#possibly its good though maybe i SHOULD be cautious

[caraecethrae]

does anyone understand where ERL got their understanding of Ceirt??

[marlynnofmany]

Unlikely Tech Problems

I reported to the cargo bay for our next delivery, and found concerned faces. Captain Sunlight waited by the door, scaly browridges angled into a dignified frown, while Mimi gestured wildly with his tentacles. I’d expected Mur to come with us instead. Something was up.

Before I could ask, the captain waved me over. “The other ship’s communications appear to be down,” she said. “Additional problems are possible as well. Keep your nostrils open for trouble.”

“Right,” I said, choosing not to comment on the Heatseeker phrasing. “Do we know if they’re okay?”

“They should be,” she replied with one clawed finger pointed at the closed bay door, which blocked the view of a busy spaceport. “The crew member who exited their ship to wave us over didn’t look distressed. And Wio isn’t picking up any alert signals or other causes for alarm.”

Mimi rumbled, “But we’re cautiously alarmed anyway.” He made quite a contrast to the captain, with his voice so much rougher and his attitude grumpier than usual today. Plus all the tentacles. I wondered what he expected the problem to be. Or maybe he just wasn’t looking forward to being mechanic-for-hire as a favor for regular clients. Though I’m sure the captain would have given him a bonus for that.

“We are simply cautious,” said Captain Sunlight. “We’ll head out as soon as—”

Something hissed behind me.

“I hearrrr of thrrrreatening circumsssstanssses?” asked Trrili, sounding pleased.

I turned to see our largest and scariest crewmate doing her favorite thing: looming. Well, second favorite thing, after jumping out and startling people. It was probably good that she enjoyed being terrifying, because with an appearance that was a mix of praying mantis, black widow spider, and unholy nightmares, she was really good at it.

Captain Sunlight was unfazed. “Potentially threatening,” she corrected. “If you will kindly observe in case of problems, I would appreciate it.”

Trrili crouched lower and flexed her pincher arms. “Yesss.”

(Unnecessary hissing is her third favorite thing to do.)

“Right. They’ll be waiting.” The captain stepped forward and opened the bay door — with the airlock engaged. She really wasn’t taking any chances. I wondered if Wio was watching from the cockpit, ready to call the local authorities if need be.

Yeah, of course she was.

The first three of us cycled through the airlock, then waited on the tarmac while Trrili followed. The spaceport was a big one, with ships in all the nearby parking spots and people hustling to and fro. (They're more properly called berths or bays or something, but whatever; they're parking spots. Everybody there could land vertically, and the areas were sorted by ship size.)  I didn’t know which ship held the package we were meant to be picking up. Hopefully it was close.

By the time Trrili stepped out, the ship directly across from us had opened its own bay door, this one without any sort of airlock precautions. A snow-white Heatseeker trotted out and waved us forward. I was glad that the local weather was slightly overcast, since between those white scales and Captain Sunlight’s yellow, I would have been doing a lot of squinting on a bright day.

“Piercing Sunlight!” exclaimed the client. “Good to smell you.”

“Hello, Toothbone,” said the captain. “Always a pleasure. Is your comm system down?”

Toothbone swished her tail. “A precautionary measure. We had a bit of machinery repaired, and it came back with suspicious programming. We’re making sure it’s not malicious before connecting with any other ships, just to be sure.”

Captain Sunlight nodded while Trrili made a quiet hiss of disappointment. “Very sensible,” the captain said. “I trust this won’t affect the package you want us to deliver?”

“No, not at all. It’s a textile piece that one of our crew made on commission for someone on their home planet, no technology involved. Right this way.”

She led us up the ramp into their cargo bay, which had a lower ceiling than ours. Trrili and I both had to duck a little. The Heatseekers and Mimi didn’t notice.

Toothbone pointed out an awkwardly-shaped box that probably held an art frame as well as the promised cloth, and Captain Sunlight tactfully brought out the payment tablet.

Angry voices echoed down the hallway. Trrili perked up and edged forward; I stepped aside to let her while Mimi squashed down beside the package. Captain Sunlight glanced up but didn’t say anything. Toothbone just looked tired.

Since neither of them told her not to, Trrili opened the door and stuck her head out. Somebody shrieked. The sounds of the argument stopped.

“Isssss therrre a prrroblem?” Trrili purred.

“No — well yes, but not — who are you?” someone asked while other voices muttered in the background.

“Courrrierrr,” Trrili said.

“Thank you for your concern,” said an officious voice. “If you don’t mind—”

“Hey, is that a human?” asked another voice, and I saw brown eyes peeking around Trrili. “They’ll back me up! Hang on a sec. ‘Scuse me.”

Trrili stepped back as a slender human with dark skin and a wild-colored shirt skipped past. He hurried over to me. I braced for whatever conversation was about to happen.

“Hi,” he said earnestly. “Please tell me you’ve heard of the thing where people program old Earth games into unlikely bits of tech.”

“Sure!” I said. “My cousin put Doom in a hoverbike’s display screen once.”

“Yes!” He pointed at me and pumped a fist in the air, then turned back to the scaly faces in the hall. “You see?”

I connected the dots. “Did your repaired piece of tech come back with a game on it?”

He whirled, wild-eyed. “Yes! One of the repair guys is a buddy of mine, and he must have done it as a joke. I’ve been trying to explain it, but nobody believes me!”

“What tech is it?” I asked.

“Part of the medbay,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Somebody sprained their tail, and the medic went to scan it for breaks, then they ended up with a screen full of demons and gunfire.”

I tried not to laugh. “Is it actually Doom in your medbay??”

He dragged his hands over his face. “It’s Doom in the medbay.”

“That’s amazing!”

By this point the other Heatseekers had made their way in to join the conversation, and to be formally introduced. Things got a bit chaotic. But I confirmed for the alien crew that yes, this was a thing humans did sometimes, and no, it was not a threat to the ship. Alarming yes, but not any form of viral attack.

Trrili was a bit disappointed, but everyone else was relieved. Captain Sunlight managed to steer the conversation back to courier business.

The other human shook his head next to me. “I can’t believe my friend did that. Well no, I can believe it; this is definitely his sort of thing. But jeez.”

“You might consider sending him another old Earth tradition in return,” I suggested with a grin. “Possibly a max-volume rickroll?”

He grinned back. “I might. I might indeed.”

~~~

Inspired by this thread. Thanks for the idea, @sleepyowlet!

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[wosoamazing]

Allergic?

Summary: You're sick and Alexia thinks its an allergic reaction.

Warnings: Vomiting

A/N: Decided to give you this tonight, I will also be releasing a fic tomorrow morning (the requested fic).

You were sitting in your room doing your school work, when you decided to go out to Alexia and ask her for some medicine as you felt kind of sick. You had felt funny for most of the day, however it got worse as time went on.

“Ale, I don’t feel the best,” you said as you walked into the living room, noticing some of your teammates were over. 

They all looked over to you, “Do you want some medicine Bebita?” you nodded. “Come on, follow me, does anyone want a drink while I’m there?” Mapi nodded and followed you and Alexia into the kitchen. 

“What’s wrong?” “I feel kind of itchy, and my stomach kind of hurts.” you replied to her as you scratched your stomach, Alexia lifted up your shirt which caused her face to drop in sorrow. You looked down to see your stomach was covered in big red splotches, “I think you’re having an allergic reaction, I’ll get you an antihistamine and then you should have a shower and we can put cream on the hives. Mapi can you fill up Y/N/N’s water bottle? It should be in the drying rack.”

“Si,” Mapi replied as she reached for your water bottle.

As Mapi was filling up your water bottle and Alexia was sifting through the medicine drawer, your stomach started upheaving its contents, out of nowhere. Tears started to roll down your face as your stomach continued to violently eject its contents. Mapi had moved by your side and was rubbing your back trying to comfort you. 

Alexia wiped your mouth with a cloth before pulling you in for a hug, “Oh Bebita, we aren't in a good way are we.” You shook your head, as a small whimper came out of your mouth, causing Alexia to pull you in closer. 

It was something she had realised pretty early on, the fact that you wanted to be with someone as close as humanly possible when you were upset, unwell or injured. When you got your first sickness while living with her, what could barely be considered as a minor cold, you wanted to be with her constantly, she was worried that you were sicker than she thought, so she called Leah. Leah told her it was normal, and to expect it, she had explained to Alexia that you would choose specific people to be with when you were unwell, some much more preferably than others, and that it sounded like Alexia had become your Spanish Leah. It wasn't that you were weak, Alexia literally had to stop you from going to training when you had food poisoning from Ona’s cooking, she had to pull over on the way to training so you could throw up, and then you got mad at her when she turned around to go back home. You just enjoyed comfort, and the sicker you were the worse it got.

You walked into the bathroom with Alexia, who saw the stream of tears on your face increasing, pulling you into a hug before you gagged. “Okay Bebita, it's okay.” she said as she turned you around and shuffled you over slightly, so that you were in front of the toilet. You emptied more of your stomach contents into it, and Alexia constantly rubbed your back as you did, trying to provide you some form of reassurance and comfort.

“Oh Bebita, how about we get you into the shower and then you can lie down and maybe try to sleep, see if that helps.” “Will you stay with me?” you asked softly “Of course Bebita, does that sound good though?” you nodded, “Okay, I’m just going to grab some clothes for you, just stay here.” she rushes out and returns very quickly. She had Leah’s hoodie in hand along with a pair of Peter Alexander PJ shorts, they were the Australian Vegemite ones, a gift from Sam and Steph. She chose the hoodie as you always wore it when you were down, she also thought it would be a good option as it had been worn heaps so it was soft and also hadn’t been washed recently-ish, as she did not know what you had your allergic reaction too yet, so she was being cautious.

You stayed in your crop top and undies whilst you showered, Alexia didn’t want to leave you alone so she got you to keep them on, you were glad she stayed when you started throwing up again. Just after you stepped out of your shower, you collapsed down in front of the toilet, heaving more of your stomach contents into it, Alexia wrapped a towel around your body before rubbing your back. As your stomach continued to violently eject its contents your body began to shake, and hot tears pricked your eyes, she helped you up and changed, before directing you out of the bathroom and into her room, sitting your shaky body down on her bed and crouching down in front of you.

“Bebita, I’ve booked a doctors appointment for you for tomorrow, I’ll come with you and stay with you the whole time,” you nodded slightly, before the tears that had been threatening to fall for so long started to stream out and down your cheeks.  You felt really really sick, your body was shaking, your whole torso was itchy and hot, and your stomach was churning, “Let's go out to the living room, you can lie down on the couch, the girls are out there but I can get them to leave if you want,” you just shook your head.

Alexia walked you out to the living room, there was a spot on the couch already set up for you, with your pillows, some blankets, and your water bottle, it looked very inviting, so you laid down, Alexia continuously had a hand on your back as she directed you out to the living room, however you lost contact as you started lie down, seeing her leave.  “Stay?” you said weakly, Alexia was going to get you some ice packs for your torso to help but you were clearly very unwell and you needed her.

“Of course Bebita,” she said before sliding in behind you, her legs were stretched out in front of her, so you shuffled back towards her for more comfort, she put a hand on your upper arm and you closed your eyes, to see if you could fall asleep, hoping that you would feel better after you sleep.

 Her hand lifted off your upper arm and you let a small whimper at the loss of contact. “It’s okay, I’m just going to put an icepack on your back okay, it’s going to be cold, but hopefully it helps.” She placed the ice pack against your back, it felt cool and stopped the itching a bit, and Alexia saw your body relax slightly. She put her hand back on your upper arm, moving her thumb up and down to help comfort you, before she spoke “There is a bowl on the seat next to you if you need it, and I think you should sleep Bebita, it would help, I’ll stay here with you the whole time,” “Th-thanks” you said before drifting off to sleep.

_____

You woke up and it must’ve been much later, the girls had all gone, it was dark outside and Olga was sitting on the couch in front of you, you couldn’t feel Alexia behind you anymore and so you were confused.

“Ale,” “She’ll be right back Bebita, she was just going to the bathroom, do you need anything?” Olga responded to you, you didn’t say anything but sat up and shuffled closer to Olga, who realised what you were trying to do and opened her arm out for you. You decided to move and sit in her lap, she always had her legs crossed, so it made things easier. She welcomed this action and helped you into her lap before she wrapped both her arms around you, you leant against her with your head resting on her shoulder. 

“Are you feeling any better?” “I guess”

“Olga Babe, I think we should wake the Bebita up and-” Alexia was cut off as she walked into the living room seeing you awake sitting on Olga’s lap.

“Yes?” you ask her.

“Are you feeling better?” “Kind of” “I was thinking maybe we head up to bed, it's getting kind of late, do you want anything to eat Bebita? We didn’t wake you up when we had dinner as we thought you needed the rest." You just shakd your head, feeling nauseous at the thought of food.

You all head up stairs and get ready for the night, Alexia told you to sleep with them tonight so you crawled into the middle of their bed, falling asleep almost immediately, Alexia and Olga weren’t even in their PJs yet, they both sent you a sympathetic look.

_____

You woke up during the night and suddenly felt the need to be sick, you bolted upright, frantically looking around, with a hand over your mouth, Alexia was a very light sleeper and so she woke up from your movement, she grabbed the bucket and placed it front of you, before you started to gag, your body was shaking and your eyes were watering. You had been gagging for the past 10 minutes but nothing had come up, Alexia had continuously rubbed your back and whispered reassuring words to you. After you had finally stopped gagging,  Alexia sighed before she pulled you into her chest, lying back down, you laid into her, you felt so exhausted and so sick. A few minutes later you started to gag again, so you tried to sit back up and grab the bucket but Alexia’s wouldn’t loosen her grip on you. “Bebita, it’s okay, I don't think you can be sick, your stomach is empty. But if you are sick and it does get on me and the bed it’s okay, it’s nothing we can’t wash. Let's just try and get back to sleep.”

[nell0-0]

Could you possibly do a fic where the Chain meet Legend's cucco companion, Piyoko? I want to see their reactions to her :D

Sure thing! Sorry for the wait, but here it is ^^

Main characters: Legend, Four, Wild, Wind & Warriors (+Piyoko, of course!)

“Legend, don’t freak out, but don’t you dare move.”

…Not exactly the words one would like to hear first thing in the morning before coeherency made its appearance on his brain, but he would have to deal as usual, Legend figured. What went wrong now?

“…why” Legend said, voice thick with sleep and slightly slurred despite his best attempt.

Turning the other way and sleeping this problem away was so tempting. Problem he wasn’t aware of, mind you, because he could more or less glimpse everyone else around camp. Either sleepy, still snoring or staring at Legend with an intensity only deserved for a dangerous foe or-

“There’s a-“

Legend reached above his head, his hand colliding with something soft, a familiar texture greeting his cautious fingers.

“Wait, stop!”

“Goddesses, he’s doomed.”

“Legend, noooo!”

Grabbing whatever it was, a suspicious squeak as a result, Legend used his elbows to hold his weight while he looked at the cause of alarm for the three dumbasses in front of him.

“Pyo!”

…a cuccoo. Well, at least it wasn’t a tiny monster out for his blood. Even though that description adhered to cuccoos most days. Not to this one, chirping excitedly at seeing Legend’s messy face with dry drool still on the side of his mouth.

The others (just three of them, at least) had jumped back. He had expected the over the top reaction from the champion, who was wieling a soup ladle as if it was a weapon. Not so much from Wind who shouldn’t know what they were since he didn’t have them on his era and he hadn’t yet been attacked by an angry flock on this adventure. Definitely wasn’t expecting Four with a… cane? A magic cane.

A magic cane he hadn’t told Legend about. Darn it.

“Really, guys? First thing on the morning?”

“Why are you so calm about this?” Wind squinted at Legend, taking Wild’s soup ladle and poking at Legend’s face with the round edge. Wild shot Wind a betrayed look, who shrugged in response gesturing at Legend in a baffled manner.

Four’s eyes seemed to shimmer a myriad of colors, his face contorting awkwardly as if he couldn’t decide on whether he should laugh, get concerned or scold them all and go back to sleep.

“Guys, it’s okay, it’s just Piyoko.”

Holding the cuckoo, no longer the little chick she had been while on their adventures with Din’s troupe and the Nayru fiasco, Legend cooed. Wind poked at Legend again, bewildered. The look Piyoko threw the sailor was murderous, the poor kid backing off as if burnt and abandoning the wooden ladle to its uncertain fate. In retaliation, Wild flicked the kid on the forehead, quick to retrieve yet another soup ladle from his seemingly infinite supply on that slate of his.

Why soup ladles? Why not swords. Goddesses knew Wild never had enough of those with the rate he kept breaking them at.

Only Four seemed coherent enough to get them back on track from their usual shenanigans, despite being the less alert of the three.

“Piyoko?”

“Piyoko” Legend smirked. Four’s eyebrow twitched.

“And who’s Piyoko supposed to be? Aside from a cuccoo, I mean.”

“My cuccoo.” At the united front of three unimpressed heroes, Legend relented. “I’ve raised this mayhem bird from before she hatched from the egg.”

“What.”

How eloquent, Wind.

The commotion had seemed to catch Warriors’ attention. Or maybe he had been listening the whole time and Legend had just not noticed. Give him a break, he had just been rudely woken up without a good reason from his power nap after the second shift of the night watch. If he wanted to be grumpy or mad about that fact, he was well within his rights.

Either way, as usual, Legend thought while rolling his eyes out of habit, the war captain butted in the conversation.

“Is that a hero spirit thing, raising cuccoos?”

When Wild and Four shot him bewildered looks, probably questioning if Warriors also had a hidden cuccoo somewhere, Warriors was quick to deny it. Weird.

“If it is, then maybe that’s where Linkle gets it from.”

Legend stared at Wind uncomprehendingly. No way someone had named their daughter that, right? Right?

“Exactly my point.”

Okay, nevermind, apparently Linkle was a thing now, and both the captain and the sailor seemed to know her. How that was possible since, supposedly, none of them had met before this journey of nine heroes, was anyone’s guess. But neither asked about Ravio living in his house earlier that week, despite those two also impossibly knowing the scammer, so Legend wouldn’t ask about this either.

Four sighed, as if incredibly tired of this conversation already — Legend had been the one woken up, not Four, the nerve — he asked “and who’s Linkle?”

“My sister.”

Wild stared. “Your what.”

“You have a sister?”

“Not the point!” Warriors flushed, pointing at Legend. Trying to redirect the dumbass trio’s attention back to him, it seemed. That fucker. “Why are you asking me about my sister when Legend is still holding that cuccoo like nothing!”

Maybe if he was more awake, or if Legend wasn’t secretly elated that Piyoko had sneaked out to join him that day, he wouldn’t have said the next words. As it was, he was way too tired to care.

“To be fair” all eyes snapping in his direction, Legend grinned. “I threw Piyoko at Ganon.”

…

“Why did I never think of that.” Wild stared off at the morning sky, looking as if the world had opened new possibilities he hadn’t been aware of before. It was probably accurate, too.

Four just gaped at Legend, for once at a loss of words.

“She almost plucked an eye out. It was awesome.”

“Weaponized cuccoos.”

“Terrifying.” Wind may have said that, but the glint on his eye told another story.

Warriors took a step to the side, putting some distance between himself and the sailor, seemingly having an internal crisis.

Huffing, Legend dropped his weight on top of his bedroll again, Piyoko flapping her little wings before gently settling on top of his head. While the others woke up and those four got their shit together, Legend was sure he could manage to sleep another five minutes.

[kindaasrikal]

All of my thought on the possible Morro return and then some, in one long rant about characters, powers, relationships, and ages:

The Morro minifig and the possibility of Morro soon being a character in Dragons Rising means we will soon also get more lore on the Departed realm AND the Cursed realm.

Im hoping this will not only give us world building lore, but Morro scenes and lore, as well as a possible hint at the fact he and Garmadon hung out when they were both dead, and also a lot more dead characters like Soul Archer, Bansha, Wrayth, Howla, Ghoultar, and previously alice characters like the previous king and queen, dr Julien, maybe some old friends of the fsm too to get some lore on him and how Lloyd’s element might work.

If they show Dr Julien as a ghost i hope they introduce Echo Zane against as either his own character or as Mr E as well as an explanation on why he left him.

Morro coming back is actually so important when it comes to the story in regards to the two realms of the dead because not only is Morro likely to be the most knowledgeable about BOTH, but whatever the ninja will need or have to do is likely to end up in the cursed realm and they would need Morro to help them. Not to mention he’s also the only trustworthy ghost who would know all the information that they would need.

Using him can also help give more Euphrasia scenes and story and let us see her grow too.

Im scared as to how they might portray Morro, since before he was a brat, then he was strangely calm and sarcastic, but he’s also really strategic and smart in what he does and super talented, so i hope they don’t portray his character wrong. I think it really a huge 50/50 on it since its been ages since Morro’s last scene so it can’t be that bad but its kinda scary to think what might happen cause if they do mess up his character (no matter how limited it is) it would be really disappointing.

Morro would is also likely to be introduced in either a super over dramatic way, a sudden and hidden surprise kinda way, or the most stupidest way possible. Examples: Morro flying in and kicking ass as he saves the ninja or someone the ninja know which leads them having a conversation as to their situations where the ninja and co are super untrusting with Morro who lowkey understands but doesn’t wanna give a damn, Morro is introduced as a faceless/random character who no one knows and helps the ninja in their recent adventure until eventually something makes his reveal his identity, or Morro just kinda appears and follows along because being dead can be boring.

Genuinely though I’m so excited to see it all happen because Morro is such a great character with such a huge lack on information on him, and it would be a good way to help develop some characters and give characters who haven’t had a lot of attention to get some. Euphrasia can train with him and learn her element better, we could get a Cole arc about his previous ghostlyness and maybe it could be affecting him even now, maybe Some bonding between Nya and Morro about elements of Wojira, and the obvious angst of the whole possession incident and how they should deal with it after years of not seeing each other, Kai being incredibly cautious and Lloyd being unsure how to react, and maybe Morro could help point Zane to Pixal because Morro and Pixal is probably the best duo ever.

Then we also need to take in consideration the fact that Morro does not have an element anymore, and unless they pull some weird elemental lore shi like “Morro is the first elemental master of wind so he can still control it too” he won’t ever have one. So far with a lot of non elemental characters or when elemental masters lose their element they are shown to be incredibly weak and unable to defend themselves, which is incredibly stupid to me. So i al hoping to imagine that Morro is a straight up badass with his hand to hand and weapons combat. Just realising this but whilst all of the non elemental masters are shown as weak, if you’re non-human you’re an exception to that rule. So maybe he will be fine in that aspect.

I also hope they don’t portray him as weaker then the ninja, BUT ALSO don’t portray the ninja as weaker than him. It’s always annoying when people do that when it’s more logical they’d be equals.

You know maybe they might resurrect Morro too but i don’t feel like it would be the best idea knowing Ninjago. They wouldn’t portray it the best and it would end up being a mess that might just ruins his character. But in my little au’s i can imagine him getting resurrected by accident and getting stuck with Wu’s element.

And now, finally, i hope you all realise every single ninja would be much older than Morro now if they meet him again.

[mychlapci]

I have been procrastinating this gjksjdfs but i wanted to send some kind of like. i dont think it would be considered an end really but like at least a conclusion in a way to the mertwins thing, at least for the whole bit about them coming to live together in the facility

Prowl does get very very close to losing his job there. They suspend him indefinitely until they can decide what to do with him. They suspend Jazz too but like at least he knows when he's going back.

The two mers, meanwhile, have been consistently getting much better. They are finally eating properly, no longer engaging in such reckless behaviour, and most importantly have not attacked each other as most of the staff had feared. As much as they all dont agree with what Prowl did, they have to concede to the fact that he was right. Not that they'd ever tell him though.

But the mers are still defensive and display highly aggressive behaviour when approached. The staff have enough common sense, unlike some mechs, to keep away. It makes it difficult to check on them in some ways, but it's not too bad. But also this means they really dont know how these mers will react to other mers. Ideally they'd want to be able to socialise these two as well, eventually introducing them to a shared tank, but they cant do that in any good conscience right now

The staff continue to try to approach the two mers over months, but their responses never change. It's only one day when Prowl, finally fully recovered and having gotten a medic's full approval to be back, is back in the facility that they see a difference.

Prowl had specifically requested those documents from his medic. He wrote to the aquarium to specifically request a visit with all that paperwork. Eventually they could not say no and let him in. Just for a day. With escort. Not on any official business. Just a visit.

He just wanted to see how those two were for himself. Jazz had told him they were doing fine, but he wanted to see it with his own two optics.

He walks up to the tank and just stands there, looking in, relieved already just to see that he is not immediately greeted with angry snarls and banging on the glass. Honestly that in itself would have been enough for him. But he sees one of the mers swim past, stop, look at him, and then tilt its head. The mer, the red one, then quickly swims away, but soon returns dragging the yellow one with him. The red one gestures at Prowl, and then yellow one squints. They seem to communicate in subtle movements that Prowl doesnt understand before they look at him again

The red one swims up to the glass, dragging the other again. But this time they both look at Prowl, fins kept close to their frames, and bow their heads slightly.

The poor (or maybe very lucky) staff just like drops his datapad lmao cos he has never seen anything like this before

Prowl has never seen this behaviour before either. A form of respect, perhaps? A sign of thanks? He does not know, but he knows it is friendly. Their fins are not just not flared in aggression, but are actively held as flatly as possible. They want to appear as non-threatening as possible, perhaps an act of submission or friendship.

Prowl wouldn't be able to figure it out like this, but he knows they must mean well. He places his servo on the glass, and the mers seem happy enough with the response and soon swim off again

The staff of course are like what the heck and end up reevaluating Prowl's suspension. Now that he's physically fit... Maybe they should ask him to come back. Maybe he might be the only one who would be able to approach those two. It takes them a few weeks, but they end up bringing Prowl back in. And of course they tell him to be Careful this time. Please.

I think it all works out tho ^^ The twins maybe still never truly knew what happened but they know Prowl helped them. They eventually let him get near the water after a few attempts from him and a few peace offerings of food. They are very cautious tho. They never quite go near him. They will still display aggression if he tries to approach.

It takes quite a bit of time before they finally approach him. They finally get comfortable enough to be near him... and eventually allowing him to touch them (tho really this ends up being more of the twins poking and prodding at Prowl because they are curious and also a menace and want to know what the heck is up with these weird land mechs)

The staff are happy to see these two finally socialising and displaying even less aggressive behaviour than before. Maybe Prowl finally makes some friends too

it's ok, i procrastinated answering this for a turn. I definitely imagined the twins would eventually grow closer with Prowl... In a way, he's helped them more than anyone else could have. His grand gesture of reuniting the two ended up helping them understand that there are land-mechs that can be trusted. Ironic, I know.

Sunny and Sides prodding at Prowl, dragging him into their tank, excitedly banging their tails against the glass when he's walking by... it's all extremely uplifting social behaviour from mers that the facility thought they had no hope of rehabilitating <3

[imthepunchlord]

Kalos needed a win more than the other gens, let's be real.

It did!

Like, XY over all were fun, but you could feel they were incomplete. This is the Gen where the enhanced version (or sequels) felt incredibly absent and Kalos needed more umph. For the game that led us into the 3D, it got the short end of the stick. So it really does need this.

And I think this works out overall. We were ALL dreading the "faithful" BW remakes. And I wasn't that all excited for Let's Go Jhoto, though I found this was the least likely option. So Legends Z-A was a very pleasant surprise. And it's coming out next year at an unknown time! It's got time to cook! Well, assuming they didn't start development recently. Hopefully it's further along than recently started. Either way, it's really good they took a break this year, I got plenty of Pokemon games to replay, and some fan games to play, and I'm just going to curiously keep an eye out for news. And hope the earliest release will be November as then it'll be kinda close to getting a 2 year development, cause the more time to cook the better. I am good waiting for games, I'd rather a finished product than a rushed one.

And by the teaser, there's so much curiosity over it.

Is it really going to be set in the past and a prequel? Or is it going to be more modern-future and a sequel? Helping with the construction of Lumoise City to me leans more past but we'll see. I also wonder if we'll see a Pokemon version of Napoleon as he was the one who wanted Paris reconstructed.

And learning that, apparently, it's entirely set in Lumiose City is going to be interesting to see how that works. Will there be biomes? Or will the Lumiose Catacombs (that it should have) be used as places to catch wild pokemon? And how are we going to play a role in the city reconstruction? It's a different theme and set up to be sure, one I am curious about.

Also, with Mega Evolution coming back (which was my favorite of the gimmicks), I do wonder if this means we'll get more Megas over regional and convergent forms, which I would be a little bummed about, but its cool to get more Megas.

And we'll finally see the Mega Kalos Starters! And maybe Flygon will get a Mega finally! And I know some wanted to Mega Dragonite and we did see Dragonair in the trailer so that's a possibility.

And then there's the fun of the starter speculation, assuming we'll still get a shuffled up trio. Which so far this is the most popular theory I think:

Which does have some merit, as two are based on French royalty/leaders, and Torchic can be tied to the Gallic Rooster.

The only thing to clash is chances are good we'll get Megas for them over regional evolution, and we already got Mega Blaziken. They may prefer to do a whole new trio. Torchic is also a bit of an odd one out as there are 2 specifically based on French royalty and Torchic isn't, unless there is a French royal it could be tied to. Charlemagne is the only other iconic French royal I can think of, but I don't know enough specific details about him outside he unified the Franks and was the first King of France, but maybe Blaziken could work off him?

Either way, I am very curious, a little excited and hopeful, though more cautious optimistic. I am hoping this game will have enough time to cook. I do love Pokemon and I want to see this franchise thrive and be the best it can be. So I am curiously excited for us to revisit Kalos soon and see how it's going to go.

[imhereformysciencefriends]

@mcyt-yuri-week Day 5: Rarepair!

Gem/Puffy because faves should kiss. And flirt. Excessively. Read on AO3 here

Princess Gem was in the lighthouse running some mild repairs when she first caught sight of the ship on the horizon. Ships were not strange things in Dawn. She herself had built the port, after all, but this was not one of Dawn’s ships, nor did she recognize its sails nor its flag. It wasn’t a pirate flag, thank goodness, she wasn’t sure she was quite up to task to deal with seafaring pillagers at the moment, but there was still a stranger at her shores.

She descended the lighthouse and crossed to her port, wings folded behind her for the time being. She didn’t know if this was a threat yet or not, and butterfly wings made for delicate, easily shot targets if she wasn’t cautious.

The ship was modest. Typically there would be a crew of maybe four people for a vessel this size, but it was possible for one person to man such a thing alone, if the person was practiced. Gem stood at the stone wall shoring up the small cliffside, hand resting on a crenellation, and watched as the vessel’s one-woman-crew heaved the anchor over the side, fastened her boat to the dock, and staggered off.

The bow-legged sheep hybrid (ram? She had large, curling horns) glanced up and caught sight of Princess Gem, and flashed her a big smile.

“Hey girl,” she called, leaning her elbow awkwardly on a pile of crates Gem had ready for trade when one of her own ships returned from their current voyage, “are you from Tennessee?”

“...What?”

“Cause you’reeeee the only ten I see!”

Gem stared at her, wide eyed and flabbergasted and maybe just a touch pink to the cheeks.

“Are you drunk!?” she shouted down, trying to sound appalled and mostly just coming off as embarrassed.

The sailor clicked her tongue and snapped before she pointed two double pistols Gem’s way, staggering slightly with her weight removed from the crates. “I am so dehydrated.”

“Oh well for goodness sake!” Gem unlocked the gate to port and descended the steps, catching the sailor before she could tilt hooves over kilter into the seawater behind her. “Did you not pack enough water for your trip?”

“Got blown off course,” she muttered, leaning on Gem heavily, “nasty storm.”

Well. At least she was alive. Gem huffed.

“I am Princess Gem, ruler of Dawn.”

The sailor grinned. “Captain Puffy; at your service pretty lady.”

Gem felt herself blush again, then snapped her gaze forward, focusing on getting them up the steps. “Let’s just get you some water!”

Puffy laughed, and let Gem all but drag her to the tavern. Across multiple bottles of water, a tankard of very thin mead, and two cups of apple cider, Puffy detailed what had happened to Gem. She’d been sailing since she was old enough to hold a rope and had all the overconfidence to match. She’d been on her own, something she’d done a billion times before, when a storm caught her blindsided. She’d survived and so had her ship, but she’d lost some supplies and had been blown far from the shore she’d been headed towards.

“Normally I have my son with me, and he can get rid of the worst storms. Guess I got too comfortable; didn’t prepare like normal people should.”

“You have a son,” Gem said, for some reason fixated on that fact and feeling… oddly sad?

Puffy grinned, waggling her eyebrows at Gem. “Yeah, but I’m single.”

Gem felt heat rise to her cheeks once again.

“And ready to mingle,” Puffy added lasciviously, leaning forward, and Gem shoved the glass towards her.

“Ju–just drink your juice!!”

Puffy laughed and hoisted the glass upwards, first, as though to toast, before downing it.

“You, um, feeling less dehydrated?” Gem asked, desperately changing the subject.

“Yeah. It’ll take a while to fully recover, though, hydration is best done in multiple smaller drinks done consistently and frequently overtime.” Again, that cocksure, self-assured grin of hers. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around a while.”

Gem was a princess. She was trained from a young age to flit lightly and easily from social situation to social situation, always fluttering above conflict and subtle insult and shadowed prodding. Her words were as delicate lace, intricate and woven into complexity.

This woman’s straightforward flirtations and direct approach had Gem’s heart pounding like a warhammer against her birdcage ribs. If Gem’s decorum was trained to look like stained glass, Puffy’s brazenness was a rock crashing through it.

And, on top of all of that, the captain had the audacity to laugh at her.

“You don’t play with sailors much, do you little lady?” she asked, reclining in her seat and crossing a leg over her knee. It gave Gem a very clear view of her. Her white-turned-beige shirt with ruffles over her breasts tucked into high waisted, big-buttoned pants. Her large captain’s coat hanging boldly off her shoulders, her elbows propped up to the sides. Her beads and coins strung throughout her hair, catching the light of the tavern and glinting distractingly. Her sailor’s muscles and big curling horns and the way the light caught on the dampness left on her lips.

“I—” Gem started when she realized she’d been staring, “Converse. With, traders, perfectly frequently.”

“And none of ‘em take advantage of how cute you are?” Why was her voice so loud? It didn’t sound this loud in Gem’s ears when they were on the dock. Well, loud yes but not this loud. Must’ve been because they were inside now. Puffy’s voice was simply filling the space, and echoing back.

“I’m not—it’s not, in a princess’s job description to be taken advantage of,” Gem stuttered, blushing at how the words sounded coming out of her own mouth. She didn’t mean it like that!

But Puffy laughed at her, and uncrossed her leg with a sharp thud of hoof hitting floor, and rose with a faint jingling of her hair ornaments. She rounded the table with lazy swagger, and it should’ve been impossible for a woman so short to loom so toweringly.

She stopped with her hip cocked against the table, and set a hand on Gem’s shoulder, deceptively slow and gentle. “What about fun?” she asked, voice now so quiet, so so so so quiet Gem had to lean forward to hear her better, her hand drifting off Gem’s shoulder to trail down her arm. “Is having fun in the job description?”

“I—” Gem cut off as she shuddered, Puffy’s hand, roughened with rope and seawater, caressing the freckles dotting the exposed skin of Gem’s own. She swallowed, unable to blink or look away. “I have plenty of fun.”

Puffy grinned like she’d won. “Yeah? Come by my boat and show me sometime, pretty princess. I’ll let you see something nice.”

Gem was so red in the face it made her lightheaded as she watched Puffy saunter away. It did not become a princess to lose her marbles so easily, but Gem simply couldn’t seem to relocate her composure. It was fully lost. Off in the fields somewhere. Or maybe it was leaping around Puffy’s hocks, admiring the way her fluffy woolen tail wiggled as she walked.

The moment the tavern door swung shut behind her, Gem tore her eyes away and grasped at the nearest drink, downing the entire thing in big, heaving gulps. She slammed the cup down in a distinctly unladylike fashion, gasping slightly.

Without distraction, she was now free to make eye contact with the tavern keeper. The tavern keeper who watched her very knowingly. Who had probably been watching her and Puffy since the two had entered in and ordered an absurd number of drinks.

But instead of remarking, the tavernkeeper merely asked, “So are you the one paying for those, then?”

“She—oh she didn’t even—!” Gem gasped, realizing Puffy had left her with the bill. “Oh that little—I’m gonna—!”

She was going to—!

Going to…

She…

Gem’s face, flushed red with a mixture of arousal and fluster and embarrassment at being lightly swindled, felt surely that there must be steam rolling out of her ears by this point. She dropped her burning face into her hands, hiding behind her curtain of hair and red to the tips of her ears.

[twompweek]

TWOMP WEEK - Day 0

this is an example @twompweek post layout!

-

Agros’ fingers danced across the keyboard as he typed. It filled the air around him with a gentle but incessant clicking of keys. His void was dark, the only light illuminating the space coming from the glare of his computer screen.

The hour was late and Argos really had meant to head to bed already… he had just been struck with too many brilliant ideas. He and Mr Plant had enjoyed such a wonderful day together hiking through one of the snowier voids, all bundled up in winter coats and searching out some new plants to add to Agros’ collection!

Or, rather; Argos had become all bundled up and cosy after Mr Plant had seen him shivering and shucked his own coat to wrap him up in. The fabric of it was thick and flesh-warm and Argos had to fight his every instinct to bury his face in the mass of it and just enjoy the smell of him. It was so big on him too! Practically drowning him since it’s usual owner was so much taller than Argos.

That coat wouldn’t be finding it’s way back to Mr Plant if Argos had anything to say about it! He just missed Mr Plant so much in the hours they were apart, so he needed it. Really, he did! So now he will be keeping it, safely tucked in the cupboard where he moved his shrine to, to snuggle up in when he needs its comfort.

But just because Argos knew he would never be returning the coat to it’s rightful owner didn’t mean that he hadn’t thought about using its return as an excuse to visit Mr Plant.

What would Mr Plant think of that? Would he think Argos was just so helpful and sweet? Maybe he’d hug Argos for the very first time!

All the possibilities had swirled in Argos’ mind until he just couldn’t take it anymore and had thrown himself out of bed. The computer had powered up quickly enough, flooding his room with brightness and possibilities as he opened up a document to start writing out his wildest fantasies…

This wasn’t the first time Argos had written out his daydreams about himself and his beloved Mr Plant, and it surely wouldn’t be the last! In fact, he even had some of the shorter ones printed out and tacked up alongside his hidden photos of Mr Plant.

A manic grin curled across his face as he typed and typed, so enthralled in his own fantasy that he didn’t even notice that someone had entered his void until a finger tapped his shoulder.

“Gah!” Argos cried, whirling around in his seat. “M- Mr Plant! What are— What are you doing here?”

Mr Plant didn’t answer. He only turned his head between Argos and his computer screen, scrutinising the words open for the world to see.

Argos squeaked in dismay, trying in vain to cover the screen with his too-small hands.

“I wasn’t writing fanfiction about us!” he rambled, voice high and panicked. “I just— I just—”

Mr Plant quieted him with a slow pat to the top of his head. When Argos responded by staring up at him in cautious confusion, Mr Plant pulled a notebook out from his pocket and flipped it open, offering a page for Agros’ inspection.

He took the notebook slowly, almost reverently, and set himself to deciphering Mr Plant’s familiar scrawl. When he realised what it was, he let out a small gasp.

“Mr Plant! You write about us, too?”

Mr Plant said nothing.

“This is really good. You should share this?” When Mr Plant just shrugged, Agros continued on. “No, really. Look, there’s a TWOMP event running where you can share your writing. All we need to do is type this up and then post it on tumblr with the event tags!”

Mr Plant allowed Argos to settle in and prepare his work for posting, watching him with a fond gaze. He didn’t particularly care for sharing his work, but he would let Argos if he really wanted.

Once Argos had typed Mr Plants work into a tumblr post, using both the event tag and @ ing the blog (though, he really only had to do one or the other) he smiled up at him.

“Do you want to see mine?” he asked, somewhere between shy and excited to be sharing his writing.

Mr Plant nodded and settled in for a night of reading Argos’ writing, just happy to be spending time with him.

-

this is silly, but i wanted to give another example post and figured why not make the guys write fanfic about each other lol

[daystar-by-jacqui-natla]

9. IMPERIAL COLLEGE

FEBRUARY'S BITTER CHILL HAD SETTLED over London, wrapping the city in a shroud of fog that clung to the cobblestones like a second skin. Even the River Thames seemed sluggish, its waters heavy and dark beneath the overcast sky. I watched the city stir to life, its inhabitants braving the morning with hats pulled low and collars turned up against the cold.

The world outside felt like a different one altogether, so far removed from the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth behind me, from the soothing presence of Ingram at my side. I glanced at him, his profile sharp against the dim light. Ingram thought it was going to be a bonding moment with Joseph and Rhona, but I had a plan.

"It's weird being in the opening with humans," Ingram said, closing his distance beside me.

His voice was low, thoughtful, as though he were still trying to make sense of the world outside our safe haven. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, searching for reassurance, for understanding. But this time, I wasn't just going to be the comfort he sought—I had to be the catalyst for something more. The massacre had changed everything, and I wasn't willing to sit idly by and hope it wouldn't happen again.

"Yes, it is," I agreed, my tone deliberately measured. "But maybe it's time we step into that world more fully, instead of just observing from a distance.”

Ingram's brow furrowed slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought. "You're thinking about the college again, aren't you?"

I nodded, keeping my gaze steady on his. "I am. The massacre must been tied to Joham and his growing hybrid army somehow. I'm surprised my mother didn't get killed there. I need to know what happened to her during it."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the motion tense. "And you think going to Imperial College is the answer?"

"It's a start," I said firmly. "Maybe it could help with solving bits and pieces of this mystery."

Ingram's gaze softened as he studied me, a mixture of concern and admiration in his eyes. "You're serious about this."

"Deadly serious," I replied, the words heavy with meaning. "I know it's risky. But if we don't take this risk, we're just waiting for the next disaster. And who's to say we'll be so lucky next time?"

He fell silent, lost in thought, and I knew he was weighing my words carefully. Ingram had always been the more cautious of the two brothers, more inclined to think things through before acting. But even he couldn't ignore the truth of what I was saying. The massacre had been a stark reminder that the world wasn't as safe as we'd convinced ourselves it was.

"Joseph isn't going to like this," he said finally, his voice tinged with resignation.

"He won't," I admitted, "but he needs to understand why this is necessary. We can't afford to be passive anymore."

Ingram nodded slowly, a flicker of resolve crossing his features. "I'll support you, Violet. But we should prepare ourselves for his reaction. Joseph can be... difficult when he feels threatened."

Just as he finished speaking, Joseph and Rhona came up to us. Rhona's eyes immediately searched for Ingram, a gentle smile on her lips, while Joseph's gaze fell on me, his expression unreadable. The tension that had been building seemed to intensify as they approached.

"Good morning," Rhona said warmly, though there was a trace of concern in her voice. "I hope we're not interrupting anything."

"Not at all," I replied, trying to keep my tone light. "We were just discussing some... plans."

Joseph's eyes narrowed slightly, the familiar intensity of his gaze sharpening as he caught on to the undertone of our conversation. "Plans?" he echoed. "What kind of plans?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to reveal. "I've been thinking about the massacre, about Joham and his possible connection to the college and I believe we need to investigate further. I want to visit at Imperial College to gain insights into what's happening and maybe uncover more about Joham's activities."

Joseph's expression darkened immediately, and he exchanged a look with Rhona. "You're suggesting that we go to a college building, into the middle of human society, where our presence could easily be detected?" His voice was icy, the concern in his eyes palpable.

"Well, the Cullens managed," I reminded him.

Joseph's eyes flashed with worry at the mention of the Cullens. "The Cullens are a different case. They live among humans, have established their own routine. We're not in their position."

"I know that," I said calmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "But our situation is different now. The massacre made it clear that there's more to Joham's motive than what Huilen and Nahuel had told the Volturi."

Rhona stepped forward, her hand resting gently on Joseph's arm. "Violet has a point," she said softly, though her tone held a note of caution. "We only know about what they told him but not the whole story."

Joseph's eyes shifted between Rhona and me, his expression a complex mixture of frustration and reluctant consideration. "This isn't just about Joham, is it?" he asked, his voice low and strained. "It's about closure for your mum."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of Joseph's words. "Yes, it is. I need to understand what happened to her. We need to uncover the truth about the massacre and Joham's plans."

Joseph's shoulders tensed as he considered my words. "Violet, you know the risks involved. Our presence in human society—especially in a place like Imperial College—could jeopardize everything. We're not exactly inconspicuous."

"I'm aware of that," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But if we don't act, we might miss crucial information that could prevent future tragedies. We need to be proactive."

Joseph's gaze turned toward Rhona, his frustration evident. "And you're both willing to take these risks? What about the safety of the others?"

Rhona's eyes met mine, her expression resolute. "We're all aware of the risks, Joseph. But sometimes, we have to step outside our comfort zones to make a difference."

A tense silence followed as Joseph processed our arguments. The fog outside seemed to press against the windows, mirroring the heaviness of the decision at hand. Finally, Joseph exhaled deeply, his expression softening.

"Alright," he said, his voice low. "We'll help you out with your plan. But we'll need to be extra careful with this."

Relief washed over me, and I met Joseph's gaze with gratitude.

Ingram held my hand, his grip firm and reassuring.

Joseph gave a curt nod, his eyes still dark with concern. "We'll need to be meticulous with our planning," he said, his voice taking on a more business-like tone. "We'll have to scout the area, map out the college, and figure out the best times to move without attracting attention."

Rhona, still at Joseph's side, seemed to sense the shift in the conversation and spoke up. "Before we get too deep into the details, there's something I want to suggest."

We all turned to her, curious. Rhona's voice was gentle but resolute as she continued. "I think we should consider a memorial for those who were lost in the massacre."

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, I could feel the raw emotion behind them. Rhona had always been more attuned to the human side of things, perhaps more than any of us. The idea of a memorial seemed to strike a chord, especially given the weight of what we were about to undertake.

Ingram was the first to speak. "A memorial," he repeated, as if testing the idea in his mind. "For the humans who died?"

"No, brother, a memorial for the flowers that were trampled in the chaos," Joseph said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He sighed and shook his head, the frustration evident in his expression. "Of course, for the humans who died."

Rhona frowned slightly at Joseph's tone but didn't let it deter her. She continued, her voice steady and filled with purpose. "It's more than just for the humans, Joseph. It's for all of us who were affected by this. The massacre wasn't just a human tragedy—it was a tragedy for our kind too. We lost people we cared about. And if we're going to confront Joham and whatever he has planned, we need to remember why we're doing it."

Joseph's sarcasm faded as he listened to Rhona. Her words seemed to resonate with something deeper inside him. He looked away, his eyes focusing on the foggy window, as if searching for answers in the swirling mist outside. After a moment, he nodded, the tension in his posture easing slightly.

"You're right," he conceded, his voice softer now. "We need to remember the stakes. A memorial could help us stay focused, give us something to hold on to when things get difficult."

I nodded, feeling a sense of unity building among us.

The Imperial College loomed ahead, its gothic architecture silhouetted against the overcast sky. We walked through the college's main gates, blending seamlessly with the early morning crowd of students and faculty, our footsteps unnaturally quiet on the cobblestones.

The memorial had been set up in the courtyard, a stark contrast to the lively, bustling surroundings. It was simple—an elegant stone structure surrounded by flowers, with a plaque listing the names of those who had died in the massacre. The atmosphere was heavy, the weight of loss palpable, even though most passersby barely spared it a glance. For them, it was just a tragic footnote in the history of the institution. But for us, it was a reminder of the horrors that had unfolded, a place where blood had been spilled, and lives—both human and otherwise—had been irreversibly changed.

I paused at the edge of the courtyard, my gaze drawn to the memorial like a magnet. Ingram was by my side, his hand hovering near mine. Joseph and Rhona lingered a few steps behind, their eyes scanning the area, alert for any sign of danger or prying eyes.

The four of us stood in silence for a moment, letting the gravity of the place wash over us. The names on the plaque blurred slightly as I blinked, thoughts of the massacre threatening to surface. I read the names of the massacred and a name caught my attention: Melissa Baxter.

I knew the name Melissa from my mother's journal. She was my mother's best friend in college years who was working with Joham with his experiments. But it was the surname that caught me off guard. It was my original surname before I joined the Khotlers. It was a part of Ayla's surname too.

The realization hit me like a blow to the chest. Baxter. My mother's best friend, Melissa, shared our original surname. The connection felt impossible, but there it was, etched into the cold stone in front of me. I stared at the name, my mind racing, trying to piece together the fragments of what I knew. My mother had never mentioned this part about Melissa in this context, only vague references in her journal about their time at the college and their work with Joham.

Ingram must have sensed the shift in my energy because he stepped closer, his fingers lightly brushing my arm. "Violet?" His voice was soft, cautious.

I shook my head slightly, trying to gather my thoughts before speaking. "It's her. Melissa Baxter. She was close to my mother... and she share our original surname."

He frowned, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "Your original surname? You mean before—"

"Before the Khotlers," I finished for him. "It's not a common surname, I think. There's no way it's a coincidence."

Joseph stepped forward, his keen hearing having caught our conversation. "Are you saying she was family?" His tone was neutral, but there was an underlying tension in his voice.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. "But it's a strong possibility. I have to look into it."

I turned back to the memorial, my eyes tracing over Melissa's name again. My thoughts drifted back to the massacre, to Joham and his twisted experiments. Was this connection to Melissa another piece of the puzzle, another thread leading back to him?

"What was your mother's surname?" Ingram asked.

"Clarke," I recalled. "My mother's name was Evelyn Clarke and my father's name is Gavin Baxter."

"Sounds like your dad either has a sister or a cousin," Joseph theorised.

It sounded plausible, but he never once mentioned his own family whatsoever. The revelation stirred something deep inside me—something that made me question everything I thought I knew about my family. If Melissa Baxter was related to my father, it meant there were ties I had never been told about. Ties that somehow connected my parents to Joham, to the massacre, and to the experiments that had torn lives apart. And now, standing here at the memorial, I couldn't shake the feeling that this discovery was more than just a coincidence. It was a key to the truth.

"Why wouldn't your father mention her?" Rhona's voice cut through the fog of my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. Her expression was kind, but her eyes held the same cautious curiosity as the others.

"I don't know," I whispered, my voice sounding small against the backdrop of the bustling college. "He was always quiet about his past, even before we were changed. But this... this feels too important to have been left out."

But before any of us could speak, a hum invaded my ears. A strange, low humming sound began to fill the courtyard, barely noticeable at first but quickly growing louder, more insistent. It was out of place, a melodic tune that seemed to rise from the very stones beneath our feet. The notes were familiar, eerie in their simplicity—It's a Small World, the nursery-like melody that clashed harshly against the somber atmosphere of the memorial.

I stiffened, my senses sharpening instantly. Ingram's hand gripped mine tighter, his body tensing beside me. Joseph and Rhona exchanged quick glances, their eyes scanning the courtyard with the heightened awareness of our kind. The humming wasn't natural. It wasn't coming from any of the students passing by. No one else seemed to hear it.

"Do you hear that?" I asked quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Joseph's gaze darkened, and his jaw tightened. "I hear it," he muttered, his voice low, dangerous. "It's deliberate. Someone's watching us."

Rhona's eyes flickered with a mixture of worry and concentration. "But why here, at the memorial? Do they somehow know about us?"

The tune grew louder still, an unnerving lullaby that sent a chill down my spine. It wound through the fog and the crowd like a predator circling its prey. I looked around, scanning the faces of the students walking by, the professors deep in conversation. None of them seemed to notice. It was as if the sound existed only for us.

"They're trying to unsettle us," Joseph growled. "Whoever's behind this knows we're investigating. This is a message."

The humming continued, a slow, mocking rhythm that dripped with malice. It wasn't just an attempt to frighten us—it was meant to remind us of the massacre, to dredge up the chaos and bloodshed that had taken place here. It's a Small World. A twisted choice of song, as if to mock the smallness of our world, the limited scope of our power compared to the forces we were up against.

Ingram's eyes flickered, his teeth barely concealed behind clenched lips. "We need to move. Whoever's doing this is close."

But before any of us could react, the humming stopped as abruptly as it had begun, leaving a hollow, oppressive silence in its wake. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for something to happen.

Then I saw it. A figure, standing at the far edge of the courtyard, just beyond the reach of the mist. It must had been a feminine figure, with the only thing I saw was her shoulder length wavy blonde hair and her black hood concealing her eyes, revealing her chin and lips only. The rest of her clothing was obscured by the shadows, blending seamlessly into the fog. Her lips, however, were twisted into a faint, knowing smile, as if she was fully aware of the impact her presence was having on us. I felt a cold shiver race down my spine as I met her gaze—or what little I could see of it beneath the hood. It was clear she was no ordinary human. There was something otherworldly about her stance, the way she seemed to command the very air around her.

Joseph noticed her too. His eyes narrowed, and I saw his muscles tense as if ready to pounce at the first sign of danger. "Who is that?" he muttered, his voice barely above a growl.

"I don't know," I whispered, though something deep inside me stirred, as if the figure was connected to the swirling web of mysteries we had uncovered so far. "But she's not just a bystander."

The figure took a slow step forward, her movements graceful yet deliberate. The smile on her lips widened, as if inviting us to make the first move. It was a challenge—an open provocation.

Ingram's hand tightened around mine, his voice low and steady. "We should leave, Violet. This isn't a safe place to confront anyone."

I nodded, but my eyes remained locked on the figure. Something about her was magnetic, as if she held answers that could unravel everything we had been searching for. Yet, the sense of danger was unmistakable. We couldn't afford to act rashly, not here, not now.

Rhona shifted closer to Joseph, her eyes flicking between the mysterious woman and the surrounding crowd. "We can't risk a public confrontation," she murmured. "But we can't ignore this either."

The figure paused, her smile fading as she tilted her head ever so slightly. Then, in a slow, deliberate movement, she raised her hand and pointed directly at the memorial. It was a silent command, a gesture loaded with meaning that none of us could fully decipher. But one thing was clear: she was connected to the massacre. She knew something—perhaps everything—about Joham, about Melissa Baxter, about the experiments that had led to so much death.

And then, without warning, she turned and disappeared into the fog, leaving only the echo of her humming behind.

Joseph cursed under his breath. "We have to find out who she is."

"We will," I said, my voice firm despite the uneasy churn in my stomach. "But not here. Not now."

The humming lingered in the air like a specter as we stood in the courtyard, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on us. This was only the beginning—another piece of the puzzle, one that threatened to change everything.

I glanced back at the memorial one last time, my eyes lingering on Melissa Baxter's name. Whatever secrets my family had buried, I knew they were about to be unearthed. And the truth, when it finally came to light, would be far more dangerous than any of us could imagine.

[wanderingjournalofshadows]

principium II

I shall tread down on the path of creating a character.

But before that, allow me to correct my previous writ regarding the system I will use.

Most of the Ravenloft setting has been published in its full glory under the second edition of AD&D, thus I shall use that one. Luckily, I also possess a Player's Handbook of this edition, which will be quite handy with character generation and general rules. The spells are also straightforward, and there is the possibility to uitlize Gavin Norman's Theorems and Thaumaturgy but also Wonder & Wickedness from Lost Pages. I've been quite excited to include those in some games already, and so far haven't had the luck to do so.

Today's post will be about character creation, and establishing the starting area - one of the Domains of Dread.

I'm also thinking about creating a Wiki for myself, or something that functions as a Wiki - maybe Notion could be a good option, but I leave this decision for now behind. There is a character to be made.

I was thinking about using some inspirational practices, like using the Tarokka deck to determine certain things. I know for certain that if I would play a human, my option to have multiple classes is only to dual-class, meaning I have to level up one class to a certain point, where I stop and start the new class, retaining all the benefits of the previous one, but I can't move forward with the old one.

All the other playable races can Multiclass, meaning they always use the most favourable benefits of the classes but have certain restriction.

But again, maybe the cards tell me otherwise - so let's see! I will draw four cards of the Tarokka deck to determine my character's past as a child, how they flourished/survived through out adulthood so far, what is their ideal and their burden. I will also draw a fifth card that should give me a certain idea of the first Domain of Dread this character will venture into.

The cards are:

Seven of Swords - Hooded One - Bigotry, intolerance, and xenophobia; a mysterious presence or newcomer

Innocent - A being of great importance whose life is in danger (who might be helpless or simply unaware of the peril)

Four of Coins - Merchant - A rare commodity or business opportunity; deceitful or dangerous business transactions

Two of Glyphs - Missionary - Those who spread wisdom and faith to others; warnings of the spread of fear and ignorance

Nine of Glyphs - Traitor - Betrayal by someone close and trusted; a weakening or loss of faith

So what I can deduct from this - Through the Hooden One, the character had a family being executed for a sin they commited. As a child they had to grow up on the streets, fending for themselves, becoming streetwise.

The Innocent card suggests me an adulthood where they were seeking the truth about their family being executed. Something that might've drawn them to investigation and knowing the truth.

The ideal and the burden is fairly interesting, since the Merchant ideal would blatantly suggest that the character is mainly motivated by monetary gains, but the ideal behind it is risk taking, running a business, taking rare opportunities that come with interesting consequences. I think their ideal is being daring, or ambitious.

The Missionary says is the wisdom and faith, of caution and preaching of dangers. Maybe they might be overly cautious? Although that might be fairly against the ideal. Catastrophizing might be the actual burden. While they will take the risks ahead, the scenarios in their head could be the worst of the worst nightmares.

Now the Traitor is a very interesting choice for the Domain of Dread. I reach back for the Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft - to see which Domain might be the best fitting for this. I specifically don't want Barovia, even though there are some aspects of it that might work well with this.

I found Borca to be the most fitting one with its hallmarks of political intrigue, poison, and revenge. Noble families, conspiracies and corruption is definitely fitting to the Traitor card.

I'm thinking of a Half-Elf, specifically a Half-Elf Thief/Mage multiclass. But now I realize that OSE with the Advanced books might be a good option for the rules. It seems to be closer to 1E than 2E, but has some elements well massaged within the rules, that make it certainly more appealing, like Humans can also multiclass.

Nevertheless, I'll roll first my Ability scores - in the 2E book six methods are presented, for the joy and randomness, I shall roll 1d6 to determine which method I'll be using.

Number 3 - Method III - Rolling 3d6 six times and then assigning them to the abilities. Fair and harsh. Good start.

16, 12, 12, 11, 11, 9 - I rolled fairly well for this.

Following OSE character creation, now I choose my class(es). I'm still thinking of Thief and Mage (or in OSE's case, Magic User). The wonderful thing about the OSE multiclass, that it allows you to have the best armour, weapon, spell casting, and stealth skills of your classes, as long you have the appropriate equipment.

And the Advanced books hold some goodness when it comes to the races, but I will stick to the half-elf. And thusly, I record most of the abilities and saves, and additional things. I'll take the advice from Theorems and Thaumaturgy, and start with Read Magic as a first spell, and generate two random from my list, Magic Missile and Sleep, then I choose two freely - which I'll do so from the T&T (ain't gonna write that title again) - Reptilian Metabolism from the Vivimancy list, and Crystal Resonance from the Elementalist list

And due to the nature of OSE, I'll start with a wonderful amount of hit points: 3. Main priority - don't die.

At this point I slowly get the idea of the character on a mechanical level as well. Use spells wisely, sneak often, fight only when needed.

Gotta get some friends during adventuring.

Backstory will come around for the next post - most likely in the company of the Oracle I'll be using.

Cheers,

Mythwriter

[vaovalis]

I heard part of this song while I was out getting pastries. The nearby bakery always has music playing in their shop, and I’ve taken to sometimes sitting there and listening to it while I eat whatever I’ve purchased today. This one grabbed my attention. When I got home, I looked it up and I’ve listened to it now on repeat for some hours.  I do not hear myself in this one. This could be a song about me from someone else’s perspective though; from the perspective of someone that cannot do what I do, go where I go or know what I know.  Someone that wants to care about me, but cannot hope to keep up with me. I wonder how many people have felt like that towards me? I can’t know. A few, I’m certain. Maybe more than I’d be comfortable with if I truly knew.   Songs like this do not always have kind things to say to me.  This song feels like he is telling me to slow down sometimes and not leave everyone behind.  It reminds me to remember just how single-minded I am, and that it makes me very selfish when I get carried away on the winds of just whatever my plans for myself are for a given interval. It’s never enjoyable, to be reminded of one’s character flaws and defects, but it is sometimes needful, especially with someone like me.  A song like this is a favor in disguise, like a friend that will tell you the truth even when it sucks and you won’t want to hear it. It must be a common reminder that many of the metas here need and maybe don’t think about as often as they should where their relationships with unpowered friends and family are concerned, because a lot of what I found on the internet about this song was attached to music videos showcasing behavior just like I’ve been guilty of throughout my life. I could fly from a very young age, and go where others never could both for that and because the radiation in storms and desolate ruins alike was merely something for me to be cautious of in the worst of its cases.  Most of the radiation was just Fire being stuck where it shouldn’t have been, and it wouldn’t harm me at all.   Some of it was something foreign and not Fire at all, and that was the stuff I needed to be careful of...but I could go to such places and weather such storms with no worries even when I’d get a bit hurt sometimes.  I’d mend.   Others? Most often, they would have simply died to go where I could go.  I spent my entire young life flouting my clan, and my mother in particular, to go exploring. There was little they could do to stop me when I’d just go flying off if I didn’t like what they were telling me I had to do today, and sometimes I was quite the shit-ass little brat in my youth about these things. It’s easy to see it for what it was in hindsight, but at the time? At the time, I was preoccupied with reveling in my freedom to go and see and do.   It never occurred to me at all back then to think about anyone’s feelings beyond my own. I wasn’t like that much during the rebellion I began. No time for it. No desire for it. I was single-minded about that as well though. I never relaxed. I never slowed down.   My ex-friends often had to just about sit on me to get me to slow down enough for our followers to rest and mend when they needed to, because I am just as relentless in war as I am selfish when in pursuit of my whims and goals of the day. I didn’t need too many lessons in keeping my people rested and healthy when possible, but I did need those lessons.  I default to a relentless, selfish state too well and too easily, and this song is pulling no punches in letting me know that I know exactly how I am and that I ran out of excuses for it a long time ago. I know better now. I shouldn’t need anyone to sit on me or tell me to knock it off anymore.   I’m going to be adding this song to my ‘Shit I Need To Hear Sometimes’ playlist. It can do me nothing but good to have the occasional but consistent reminder to remember these things.

[books-and-catears]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write some headcanons on how the brothers would react to the alternate timeline MC (the one killed by belphie, rip) haunting the house of lamentation? I just think some angst would be neato. Keep up the good work! I love your writing <3

Oh how much I love this concept. With all the ghost MCs I've been writing this fits in perfectly. How I love writing angst hehehe thank you for this wonderful ask

Thank you so much for your kindness. I hope I can do this justice :')

It has been months since you've been gone. Your body buried in the human world, and yet your soul still felt like it was lingering.

They could see you - a glimpse here, a whisper there and your presence everywhere. Almost as if you just walked past them into your room, and lay curled up in bed with Satan's new books or Levi's new manga. Only you weren't.

The bumps in your bed were just pillows and blankets. The extra chair stood out like a sore thumb. They would so often call you and then feel stupid for expecting a response. Except you had started answering back now.

Lucifer could often hear paper rustling in his sleep. And when he woke up he found the paper work was done more than he remembered doing.

He found his favourite tea brewing whenever he was too tired. And it tasted exactly how you used to make it.

At first he thought it was some sort of sickening joke from his brothers so he threatened to punish them if they didn't come clean. But it was none of them.

Then...MC? Did you come back somehow?

He went into a secret frenzy, looking for you everywhere. Sometimes when the house was empty, he screamed out your name, he could hear your voice softly calling back from your room.

Soon those soft vague sounds became his only comfort - he became super strict about silence in the house. He refused to have any other tea than the one he found magically brewing. He'd always kiss the cups before drinking from them, and his eyes would sting with unshed tears.

___________________________________________

Mammon might be scared of ghosts. But not you. Never you. Especially when he could feel your weight in his arms whenever he missed you too much.

Maybe the sensation was more vivid, since he was the last one to hold you alive. He could also see you. A faint shadow that walked beside and waved to him whenever he was in your room.

And though the shadow had no face, he could tell it was smiling. He felt calm around it. Like you never left. He denied your death the most and now there was reason to.

He barely left the house and most of the time he just stayed in your room. That's where he had most memories with you. Sometimes he found coins and Grimm strewn around your bed, as if you'd left it there for him. He took them and stored them away, never to spend them.

He was overjoyed when he saw your shadow in his room. He started talking to it like it was you, pressing his lips against the walls where you appeared and watching your shadow reaching up to touch his shadow, holding it tight. In those moments he swore he could feel your arms around him again. And on those nights, his pillows would be drenched with his agony.

___________________________________________

Leviathan first noticed it when he saw that Player 2 was always logged in, in all of his games. Even the ones that came months after you were longer there.

And while player two didn't actively play, he found boost items in his game inventory that he didn't achieve himself. You used to hunt down boost items to help with his battles and he protected you during the fights.

He starts getting even more into gaming, to the point where he forgets to go out for meals. Mammon and Satan have to drag him out to eat. He often just sits there talking to himself as if you're still there.

Then one day, in the group texts of the game, he sees you text. Player 2: 'Go get him Levi! I got your back; we have a lot of ammo!" He forgot the game altogether desperately typing back a message.

You don't text as often as he would like, but he's always waiting for whatever you say. It's easily the best part of his day. If he fell asleep in front of the screen, he would wake up covered with a blanket and good morning message on screen. His brothers claim to never have gone inside so he knows it's you. He cries into the blanket you covered him with cause he misses you.

___________________________________________

Satan came to feel your presence in the strangest way. There was a particular cat that you were attached to. That cat started finding ways to sneak inside the house, in the library or Satan's room, holding small books in its mouth.

When Satan opened them up, he found petals of your favourite flowers tucked away in some particular pages. It resembled the way you marked your favorite chapters using colored bits of paper or bookmarks.

He figured out a way to talk to you. He made something that resembled an Ouija board and left a little cat shaped button on it. He tried it out in your room, and it worked. You were talking back. Not whole sentences but broken phrases and words. So he used yes and no questions from then onwards.

He often found new books in his room, a hint that you wanted him to read them. While reading, he could swear he felt your head rest on his shoulder as if trying to read with him. He also left books in your room to read. Though he missed your touch and your voice, the fact that you still talk to him gave him so much joy. He often kisses the books he gives you, hoping they reach your fingers and litters the pages with tear stains in hopes you'd see them and come back.

___________________________________________

Asmodeus screamed the first time he saw you behind him in the mirror. You were transculent, barely visible. But it was you and your distinct smile and wave of the hand, leaning against his bathroom wall, long streaks of dried blood near your neck. He could even smell you - your scent like flowers, firewood and old books.

He tries to talk to you, even tries to hold you but you're just an image. A reflection that reflects nothing but empty space. You don't seem to talk but you nod or shake your head in reply. He presses himself into the mirror as if trying to hug you tight.

But lately he hears whispers, very faint and barely there but he hears them. Always calling him somewhere where there is a mirror. Cause that's the only place he can see you. If you thought he was obsessed with mirrors then, you should see him now.

He almost covered his whole room up with mirrors so he could see you from all angles, making you feel as alive as he possibly could. He screams your name into his pillows. Maybe you would respond if he was louder?

___________________________________________

Beelzebub often passed by you room, all covered now, just like Lilith's. The door was always kept open but he didn't dare enter. But one day, a strong gust of wind blew it wide open as if urging him to enter. So he did.

On the bed he found some fresh treats placed right in the middle of your bed. It was the treats he loved to eat together with you. How did they even get here?

He sat on the bed and absent mindedly started eating. When he ate, he could hear your laughter and you talking - a surge of memories flooding his senses. And when he was done, he could swear he felt your fingers wiping his mouth.

Eversince then he refused to eat anywhere except your room and his brothers had to drag him to the table during breakfast and dinner. But whenever a new bakery or restaurant opened, he would bring all the food back only to eat it in your room. And he would smile, listening to saying how delicious the food is. He would often clutch at his chest and cry, missing the way you used to hold him whenever he was sad. Won't you come hold him now, MC?

___________________________________________

Belphegor couldn't feel a thing. The only way he knew you were still here was when he brothers acted strangely. He'd ask them of course, but they'd never reply to him. He was the reason MC was gone. Why would MC show themself to him?

So he observed his brothers, always cautious for every little thing that was out of place. He'd caught all his brothers crying at some point or the other. Especially in your room. So he'd curl up in your room to spend the night in there hoping to feel you like his brothers. Only he never did, and Mammon and Satan would scream and drag him out the next morning.

None of the brothers would let him inside of their own rooms either. They couldn't save you when it mattered. So now it was their way of protecting whatever essence was left of you.

Feeling dejected and guilty he went and locked himself inside his old attic. He rested his against the bars that locked him in. Isn't this where he first met you, MC? Sigh. You'd been nothing but kind to him so why did he-

"Belphie.." Then he heard it. For the first time in forever, he heard your voice again. Soft and kind - just like before. He looked up and through the bars, he saw the most familiar sight. You smiling at him through the bars, your fingers wrapped around yours. And just like that he broke down. He started howling in pain, as he tried to reach you, but his fingers slipped right through you. "I'm sorry I'm sorry come back please come back!" He cried as you disappeared into thin air again.

My Masterlist .

[ragingbookdragon]

She's A Bird! She's A Plane! She's...Spiderwoman?

Justice League x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: IDK where this came from but I was watching ITSV, so...there's that. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“This is your fault,” Barry griped, hacking away at the glowing fauna with the makeshift machete—in reality it was just a really big stick that had a really sharp rock tied to the end. “I told you our trajectory was off and what did you do? You said, ‘I’m Hal Jordan, the greatest pilot in the world. Watch my big head crash us on an alien planet where our central battery gets displaced during the impromptu crash land and thrown miles from our position’.”

“Do you want some cheese with all that whine, Bar?” Hal asked, an unimpressed scowl on his face as he illuminated their footpath. “It’s not my fault the orbital windspeeds were faster than the sensors picked up on. Blame the tech, not me.”

“That sounds like you’re just trying to pass off the blame,” he shot back, swiping down at another vine that wriggled like a dying snake and spat out fluorescent blue liquid on the broken end. “Y’know? Like you do best?”

“Seriously, find a better thing to do than complain, Flash. We’ve got bigger fish to fry than blaming each other.”

“Each other? I didn’t do anything! This was all you!” Barry spun on Hal and glared at him.

They glowered at each other when a clicking sound echoed above them and they both jumped a foot in the air, spinning back-to-back as they looked around in every direction, up and down and side to side.

“What the hell was that?” Hal worried.

“I don’t know,” Barry replied, just as concerned. “It sounded like clacking.”

“That did not sound like a chicken.”

“Clacking, Hal, not clucking.”

“Same thing,” he retorted, lifting his arm in the air, shining a bright green light amongst the glowing red treetops. A bunch of branches, neon red leaves and purple flowers, a darting limb—a darting limb?

Hal shifted the light back, jolting Barry’s shoulder in the process. “What is it?”

“There’s something above us,” he whispered, watching with cautious eyes as something shifted on the main branch of the tree, the outline of a dark head coming out, just enough to catch the edge of their bright gold eye. “It’s watching us.”

The something shifted back into cover, the clacking sounding once more, then the treetop ruffled, dropping red and purple fauna on the two men as it jumped to another tree. Hal tried to follow it, but it was too fast for his eyes; the only thing it left behind though was a string of long white webbing, hanging down from the blue tree branch. And Hal being the idiot he was, decided to touch it to see if he could figure out what it was, and only managed to get it all over his hands.

He pouted, trying to pull apart his hands. “It’s sticky.”

Barry let out a long and heavy sigh, placing one hand at the small of his best friend’s back, the other holding the machete. “Come on, dumb-dumb. Let’s go find that thing again.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of how the survivors live? I know we’re white, but I didn’t think we were that white.” He was half tempted to see if he could gnaw the webbing with his teeth. “This shit isn’t coming off.”

“Here,” Barry said, vibrating his hand as fast as he could and to Hal’s surprise, the webbing cut, falling to the ground.

“Thanks!” he chirped, holding his arm out again to shine his ring. “What do you think that thing was?”

“Alien lifeform.”

“No shit, Sherlock. What gave it away? The alien world?”

“I’ve just about had it with you,” Barry growled, cutting through another rough patch of vines. As the path cleared, they stepped out of the heavily forested area to see one older tree in the center of the circle. It rested atop what looked like an ancient cave, the rocks crumbling around the front.

“I’m not going in there,” Hal immediately stated. “You couldn’t pay me all the money the US owes in debt to go in there. Fuck that.”

“You’re such a big baby,” Barry chuckled, walking up to the entrance; it was about the twelve feet high and ten feet wide, big enough for the two of them to walk in. “Come on. It went in here.”

“Barry, please! Why aren’t you more worried about this?” Hal begged. “You should be more worried!”

“Hal, if it wanted to hurt us, it would’ve done so already.”

“Or maybe it’s luring us to our deaths!” he countered, even though he was following Barry into the cave.

There was more webbing along the walls of the cave, swirling around patterns of purple and blue. The farther they walked the stickier it got, and at one point, they were struggling to lift their feet off the cave floor to take the next step.

“Christ, what is this stuff?” Hal asked and Barry bent down, poking at the webbing.

“It’s like spider webbing, but stickier and stronger.” He vibrated his hand to dislodge it from the strings, then did it around Hal’s feet. “You might wanna float for now. I’ll vibrate my feet to keep from sticking.”

“Good idea,” Hal agreed, lifting a few inches off the ground. “Do you think the lifeform is intelligent?”

“Intelligent us or just intelligent?”

“Intelligent us.”

“Anything’s possible. It seemed sentient so I believe it’s probably intelligent.”

“What do you define as intelligent, Barry?” Hal questioned and the forensic scientist hummed.

“If it’s capable of calculus it’s intelligent.”

“Really? If it can do math homework you think it’s worthy?”

“Calculus is a difficult skill. You need the ability to think and to calculate in order to solve and understand it. That requires sentience and intellige—oh shit!” Barry’s words tipped into a yelp as the ground gave way beneath him and he sunk down, shouting all the way.

Hal’s eyes shot wide, and he flew down the hole. “Barry!” he yelled. “Barry where are—oof!” he collided with more of the webbing, this time enough that the entire left side of his body was stuck to it.

“Hal! You okay!”

He looked over, seeing Barry stuck on his back. “I’m okay? You!”

Barry nodded. “I’ve been better. What is this?” they looked around the best they could. Spiral upon spiral of iridescent webbings surrounded them, stuck to the walls for support, them in the center.

Hal’s eyes narrowed and he glowered at Barry. “I fucking told you it was luring us here.”

“Shut u—”

The clacking sounded above them and with panic, they both turned their eyes to the ceiling, watching as the alien lowered down near them. It looked like a human, two arms and two legs, no extra limbs at all. Hell, it didn’t even look like an alien spider; it just looked like a normal human, gazing down at them with two normal eyes. That was until it opened all six of its golden eyes and stared down at them with it’s mouth open, two one-inch fangs protruding from where the canines were.

“Ohshitohshitohshit,” Hal whispered, about to shit himself in terror.

The alien reached for Barry, and he watched as his friend sunk back into the webbing from the outstretched hand. Except he couldn’t go any farther and turned his head to the side, quietly whimpering as the long black claws touched his cheek.

“Barry!” Hal hissed and blue eyes met his, then,

“Friends!” the alien shouted. “New friends for Rhiezheveir to have!”

Their expressions pinched in confusion as the being started to twirl in the air, one hand holding to the webbing they’d lowered down on, the other elegantly flowing in the air.

“You can understand us?” Barry wondered and they looked down.

“Yes!” leaning down, they got in his face, and he saw the rather feminine looking features. “Rhiezheveir saw the ship come in the sky and land! I waited until you left it to search! The ship’s memory functions in this language!” she seemed rather excited. “Rhiezheveir found the core you were looking for! I did not know how to get you here to return it!”

She climbed up the webbing, disappearing quickly only to reappear with the ship’s core under her free arm. “Here it is! Rhiezheveir brought it back!”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Hal inquired and she lowered down next to his face, hers right in front of his.

“Saying what?”

“Rhieza-something-reservoir?”

“Rhiezheveir?” she offered, and he nodded.

“Yeah, that.”

“Rhiezheveir is my name! I am named after the brightest star in the Kosialaran sky!”

“In the what sky?” Barry asked.

“Kosialaran!” she answered. “This planet’s name! My planet!”

“Are there more of you?” Hal questioned. “You’re the only intelligent life we’ve seen besides bloodthirsty beats trying to eat us.”

“Yes, I saw you fight with the Erqurcus. They are not nice lizards. They like to bite Rhiezheveir when she tries to feed them.”

“Why do you refer to yourself in the third person?” Barry piped up. “Sometimes you use first too.”

“In Aissaveed culture, we commonly refer to ourselves in the third, though I learned from watching, that humans use first. Rhiezheveir is learning to mix them.” She smiled and the clacking sounded again.

Hal tried to look at her. “What is that noise?”

Bending down to his face again, she flashed her fangs. “They click when I get excited!”

Barry cleared his throat. “Um, Rhiezheveir, are there more of your kind in the area?”

“Not here. On the other side of the planet there is. Rhiezheveir has travelled far to get away from her people’s hunters. They do not like me.”

“How come?”

“Rhiezheveir broke tradition. Refused to be royal consort. Fled and hid here.” She let the tips of her toes touch the delicate silk webbing and then crouched, the web bouncing lightly with the weight. “Rhiezheveir is not welcome amongst her people anymore. I am alone now.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Barry murmured, even empathetical of the alien. “You’re here all alone?”

“Yes! Though not anymore!” she patted both Hal and Barry’s thighs. “New friends!”

Hal wiggled. “I hate to break it to you, Reservoir, but—”

“Rhiezheveir,” she corrected, and he sighed.

“Rhiezheveir. But we have to get back to our own planet. We have responsibilities.”

Barry nodded. “We need to get back to our ship.” he tugged against the webbing. “Can you help us get out of this? We’re stuck.”

“Of course!” she chirped, starting to snip the webbing with her claws.

“Wait a second!” Hal exclaimed. “There’s nothing underneath meAHHHHH!” the last thread snapped, and Hal tumbled down the dark and dimly lit cavern.

“Rhiezheveir!” Barry yelled. “What are you doing!”

She held up a finger in a wait motion, then a wet plop sounded, followed by, “NEVERMIND! I’M OKAY! THIS WATER SMELLS FUNNY THOUGH!”

The Speedster sighed. “Oh, there’s water down there.”

She looked at Barry oddly. “Rhiezheveir would not try to kill her new friends. That is not nice.” Snipping the lines around him, she held on as he fell and she let out a squeal as they dropped, though as Barry hit the water, she merely held on to the web in her hand, just above the body.

Barry broke the water and spit out the remaining in his mouth. “Water tastes funny too.”

Hal rolled his eyes. “Rhiezheveir, how do we get out of here?”

She smiled. “Follow me!” she shot out her free hand and another string of webbing left her hand, attaching to the roof of the cavern; letting go with her other hand, she swung like a monkey on a vine, then repeated the process, alternating her hands. And boy she was fast. Barry and Hal had to freehand like they were in the Olympics to keep up, and even then, it wasn’t fast enough.

***

By the time they made it back to the ship, their hair and clothes had dried off. They noticed that she didn’t like to be on the ground and crawled along the tree limbs above them. Bioluminescent flower petals shook from the branches every time she moved, creating an aura of beautiful red and purple around them.

Barry took the battery from her and slot it back into place, watching as they ship powered back to life; he walked over to Hal who was sitting in the first seat. “Everything good?”

Hal nodded. “A few nicks here and there, but the engine and all other vital systems are good.” He looked up. “We should be good to go once the power levels reach operational.”

The Speedster smiled and turned to her. “Well, Rhiezheveir, this is goodbye.”

She merely blinked. “What do you mean goodbye? I am coming with you.”

“There’s not enough room,” Hal said, and she smiled, those fangs clacking as she raised her arms.

“I will make myself small!” her dark body illuminated in a bright gold, then the shape began to shrink and shift, eight long legs appearing out of the main shape that had evolved into two orb like shapes. When the glow dispersed, she raised her front legs and waved, then skittered up Barry’s leg and body to his head.

“I have a spider on my head.” He said dumbly. “I have an alien spider nuzzling my hair.” Barry looked at Hal. “There’s a spider in my hair.”

Hal shrugged. “So long as it stays on you, we’re good.” He peered at her. “Rhiezheveir, can you understand us in there?”

She waved her front legs as Barry climbed into the ship, sitting on his seat; she scurried down his head to his shoulder and sat there, perfectly balanced, her beady golden eyes occasionally blinking.

“That’s a big ass spider,” Hal noted.

“She reminds me of a Goliath birdeater.”

“A what now?”

“Goliath birdeater. It’s the biggest spider on earth.” He examined her. “But her legs are so long…like a huntsman spiders’. I wonder if she’s got the abilities of different species?”

Barry reached up, holding out his hand and she climbed on it, letting him lower her to his lap. “Can you sit there while we take off, Rhiezheveir? Once were out of atmosphere, you can wander around the cockpit.”

All she merely did was raise her front legs and wave them once more before settling on his thighs, curling her legs in contently; he smiled down at her, then the realization of what bringing her meant and he blurted out, “I have no idea how we’re going to explain this to the others.”

“What do you mean?” Hal questioned.

Barry looked at him. “The crash land will be easy—you’re an idiot.” He ignored Hal’s outcry of offense and gestured to her. “How do we explain we picked up a shapeshifting spider…lady?”

Hal shrugged. “Hostile environment navigated by a peaceful intelligent lifeform who managed to be a stowaway?”

“I like the first half up until ‘who’.” Barry met his gaze. “She was threatened by her own people and begged to help her flee?”

The pilot pursed his lips. “We’ll need to use her reasoning for leaving. The whole royal consort business.”

“Sounds good.” Barry glanced down at her. “Rhiezheveir, does that sound—oh…I think she’s asleep.”

Hal looked down to Barry’s lap and sure enough, the hand-sized spider wasn’t moving on his legs other than the occasional leg twitch. “Sure she didn’t die?”

“Hal!” Barry hissed. “Don’t be mean!” he gently scratched her the top of her abdomen with his pointer finger.

“You’ve pack-bonded with a spider,” Hal noted. “Nice job, buddy.”

“Oh, come on. Like you don’t find her friendly.”

“She’s a spider.”

“She’s an alien who turns into a spider.” He watched the planet get smaller and smaller as they exited the orbit and into the stars. “Bruce isn’t going to be happy that we brought an alien back.”

“I think the pressing matter is that we have no idea what she eats.”

“Bugs?”

“You said she was an alien who turns into a spider, Bar. What’s she going to eat when she’s human…like?”

“Meat?” Barry wiggled his fingers in Hal’s side. “Man-flesh.”

Hal choked on a laugh, batting at the hand against his ribs. “Stop that.” He steered the ship through a debrief field with ease. “We’d better figure out or she’ll eat somebody in the middle of a fight.”

“In a fight?” Barry asked.

Hal shot him a look. “We didn’t take this Lady Spider with us just to get her off her home-world. She’s gonna help out somewhere.” He shrugged. “Might as well stick her in the Justice League.”

Barry’s lips pulled satisfactory. “That’s…actually a good idea.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to show her to Bruce. You know he doesn’t like spiders?”

“He’s scared of spiders?”

“I didn’t say he was scared of them, Hal. He just doesn’t like them. I think creepy crawlies make his skin crawl.”

Hal shoved him in the arm. “Don’t call her creepy crawly. She’s a pretty spider.”

“What happened to making fun of her?” Barry smirked. “You pack-bonded with the pretty alien spider lady, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” Hal griped, going still when she shifted and crawled up the dash of the ship and stared out the window; she turned, waving her front legs. “Yeah Rhiezheveir? What is it?”

She pointed to the stars, drawing her front legs in downward arcs as if to say, “Wow!”

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Barry murmured and she did it again; he looked curiously at her. “Hey Rhiezheveir, you can understand us, right?”

She waved.

“Okay. Since you can’t talk to us until we get back, how about this—front legs up is ‘yes’ and front legs down is ‘no’. Do you understand?”

She lifted her legs up and he grinned.

“Good. Now, do you like warm places?”

Her legs went up, then down.

“Sort of?”

Up.

“You like warm and cool weather?”

Up.

“We’re going back to our world. There’re many habitats there. Some really hot and really cold. Others are in the middle.” He explained, watching her almost nod. “We’ll be meeting the group Hal and I work with on another ship. You’ll have to stay there for the time being. Is that okay?”

She lifted her legs up.

Hal leaned over. “Rhiezheveir, are you a spider that sometimes turns into a lady?”

Her legs stayed down.

“So, you’re a lady that sometimes turns into a spider?”

Up.

“Nice. Can you fight?”

Up and waving wildly.

Barry looked at Hal then back to her. “You said you refused the position of royal consort. Were you chosen because you could fight?”

Up.

“So, you escaped because you didn’t want to be forced into that position?”

Still up.

Barry nodded solemnly. “Rest assured, Rhiezheveir, you won’t be forced into anything like that on Earth. You’ll be free and able to live openly and not in hiding.”

Her legs stilled in the air, then the curled and Hal muttered, “I think you overwhelmed her emotionally.”

The Speedster cupped the spider in his hands, letting her crawl back into his lap. “Sorry, Rhiezheveir. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She merely snuggled into his lap and stayed there.

“Rhiezheveir,” Hal started. “Your name is really complicated for humans to say. While I think it would be a good identity for a superhero life, I think you should find an easier name for people to use.”

She waved a single leg, signaling she was listening.

“How about (Y/N)?”

Barry smiled. “Ooo, I like (Y/N). That’s a pretty name.”

She raised her front legs and waved them excitedly.

“I think Rhiezheveir likes it too.” He scratched her torso. “Welcome to the Justice League (Y/N). You’re gonna fit in perfectly.”

(Y/N) waved her front legs, rearing up on her back.

“HOLY FUCK LOOK AT THE SIZE OF HER FANGS!” Hal shouted.

[kyuuppi]

“You lie to your best friend/crush that you have an OnlyFans just to see their reaction”

Ft. Sugawara; Nishinoya; Tsukishima; Oikawa; Kenma

Pt. 2

A/N: My bias is so obvious here LOL

KARASUNO

↳ Sugawara

➣  You are over at his house, the two of you idly watching a sitcom while browsing your phones and chatting in between; it’s comfortable, as times with Sugawara usually are.

➣  Every time Suga leans in to show you a funny meme on his phone or throws his head back in laughter at a joke from the show, you find your heart skipping a beat.

➣  He is beautiful, basically an angel in your eyes, but he is also your best friend and you don’t think he has any interest in you like that. Not in the way you do. 

➣  That’s how you get the idea to test his feelings. 

➣  Being the troublemaker you are (how else would you and Suga get along so well?) you decide to shake things up by casually mentioning you’re interested in starting an OnlyFans and asking if he thinks its a good idea. 

➣  You expect either of two reactions: either he’ll be as supportive as usual, possibly advising you to be cautious with strangers online like the mother hen he is, proving he only sees you as a friend—or he’ll tell you not to, possible evidence that likes you.

➣  The response you receive is not quite what you were expecting...

➣  Once the words leave your lips his head immediately whips around in your direction, light brown eyes looking at you with a serious expression on his face, something you’d never really seen before. It makes you uncomfortable and you begin to regret all of your life decisions.

➣  Suddenly though, he is leaning into you, his arms coming up to trap you against the couch as you try to back away. Your eyes are as wide as saucers and face completely flushed as he continues to stare you down before speaking.

➣  “Even though I’m your best friend, I’m still a man, you know. You’re being awfully cruel right now.”

➣ You audibly gulp, suddenly feeling light-headed but he keeps speaking, close enough that you can feel his hot breath fan across your cheeks.

➣ “Asking me to watch the person I like show off in front of thousands of other men? Even I have my limits.”

➣ And that marks the day of you and Sugawara’s first kiss. ♡

↳ Nishinoya

➣  Your best friend, Nishinoya Yuu, is notoriously unabashed with his affections. 

➣ The two of you have an interesting relationship—Noya has no qualms with expressing how pretty he thinks you are, borderline flirting with you at times, and you frequently return the favor. 

➣  But you don’t take any of it seriously, of course, regardless of how much you secretly wish it were real. Everyone at Karasuno knows about Noya’s undying dedication to the volleyball club manager, Shimizu Kiyoko, and he confesses his love to her at least twice a day. 

➣ Unbeknownst to you those professions became less and less frequent after he met you and now most of Karasuno thinks the two of you are basically dating

➣ The two of you are at the mall, a frequent hang out place where Noya can look at volleyball gear and you can browse manga at the bookstore, when you get the idea to prank your friend.

➣ “Hey, Noya? I’ve been thinking about finding a way to make more money but I don’t have time for a part-time job so I decided to make an OnlyFans—I already have a few subscribers.”

➣ Nishinoya nearly trips and falls flat on his face. You would have laughed if it weren’t for how he immediately grabs at your shoulders, staring at you with a mix of anger and fear. 

➣ “Absolutely not! No one should be allowed to see your beautiful body like that but me!”

➣ You immediately fluster at his loud declaration, acutely aware of how other customers in the mall are giving the two of your strange looks as they walk by. 

➣ “B-but Noya, we aren’t even dating—”

➣ “Then let’s start dating!” 

➣ And what are you gonna do? Say no?

↳ Tsukishima

➣ Being friends with Tsukishima could be frustrating at times—a sentiment you and Yamaguchi frequently discuss when the blond isn’t around. 

➣ Tsukishima likes to think most things are beneath him and he’s too cool to find enjoyment in activities most other friends enjoy, ranging from mini golf to video games. The man seems content to waste his life away studying and listening to music if it weren’t for you and Yamaguchi forcing him out of his room. 

➣ Naturally, something like a prank war would be something Tsukishima would want no part of—not that that has ever stopped you. 

➣ Usually, your pranks are failures. Either Tsukishima easily figures out what you’re doing before it can happen or he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of a reaction, chastising you for wasting your time pulling pranks when you have a failing grade in mathematics you’ll later beg him to help you study for.

➣ He still helps you though, he’s whipped

➣ Your newest prank however, you feel exceptionally confident in. Not only is it simple to pull off, only relying on your acting kills, but it also might answer your curiosity on whether you have a chance in getting your dearest Tsukki to see you as more than just a friend.

➣ The day you decide to do it the three of you are hanging out in Tsukishima’s bedroom as usual, you working on the math homework Tsukishima forced you to study while he reads a book and Yamaguchi sits in the corner reading a book.

➣ You had already discussed your plans with Yama beforehand, to which his expression looked suspiciously devious, like he knew something you didn’t know, as he proclaimed his support. 

➣ You hear Tsukishima turning a page and decide to speak up. 

➣ “Hey, Tsukki, have you heard of OnlyFans?”

➣ You hold back a snicker as you see Tsukishima visibly tense, his eyes widening behind his glasses for a moment before he relaxes. From the corner of your eyes you can see Yamaguchi smirking behind his comic, watching the blond closely. 

➣ “...yeah, I’ve heard of it,” Tsukishima simply replies. 

➣ “I’ve been thinking about making more money but I don’t have time for a part-time job so my friend suggested it. She said I could make over ten thousand yen a month.”

➣ “I think only the really attractive ones make that much.”

➣ You gasp, thoroughly offended, and Yamaguchi looks mildly annoyed by his friend’s response, already opening his mouth to chastise him for being so mean—but before he can say anything, Tsukishima is speaking again, still looking down at the book in his lap. 

➣ “Don’t do it though.” 

➣ “Why not?” You pout, refusing to look up at him when you speak. 

➣ “...I don’t want the person I like to do those types of things.” 

➣ You nearly choke on your own saliva, head darting up to stare at him in disbelief. Yamaguchi, for some reason, only smiles softly, looking unsurprised by the admission. 

➣ “W-what? You...like me?”

➣ “Oi, shouldn’t you be studying? One more F and you’re gonna flunk out of the class, dummy.”

➣ You’re slightly disappointed by the change of subject but when you notice the soft pink on Tsukishima’s cheeks you can’t help but to smile the whole time you finish your homework.

AOBA JOUSAI

↳ Oikawa

➣ Oikawa is a busy guy.

➣ You were well aware of that before the two of you happened to be paired up for an assignment and got to know each other, eventually becoming close friends. 

➣ Between volleyball practices, tournaments, magazine interviews, and appeasing a passionate fan club, Oikawa rarely has time for himself, let alone another person. 

➣ Despite all of that, you could tell he always made sure to spend time with you, dedicating a few weekends a month to hanging out, just the two of you, and constantly texting you in the times the two of you couldn’t physically be together. 

➣ From an outsider’s perspective, it was almost like the two of you were dating. 

➣ But alas, you know the sad reality is that Oikawa is most certainly not your boyfriend and you have no idea if he has any interest in your like that…

➣ ...Which is why you decide to try to make him jealous one day to push him towards confessing his feelings, if they exist. 

➣ The two of you are at a café, sipping lattes and gossiping about other students when you bring it up. 

➣ “Y’know...I’ve been thinking of making an OnlyFans.”

➣ To your surprise, Oikawa’s eyes seem to light up, his lips curving into a smile of excitement. 

➣ “Wow, really? Maybe I should make one too!”

➣ Oikawa immediately pulls out his cell phone and the color drains from your face as you realize your plan has completely backfired. 

➣ “My fans are going to love this—hey do you think we can do a collab? The two of us in one pic would make us top creators for sure.”

➣ You can only nod numbly with a fake smile at Oikawa’s enthusiasm.

➣ Oh god, you’ve created a monster…

NEKOMA

↳ Kozume

➣ Unless you’re Kuroo, becoming friends with Kenma is a nearly impossible feat. Actually making him want to spend time with you alone, even more so. 

➣ But somehow, you managed to work your way into Kenma’s tightly knit social circle more like a two point line segment of him and Kuroo and your evenings after his volleyball practice are usually spent in one of your bedrooms, playing Splatoon and Animal Crossing until your Switches die or your parents force you to come home for dinner—whichever comes first. 

➣ You love spending time with Kenma, his quiet presence somehow making you feel comfortable—but over time those feelings of ease have shifted into something more akin to nervousness and excitement as you’ve come to develop a crush on the setter.

➣ Every moment with him, watching the small smiles tug at his lips when he wins a match or his cute, frustrated pout when he can’t figure out how to defeat a boss makes your heart flutter and it’s becoming more and more painful to idly sit by without expressing your feelings.

➣ A direct confession, especially to a boy with nearly 0 social skills, is scary, so you want to be sure your feelings are returned before you even attempt to share them. 

➣ Thus, you’ve decided to take Kuroo’s advice.

➣ “Push him into a corner. Kenma will only act when he thinks he has to.” 

➣ You take a deep breath to steel your nerves before you speak, eying him sneakily from behind your Switch. 

➣ “Gamer girls and boys are kind of trendy these days; I’m thinking about starting an OnlyFans to make money to buy more games.”

➣ The only visible response you receive is a slow blink as Kenma continues to play his game, fingers tapping furiously on the keys. 

➣ “Ah...I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

➣ “Why not?”

➣ There are a few moments of silence between you two, the room only filled with the SFX of your games as Kenma seems to finish his round. You recognize the victory music as Kenma pauses to finally raise his gaze to meet your own. 

➣ “It's your body so I can’t tell you what to do but...I would feel really jealous of all your subscribers.”

➣ And just like that, Kenma returns his attention to the video game, unpausing and starting a new match, blissfully unaware of you struggling to calm your racing heart and flushed cheeks. 

[ripgray-moved]

           olivia's touch makes him prickle, but she's ultimately right. if he keeps being stubborn and insisting on making his own way, they're going to still be here when the rest of the cult catches up with amon's reckless advances. for this reason, peter lets her lead him away, his meagre weight half supported by her urgent grip.

            he grunts with effort as they drag themselves back across town and up the steep steps that lead to their designated rooftop. he'd been against this idea in the first place, but now... now he's never been quite so grateful to have such a solid vantage point. at the very least, he knows that as soon as he flops down on that blanket and gives in to his weakness, they'll at least have nothing to worry about in the way of deadheads.

           even so, he's hesitant to collapse there; does so only out of sheer exhaustion. between the terror and the physical exertion that comes with dragging his beaten body across town, peter had been powerless to resist the ground's pull.

            "no painkillers," he murmurs. that much he won't budge on. since quitting everything cold turkey over a decade ago, peter has been extremely cautious about the drugs he puts back into his body; and not only because he feels intimidated by their hypothetical reintroduction. no, he's worried about the possible elation he'll experience after over ten years of having not so much as an over-the-counter tablet. he may very well have conquered addiction— through sheer force of will no less— but he knows better than to assume that demon will ever truly die. in fact, he knows it won't, on account of how much he STILL craves a blunt from time to time. "it's... it feels okay. the pain is okay. i'll sleep it off. it's okay."

           or at least it is in comparison to what he expected to happen to him. when he thinks about amon's dreadful fate, suddenly his own bruised skin doesn't feel quite so sore.

           water is always appreciated, though. as he withdraws a lukewarm bottle from olivia's backpack and hesitantly unscrews the cap, all he can hope is that the very reluctant engagement with her gear will placate her. it doesn't feel right to be fussed over; he never was in the before-times and he's not about to get comfortable with it in the after. not when naivete in the new world could very well cost him his life.

           what can he even tell her about what that was? introducing the cult to people is like trying to bring up a dead relative; taboo, most certainly should not be done, and kind of impossible to explain even in the event that he would want to. as he attempts to get comfortable upon the hard concrete, his bottle of water still clutched in one hand, peter worries his bottom lip with his teeth.

          "i dunno, i guess some people just... fuck with things. things they don't get." he rubs his head. makes a show of it, really. "...i don't really remember much. just being scared."

           he's uncomfortable at the idea of being apologised to, even if part of him deserves it. he's uncomfortable because to accept it, he has to first admit that he was bothered in the first place, and maybe he doesn't want to give her that power. only... he probably handed that over when he stormed off, didn't he? it was an ill-conceived plan of action for sure.

           in fact, it was unusually stupid for somebody of his survival smarts. his brow furrows suspiciously as he thinks about it, though doing so for longer than three seconds causes his head to throb. screwing his eyes shut, peter turns his face into the ground and lets the cold, hard concrete seep through the thin blanket. against all odds, it's about the most pleasant surface for his aching head right now, its brilliantly unyielding sturdiness good for grinding his forehead against. it sincerely helps, more than he thought it would even.

            "...it's okay. i was a moron back there, too." he was. stating a fact doesn't make him feel too naked. "i need to try and get a bit of sleep. i know it's dumb to stay here but it's not like i can get very far as i feel anyways. at least this spot has a good view of the city. we'll... you'll see 'em coming from a mile away." since he assumes she'll keep watch while he tries to rest. he adjusts somewhat, a quiet heave of relief exhaled against thin cotton. "don't let me sleep past sunrise. at first light, we should get the fuck outta here."

Try as Olivia may, there’s no making sense of what’s just happened.

While she’s seen her fair share of crazy fucking shit — because really, who the hell hasn’t at this point unless they’ve been living under a goddamned rock — watching some kind of other-worldly creature suck out someone’s….soul? Life essence?

Yeah, that wasn’t exactly an every-day sort of thing. Not even during the end of the world.

❝ Hey — yeah, yeah, it’s me. We have to go, Pete, come on. ❞

The fire across from them crackles, the heat from it already increasing in intensity; they need to get out of here, and soon, or they’re going to end up no different than the walkers they’ve had to set fire to. 

                Where is he?

So, whatever that thing was — Peter knows him. 

(Okay, that’ll have to be a question for later, because what the actual fuck is going on?)

❝ Don’t be fucking stupid, Pete. We’ll move faster if you let me help. ❞ Despite the words, Liv’s tone is gentle, the fear of nearly losing him driving her forward; immediately does she take one of his arms and sling it over her shoulder, supporting as much of his weight as she can while they make their way out of the clearing.

Away from the fire. Away from the nightmare.

❝ Hey, you can’t sleep on me yet, alright? We gotta’ wait until we get up the stairs to the roof at least. ❞ She can’t be sure what injuries he’d sustained before her arrival — while she’d followed his attackers as fast as possible, she’d still needed to be careful; her dying wouldn’t exactly help him get out of that place.

Though after seeing what she has, that thought seems incorrect. 

Something had protected Peter — but what?

❝ I have painkillers in my bag, ❞ it’s offered while they make their way back up to the roof, each step more difficult than the last; Peter isn’t heavy, but watching out for Walkers and trying to keep Peter upright isn’t exactly a trivial task.

By some miracle, she only has to put down one stray Walker on their way up to their safe haven, a straggler from their earlier encounter — and christ, thank fuck they’d cleared this place earlier.

❝ Come on — come on, here. ❞ Olivia’s not taking any of his bullshit refusals, already helping him onto one of the blankets she’d left behind; it’s not like her to leave supplies, but seeing the person she’s been traveling with getting grabbed like that?

Yeah, sue her, but the blanket hadn’t been a priority. 

❝ You scared the shit out of me. ❞ It feels safer now to speak, though her trembling fingers give away some of her anxiety. ❝ Pete…what exactly just happened back there? You asked where ‘he’ was. Who is he? ❞

What is he?

As her question hangs, Olivia makes quick work of assessing some of his injuries, the fire from earlier providing some degree of warmth as she begins to rifle through her backpack.

❝ You don’t have to answer now. It’s…fuck, you’re probably in pain, so...here. Go through my bag and take what you need, okay? Painkillers, water, applesauce…whatever you want. You can have it. ❞

The bag is passed to him then, firmly pressed into his hands and held there until it's finally accepted; she can always gather more supplies, but there won't be a way to replace him.

                        You’re getting soft, Fulbright.

❝ I’m…uh. I’m sorry. About earlier. I don’t…I don’t know why I was so mad. Still don’t. And it all just kind of came pouring out. ❞

This has never been her area of expertise; for as long as Olivia has been alive, pretending to be okay — and, whenever possible, not admitting fault — were rules of her well-traveled, shitty road.

Survival has never favored softies.

So what the fuck are you doing then, Liv?