was right there in the first scene of ep6.