#so far the pain has mostly been minimal

[potsiefaerie]

Dear Universe in general and anyone friendly and listening and capable in specific:

I would really really like it if the office worker who handles prior auths at my neuro's office could get to mine on Monday or Tuesday at the latest.

Thanks,

A migraineur who is sick of this shit

[actual-lea]

So who wants to hear about the stupid stupid way I'm playing Baldur's Gate 3?

I made it to Act 3 on my first (original character) playthrough like a week before Patch 5 came out, and after finding it absolutely unplayable (on the PS5) decided it was time to go ahead and start an origin character run for the funsies while waiting on the new patch to fix the Lag Hell. Naturally, I picked Gale. Since this was mostly just for fun/to hold me over until I could continue my other file, I decided it would be a nice time to see what happens if you just refuse to consume any magic items. Of course, if you are not playing as Gale and ignore his Orb Problem, he will apparently eventually leave your party, but what if you ARE Gale? I couldn't find an answer with a minimal amount of Googling SO

There are three stages to his Arcane Hunger, each of which give you increasingly debilitating debuffs: Arcane Hunger, Greater Arcane Hunger, and Severe Arcane Hunger. It seems the triggers for progressing to the next stage are the same as the triggers where he would start needing an item in my other file (i.e. that bridge next to the Blighted Village, entering the temple at the Goblin Camp, the Hag's Lair, etc.) which obviously makes sense. I figure with the amount of contingencies in this game for incredibly specific situations, surely there is some kind of unique dialog or fun cutscene that will play if I ignore the Arcane Hunger long enough and just play through the debuffs.

I played Act 1 completely normally, doing a lil quicksave every time I was about to Long Rest just in case the game gave me a cutscene of the big explosion upon waking up (I thought maybe it would be time-based, similar to the game over you get if Gale dies and you leave him for 3 days (? I think?) which does not seem to be the case). I made it through basically everything without anything odd happening besides the aforementioned debuffs. The Severe Arcane Hunger is where things get really sloggy, because Gale can only move at half speed.

I have been slowly trudging EVERYWHERE since the Goblin Camp.

I eventually started going out of my way to make sure I hit all the Arcane Hunger triggers I know about, to see what would happen, and the answer is nothing, aside from Gale occasionally reminding me that he's wracked with terrible pain.

So, surely, the game will certainly not let me into the Mountain Pass without SOMETHING happening, right?

WELL

That's surprising, but whatever, at least now I have the chance to see what happens if you go meet Elminster without having consumed any magic items,

Except

He wasn't there.

I went to the area in the Mountain Pass where the cutscene is supposed to start, and it just. Didn't happen. Nothing happened. I could walk right up to the entrance to the next area.

But SURELY, the game won't let me into the gotdamn Shadow-Cursed Lands without saying SOMETHING about the fact that the orb has been starving for several weeks at this point, right? The game isn't going to let me into Act Freaking 2 without at the very least giving me a game over to tell me I'm not allowed to do this and make me reload and actually feed this poor starving wizard, right?

RIGHT?

WELL

WELL

Here we are. I'm at the Last Light Inn, I'm at the Taco Bell, I'm at the combination Last Light Inn Taco Bell with a bag full of delicious Cheesy Gordita Magic Boots that I refuse to eat.

SO LIKE. How far does this go??? Am I gonna be able to infiltrate Moonrise Towers without ever speaking to Elminster? Am I gonna trudge all the way to Ketheric at half freaking speed and fight him with Disadvantage on everything?? Am I gonna make it all the way to goddang Baldur's Gate with a Netherese orb that is long overdue to explode???

Like I said, I did not find an answer on what happens if you do this on a Gale Origin playthrough, and at this point, I don't even want to, I just want to see how far I can take this.

I already know I'll have to do another normal Gale playthrough where I actually FEED HIM after this, because I'm sure I've missed out on a ton of dialogue and whatnot, especially from Tara who only ever has this to say when I speak with her in camp:

I am genuinely beginning to wonder if there is actually nothing in place to stop me from doing this. I am wondering what the dialogue options will look like when I get to the "Heart of the Absolute" where Gale would ordinarily want to blow himself up, if Elminster had ever shown up to tell him to do so. Maybe the devs just didn't bother, and figured that no one would be stupid and stubborn enough to play through the whole dang thing while so severely debuffed.

Joke's on them, Disadvantage means NOTHING to Magic Missile Machine Gale Dekarios.

[pillarsalt]

hi um

I was? transmasc but recently I’ve been seeing a lot of really misogynistic sexist transphobic stuff from trans community and it’s just been totally accepted, even by other transmascs. It’s been going on for a while but recently there was a murder of a nonbinary afab person and yet the whole trans community here has been silent, instead screaming about a transfem user being banned or something? This isn’t the first time an afab trans persons suffering has been dismissed, but now right after this awful death, i see transfems making posts about how transmascs talking about their oppression are terfs.

I didn’t want to think about it but all i could think about was that it was weird how despite everyone claiming trans men have all this privilege, trans women always come first…they get the most representation, they get the fame the admiration and the opportunities, their voices are always the loudest and their problems always always come first no matter what.

But despite popular belief trans men’s issues aren’t actually less significant, in some cases we suffer far more than trans women especially in regard to sexual violence. Yet we are silenced. We are frequently left poor, we are discriminated against for our sex we are discriminated against for being trans we are discriminated against for being perceived as lesbians. Yet we are made to be silent?

Why are our voices less important than trans women’s?

And all I could think about was that this is how females are treated in every other area.

I don’t know what else to say… I tried so hard not to reach that conclusion because I don’t want to be transmysogynist but I kept coming back to it and I couldn’t find an argument against it. This is how females are treated. This is what male privilege look like. And if trans women have male privilege, then why the fuck am I sitting here letting them talk over me?

I just feel really really angry. Your a blog who I liked your art but I blocked you when I discovered you were a radfem, but I sort of had you in the back of my mind for some reason and now I feel lost and confused, and I don’t think I want to be part of the trans community anymore.

Hey anon, firstly I really appreciate your willingness to have an open discussion with me. This must be weighing on you pretty heavily.

Secondly, holy shit, you're right. While the entire website is treating this user's ban as a national travesty, I haven't seen a single person talking about Nex's murder despite how much they claim to care about trans people. That's really fucking low, and this situation does very much encapsulate the state of misogyny within the trans community.

And you're right, this IS how females are treated in every other area. Throughout history, the suffering and injustice women face is minimized, laughed at, ignored, and when we want to talk about it, we're shut down and told we're making people uncomfortable and our pain isn't that bad. And here we are again, with a female person's death outweighed by a male person's inconvenience.

The denial of sex-based oppression that permeates trans spaces is a blatant lie that can only be held together if nobody is allowed to acknowledge it, and those who do are punished. If the trans community truly stood behind what they say, discussion would be encouraged! The foundation of their movement would be backed up with facts and replicable science! But instead, they'll call you a bigot for pointing out systems of oppression you can see with your own eyes. Because if you do, transwomen's position as Most Oppressed, and therefore the final authority on what's right and wrong, collapses. You are correct when you say that it seems like transwomen always come first; I don't remember who said it first, but just look at magazine covers featuring trans people -- the transwomen are fully clothed CEOs, athletes, movie stars, but transmen mostly get on magazine covers for... being pregnant and half naked. Misogyny is built into every society on earth, and individuals simply calling themselves something else doesn't change that. And when you give male people free reign to be as misogynistic as they want without consequence, they'll grab that opportunity and hold on like their lives depend on it. The way they weaponize transmen's sex against them is indistinguishable from what 'cis' men do to 'cis' women, but if you ever speak out about it, somehow YOU'RE the one hurting THEM. They do not want transmascs to find solidarity with other female people, because then they would have to face the reality of their own place in a patriarchal world, and face the fact that there are experiences exclusive to female people and that we have the right to speak about it. I mean you see shit like this and the motives become completely transparent:

I do find it funny how hard the trans community and their allies work to prevent anyone from hearing what radfems have to say in case they "corrupt" you with mere words. A lot of the time, it's simply listening to transwomen themselves that sparks the feeling of "something's not right here" in your brain. That's what happened with me too. I'll tell you that most of us also used to be proponents of trans activism, many formerly identifying as trans too. You are seeing through manipulation, and I know it's quite shocking to realize. Even when I first started having doubts about trans rhetoric, I thought "well everyone else agrees about this, so I need to shut up and be nice about it even if I don't agree." It's an unpleasant place to be in. The cognitive dissonance is exhausting though, and it becomes impossible to ignore.

The mistreatment of transmasc people in the trans community by transfems is brutal, and It's hard to watch from the outside because I just want to say "Hey, you know you don't have to take this shit, right?" And you really don't. You are not at all a bad person for recognizing the frankly absurd amount of misogyny in the trans community. Feeling lost and confused is shitty, but it's normal for this situation. The best thing you can do is keep observing, keep reading, form your own opinions, and never let anyone tell you to shut up. Above all, prioritize yourself and your mental wellbeing. If you need to remove yourself from gender-related spaces and discussion for a while, that's totally alright. Just know you're not evil or a bigot for not blindly agreeing with everything the trans community has told you. Your opinions and experiences are worthwhile too.

[graylinesspam]

I picked her up like a stray cat.

Down an alley way, getting beaten by other people, just because they could. Mean and ruthless, that's the way many have become since the collapse.

I could have kept walking past. I'm not sure why I didn't. Maybe I'm just nice like that. Or maybe I'd just seen too many people getting hasted that day.

Whatever the reason, I knocked those goons heads together. Just cause I could.

I didn't expect nothing out of her. Figured she'd just stand there and let me pass, or maybe run away. But she didn't.

I took one step and she followed. All the way out of the alley. Down six streets and through til the hold came into view.

we weren't at capacity yet. The leader had been letting us bring "companions" in and out. I guess they assumed they were like some kind of comfort women or something.

I could have stopped her. Turned her away at any point. But I kinda wanted to see what she'd do. Why she'd followed.

I didn't have anything worth stealing. Or enough enemies to assume she'd slit my throat in my sleep. So I let her crawl into the little cornered off space that was my my rack.

She just sat down on the rug.

She was quiet. I don't think she spoke my language.

That suited me just fine.

She ate when I ate. Slept when I slept. Even showered next to me in those moldy fucking showers they were providing us with.

She never wandered more than a few feet from my side. Went out on assignment with me. I stuck to mostly mining work. Nothing far underground. Just scrapping metal ores out of the dirt.

It took her two weeks of watching to understand the process. She gathered too. Not much. Enough to cover a second set of meals though.

Her hands cracked and broke up under the labor. But still, she never spoke.

I'd guessed by that point she was only looking for safety. Maybe she thought if she stuck beside me, I'd protect her.

From the others of her kind, sure, I suppose. But I'm nothing impressive by the standards of my own species. Labor has made my hand hard and strong but I was below average in other physical aspects.

I couldn't exactly explain that to her.

She was a little like a pet in the way she was silent and minimal. But there was something observant in her eyes as well.

She began detecting ore lines better than my scanning equipment could. Whenever the rain came down, she'd sniff the air like she could smell the metal in the air, and lead me to another line.

It was a beneficial enough partnership. She earned her keep and a little extra in those first months. Enough that I purchased her a mat to lay down on that old rug. Keep her from sleeping on the floor.

But it wasn't long before I learned how wrong I was about our arrangement.

I hadn't been making too much of a profit before she came along. Then she was there and I was more focused on feeding her than thinking about how all her credits were in my name.

Some other lads from the guild thought I had more than my fair share and broke into my end of the barracks to redistribute it. I had been asleep, startled awake by the door slamming open.

There was two of them. I couldn't get up fast enough before they had me pinned to the rack. There were other minors in the racks across from me, but they minded their own business while I took blows to my abdomen.

But the little human? I thought she'd ran to find safety else where. But she'd climbed up onto the desk beside us, bunched herself at the knees and flew through the air toward the bastard holding me down.

Her dull little teeth latched onto the back of his bald head, her claws raking over his face. One finger sunk into his eye socket and the pain yanked him back far away from me.

I grabbed the other one by his hair, slammed his head into the wall until he dropped.

When I turned to her she had rolled across the floor closer to me, crouched and staring at the other one. He was holding his bloody face, empty socked filling with blood.

Evidently an eye was more than he had planned to lose to me, he took his pride with him and fled.

I'd heard tell that humans were loyal but those were the clean well kept one from the star ships. I didn't think a back alley stray had the same kindness in them.

Well, maybe it wasn't kindness. But it was good enough for me.

She slept in the rack after that.

[random-introverted-blog]

No More [Selunite!Shadowheart x F!Reader/Tav]

NOTE: THIS IS A CONTINUATION OF FLICKERS OF LOSS. Yes, I did it, thank AO3 you cowards.

Honestly, I planned more but like where it ended too much to drag it out [sandcastles next time?]

Continuation/Part 3 - Shadows of Shar

Intended Audience: Mature [it gets a teeny bit questionable but that's why the teens will ignore this rating anyway]

Who be smoochin?: Shadowheart x F!Reader/Tav (I got tired of y/n, broke my writing immersion)

The Bit: It's been a month since Selunite!Shadowheart and you escaped DarkJusticiar!Shadowheart. You haven't been sleeping well, and are struggling to adjust. It doesn't help that the wound she left on your hand, binding you to her, still torments you. Or the nightmares you have nearly every time you lay down. Or that you have few memories of your prior life with Selunite!Shadowheart to guide you.

Warnings/Advisories: Fluffy hurt comfort. You're going through it, lingering Stockholm Syndrome is making your thoughts questionable at times, one of your nightmares gets pretty spooky, you're still pretty damn brainwashed and your girlfriend is mega supportive. Mildly graphic detail of a relived memory, a distinct lack of sandcastles (sorry guys it was mostly written by the time it was suggested BUT... maybe next time? NO PROMISES)

Words, all the word (count): 2,583, baebeeeee

Link to the AO3 page if you prefer reading there

MINIMAL EDITING - WE FORGET AND DIE LIKE SHARRANS (AGAIN)

Providing a continuation I didn't think I'd actually write I'm 3...2...1...

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Absentmindedly, your fingertips brushed over the wounds on your hand, staring into the darkness of the night surrounding the cottage. The rough texture of the log you've perched yourself on helped keep your mind from wandering too far while the chirping of crickets and hooting owls provided a beautiful, calming melody.

Dawn would break in two or so hours. You think. It was still odd, having to relearn things that came so simply to others. There was no need to memorize the lights in the sky when you seldom found yourself beneath them.

Twinkling and bright, they soothed something in you. Sure, the moon was beautiful, and you'd always be eternally grateful for everything Selûne has done. After all, it was her amulet around your neck that provided enduring guardianship over you. But sometimes... you just wanted the sparkling freckles scattered along the dark canvas of the night sky.

But your mind always wandered back to where it shouldn't. Or maybe it should. It was still so hard to tell. Even as you trace the shapes scarred into your flesh, something inside you... ached. Was that man hurting her? Does he make sure she has her black velvet tea stuff in the morning? Does she miss you?

Like you miss her...

Gods, how pathetic can you be?

A searing, throbbing burst of pain surges across your nerves from your hand, spreading up your arm and finally subsiding at your elbow. The scars-turned-sigils flickering a brief violet, while you wince and hiss. You were getting better at tolerating the pain...

Familiar footfalls crunched the leaves and twigs leading to your log. The first time, you jumped and darted into the woods. Found only when your wound flared so intensely, you screamed. The times after that, you jumped.

You've started to relearn the feeling of her presence, like a warm embrace that lingers in your memory. Differentiate it from what you were trained to know.

She took a seat beside you, positioning herself on your right. Close enough, you could feel her, distant enough to avoid suffocating you. The soft rustle of her clothing barely registered amidst the ambient songs of the evening. Silence enveloped her but was not unexpected, as she occasionally left you to your own musings. Just by being there, she effortlessly offered endless support. Provide soothing reassurance, an attentive ear or a warm shoulder - Whatever you needed, she would make sure you had it. It was one of the first things she taught you.

Though... recovery was still difficult. Part of you wanted to hear her. Scoot closer until you could feel her warmth. All you had to do was ask. Reach out for her. You weren't sure how to do much of that yet, but you wanted to try... you wanted to so badly. "I... don't want to sleep anymore." The words escape your lips in a hushed murmur, echoing the reason behind your presence in this place, reminding you why you're out here in the first place. And you fought desperately to shut it out.

"I know." She whispers, tone brimming with empathy. As you glance sideways, you can see her eyes locked on you, watching your every move. "But you need to. Running from it won't heal you, my love." Her hand moves closer to you, silently asking for permission.

All you do is return your hand to your side on the log, and Shadowheart does the rest. Her fingers delicately traced the contours of your hand as she slid hers over yours. You hesitantly meet her eyes, feeling a surge of nervous anticipation. All the warmth and happiness you wanted so badly was now laid bare and raw before you. Ready for you to come to your senses, get over yourself and...

Again, but worse this time. Your arm throbbed intensely, the pain spreading from your hand and into your shoulder, igniting a blazing fire pulsating through your entire body. It felt as though invisible knives were mercilessly carving your skin, prompting an involuntary cry of agony for just a fleeting moment before you quickly stifled it by clenching your teeth, your eyes screwed tightly shut.

You're barely aware of Shadowheart's hands clasped around yours, closer to you now, her soft-spoken words of affection and comfort. "Shh," she coos warmly, trying to soothe you. "It'll pass... just breathe. Shh... I'm right here, listen to me and breathe, love..." As your hand relaxes between hers and your breathing finds a steady rhythm, she can't help but smile. "There... See? Already passed." Shadowheart adds, placing a delicate peck to your temple, sending a warm tingle down your spine.

"Mine is bound to..."

"I know..." She cuts you off gently, rubbing soft circles on your hand. "This is the most she can do to you now. And the more you reclaim of yourself, the less this will matter. I promise."

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze before rising to her feet and gently pulling you with her. You don't fight her.

Leading you back inside, she playfully shoos away a dog lingering at the door, giggling quietly as it scampers off. A frown briefly creases your lips, wishing you could recognize the animals as much as they recognized you.

As she led you up the stairs to your bedroom, she made sure to keep your hand in hers, providing a constant sense of comfort until you reached the bed. She lifts a cat from your side of the bed and settles it on the floor before reaching for you to help you in. But she reads the look on your face, smiles almost apologetically and settles for just holding your hand until you sit on the edge of the bed.

Once you appear to relax, she gracefully rounds the bed and climbs in on her side, the mattress sinking slightly beneath her weight. Her eyes burning into your back as you sit there, hesitating. "Love, please..."

Her fingers lightly graze your exposed shoulder, causing you to flinch involuntarily. Shadowheart pauses, and you cringe at the hurt you sense radiating from her now still hand. But she tries, so slowly and timidly. "I'll be right here, sweetheart. Whatever comes, you won't face it alone this time. I swear..."

The tenderness in her voice is so different from the harsh commands you've come to expect. It's like a balm to your wary mind and you carefully ease yourself down to rest your head on the pillow.

For a split second, you're staring at the dark ceiling of that place and your core twitches in anticipation, ready to give everything and anything she wants of you.

A warm hand settles over yours, its touch so gentle that you don't notice your own trembling until she holds them steady. "You're safe here." Shadowheart reassures, voice barely above a whisper beside you. Nights have been difficult for the entire month you've been here, beset by restless sleep and haunting dreams. Surely it was wearing on her, this constant need to comfort and ground you... But here she was, just as patient and present as she was the first night. Not so much as implying a single complaint, passive or otherwise. "Can I hold you?" She asks, voice deliberate and measured, like the very words would startle you into the woods.

You offer a subtle nod, the faint sound of your affirmation barely audible in the room. As you do, you notice her cautious shuffle, the soft rustling of her moving across the bed. The moonlight through the window behind the bed casts a gentle glow, illuminating her hands, which she purposefully positions within your line of sight. You can sense her deliberate awareness, her conscious effort to ensure her actions remain visible. Gradually, she encircles you with her arms, her touch conveying a tender and guarded embrace. The scent of her envelops you - lavender and night orchids - adding a touch of familiarity.

She would never have... your body was hers to suit her whims...

"You're safe here..." Shadowheart whispers into your ear, returning you to the cottage. The present. Her nose gently presses into the crook of your neck, the warmth of her breath a soft caress you fixate on as your eyelids drift closed.

The initial darkness is hushed and welcoming, like a gentle whisper in the night... until it's not.

Until it's frigid and gripping at your limbs so tight, you almost lose feeling in them... Until they're pulling at the seams of you, tearing at you and boils your blood hot enough you swear your skin is melting off your bones like wax off a wick. You would scream if your mouth were allowed to open. "You've strayed, pet..." the icy voice scolds, her tone low. From the depths of the darkness, a faint silhouette emerges, steadily approaching you. "And we both know deep down that's not your honest desire."

Closing the distance between you, She emerges and looms above, her presence dominating. You realize now you're on your knees, with a sense of vulnerability washing over you.. Wearing her black robe you could still vividly envision even without seeing it. "Recall your prayer of contrition, when you first came to the Nightsingers' embrace."

You do, and the sharp pang of unmitigated anguish shoots through you. "When you wavered at the altar, when you turned away from her and hesitated to send Nyxara to her endless dark." It's as if a floodgate opens, and the memory of your first friend in the cloister rushes in. And your first act of wickedness to earn your place in it.

How She had to take your hand and drive the blade into her chest. The ghostly touch of tears streaming down your face lingers, as if they were shed just moments ago. You could almost still feel her heart beating its last into your palm through the dagger, as if you were still holding it. Could nearly feel the warmth of her life ebbing away in your hand.

You were permitted a pass only because She needed you initiated as soon as possible. But you had to pray for hours, the soft murmurs of your pleas mingling with the soft rustle of her robe as She circled you. Watched over you. Ensured your prayers were offered with utmost deference and reverence. Punishing you with your wound if you slipped in fervor.

Before you were called again to sacrifice Umbric, your only other friend. Your last one. Both a second chance to do it properly, and to repent of your failure... No more attachments. Only Shar. Only Her.

You knew better than to make friends after that.

Her slow crouch brought her eyes, icy green and intense, to meet yours, leaving you feeling completely powerless, entranced and held captive by her gaze. "Recite it. Recite it and repent for forswearing your faith to Lady Shar." The demand feels impossible to ignore, your mouth returning to you and an expectant glare follows.

"Mistress Shar, in the shadow of loss, I beseech your forgiveness. Forgive my faltering..."

"Tav!"

Your body lurches forward, drawing in a deep breath that fills your starving lungs. You feel your entire body trembling until warm, comforting arms encircle you. Offering a sense of security and safety. "I've got you, you're okay..."

"F-forgive my faltering faith, Mistress Shar—"

"Tav, no," Shadowheart says firmly, "come back to me, my love, I know you're stronger than her..." the stifled tremor is enough to clear the fog in your mind. "You're more than a puppet for her amusement. You always have been..." pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before nestling her nose in your hair. Drawing you deeper into her arms.

Recite it.

"I... don't want to..." Finally you break, the intensity of your training and your hunger for this new way of life conflicting so fiercely it overwhelms you.

Without further clarification, she amazingly understands. "No, my love, you don't have to. Not anymore... Never again." Shadowheart mutters into your hair. Holding you tighter when she feels the wet warmth you're bathing her shirt in. "Gods, I'm so sorry," she mutters, her voice filled with a self-reproach. "I should have done more, planned better, gotten to you sooner..."

You don't think, not really. You just act. Like you know already. The motions are a blur, but you know you pull back just enough... then your lips are on hers. She takes a moment to gather herself, but eventually eases into the moment and reciprocates. And it's unbelievably amazing.

The way she kisses you is sweet and tender, as if she wants to savor every moment with you. How she touched you, looked at you, now kissing you, like you were the most cherished and adored person in the world. Her lips against yours is so soft and electrifying that it sends wonderful shivers down your spine, and your body tingles in bliss.

There's no teeth, no pain, no blood. Only the warmth of her mouth moving slowly with yours like a delicate caress. Her hands are soft on your back, maintaining the security her arms provide you. It's everything beautiful that your stunted memory can recall of her kisses, and more... and you never want her to stop, craving for more. How have you gone this long without realizing how indescribably incredible she is?

But surely she does, if ever slightly. Neither of you seems ready to fully disconnect from each other. Your eyes remaining closed. "No more..." you whisper quietly.

"No more..." Shadowheart echoes just as quietly. Her lips twitching slightly, one hand brushing away a few lingering tears from your cheek. "Not anymore." Pressing a small kiss to your lips. "Never again." And another before her smile spreads wider.

Shadowheart gracefully maneuvers you both again to lie down in bed. This time you're practically on top of her, your face nuzzled into her shoulder. You gently weave your fingers through her smooth, flowing white hair, which partially cascades over her other shoulder, eliciting both a smile and a small sigh of appreciation from her. Mesmerized by her beauty, you can't help gawk in awe. Bathed in the ethereal glow of the moonlight streaming through the window, she looks absolutely radiant.

Her hand, still playing with the hair behind your head, guides you to rest on her shoulder. Securing you against her with her arm.

The memory crosses your mind and though you tense a moment; it doesn't... hurt as much as you've come to expect. Shadowheart gently tightens her arms in silent reassurance, and you respond by wiggling impossibly closer to her. The last thing you want is for her to think you feel or appreciate nothing she's done.

Instead, you gently drape your arm over her waist, feeling a sense of belonging and protection, as your mind wanders to Shadowheart... Your Shadowheart, savoring how your body melds so perfectly with hers. The adventures you must have shared. Wondering if there's a way to get those memories back.

Shadowheart fills all the dark corners of your thoughts, leaving no room for her to overrun your peace of mind. Before long, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, her steady breathing, has created a soothing lullaby that lulls you back to sleep.

This time, you're welcomed by a soft radiance and a soothing warmth.

In your fragmented memory, you can't recall a time when you've slept as soundly as you do now, peacefully drifting into a deep slumber.

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A/N: Wowowow okay hi. I didn't honestly expect to write anything beyond where it ended. Nothing public anyways. But AO3 asked very nicely (thanks!) for a continuation. I honestly intended this to be a beefy one but really liked the vibe and way it ended. Ya get what ya get. Quality over quantity, yeah?

Thanks again to everyone who likes, reblogs, replies, supports this little project in anyway you deem worth your time! And with that... Unpopular writer, awayyyy...

[demonvampire180writes]

Groundhog Day Final Chapter

BuckTommy Fix-it Fic Rated: T

3,815 Words

No Editor/Editing

On Ao3

Chapter 1 on Tumblr | Chapter 2 on Tumblr | Chapter 3 on Tumblr | Chapter 4 on Tumblr | Chapter 5 on Tumblr | Chapter 6 on Tumblr |

When he wakes, the minimal light passing through the blinds is gone, leaving the room blanketed in darkness. Shifting his head, he notices Buck has returned, passed out in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs that Tommy knows hospital rooms use to deter family from staying overnight.

He’s leaning onto one fist, mouth hanging open as he snores quietly, oblivious to Tommy’s gaze. Tommy’s heart aches as he watches him, remembering how it feels to sleep next to Buck’s warm, solid body. He misses the way Buck curls into a shrimp shape, hugging anything that’s nearby. At first, he always seemed to go for whatever pillow wasn’t being slept on, but within the month, Tommy became Buck’s favored hugging pillow. And Tommy relished in it. No matter how shitty of a day he had, coming home to Buck in his bed was a guaranteed mood lightener.

A lump forms, and he swallows it down, turning away from him, not wanting to remember. Even so, he feels the phantom scrape of Buck’s scruff against his chest as he adjusts in his sleep, and the way he’d whine when Tommy would extricate himself on days he had to work and Buck didn’t. There’s the ghostly scent of Buck’s favorite coffee wafting from some far off distance and the smell of homemade brioche French toast.

No, wait. Buck’s never made Tommy French toast before, at least not from scratch. The dreams come back to him and he moans quietly; he can see her face in his mind - the little princess that the universe really said copy and paste Buck’s DNA. Knowing that she’s just a dream hurts almost worse than the physical pain. She’s something Tommy could’ve had with Buck.

Sighing, he closes his eyes and wills himself back to sleep.

The next time he wakes, the sun is coming through open blinds and Adelina is asking what he would like for breakfast. Head a little foggy he replies, “Nothing. I’m good.” To which she gives him a somewhat reproachful look but just nods, telling him to call if he gets hungry. He smiles at her as she leaves the room. Sighing, he searches for the bed controls and presses the “up” button for the head of the bed. It moves slowly, but smoothly, yet it still gives Tommy pause as pain lances through his healing arm. Adelina had upped the drip with the pain meds a little but they have yet to kick in. Soon, he’s in a mostly upright position, giving him a better view of the room.

He’s not surprised to see that Buck is no longer sitting in the chair. Serves me right, I guess. I’m surprised he even stayed once he found out I wasn’t dying. The thoughts are needle sharp and dig at him but he can’t deny them. If he was in Buck’s shoes, he’s not sure he would do any differently.

Surveying the room, he finds that he doesn’t have any of his personal effects; his phone was shattered in the crash and his clothes had probably been cut off of him in the OR. Somehow that made him feel even more alone. Mind heavy, Tommy settles in for what’s going to be a very long, very boring day. Just as he’s reaching for the TV remote, a shadow fills the doorway a moment before the younger man steps through carrying two cups of coffee.

Holding one of them out he mutters, “I um… I asked the doctor if you could have coffee and she said uh… She said you could have a little bit.” He can’t look Tommy in the eyes, even as he brings it over to the sliding table within Tommy’s reach. Tommy can’t help feeling touched, eyes growing warm. “If nothing’s changed,” Buck continues, pulling up a chair right next to the bed, “I got you your favorite.”

A little too quickly Tommy replies, “No, nothing’s changed. If I never have to drink another cup of shitty gas station coffee it will be too soon.” He nabs the warm cup with his good hand and brings it to his lips, inhaling the glorious scent of roasted beans with a hint of vanilla, and a little something else. He misses the way Buck’s lips quirk up just the slightest, though his blue eyes remain lifeless and despondent. He’s twisting his own cup between his hands, letting it cool nearly to room temperature.

They sit in a somewhat amicable, if not entirely too awkward, silence as Tommy sips at the coffee. He feels like he wants to tell Buck everything, and nothing all at once. He wants to fill him in on every little thing that’s happened to him in the last eight months; tell him about the new books he’s picked up but hasn’t been able to read because he thinks of how he used to read to Buck while he cooked. He wants to go into detail about the breweries he visited, but hated, because Buck wasn’t there to make faces at all of the craft beers Tommy made him try. Tommy wanted to smirk at the fact that Buck secretly liked some of the fancy drinks but would never admit to it, not even under the penalty of death. There’s fights to talk about, and muay thai and the old beater someone brought Tommy to work on and restore in his free time.

Tommy wants to spill the beans about how he can’t stand to be at home, alone, because every inch of his space is infused with Buck’s essence, and how being there physically hurts him.

But he says none of that, up until he drinks the very last dregs of his coffee, holding the empty cup to his chest as he gazes down into it, hoping to find some answers. None are forthcoming as the silence edges into oppressive. Buck hasn’t taken a single sip of his own drink since sitting down at Tommy’s bedside. He stares off into space, clearly trying to dissociate from the situation.

“You know.” Buck breaks the silence first, words so soft Tommy strains to hear him clearly. “I’m not entirely sure what I was hoping for when I asked you to move in with me.” Tommy’s breath catches but he remains silent. Waiting. “Before that, Josh had asked me if I loved you, and I couldn’t answer him. Not at the time; not right away. But then he broke it down for me, and I think I had a lightbulb moment. Even though I wasn’t able to say it right then, I knew. No one had ever made me feel like you did, not even Abby. I told you that she had been the most transformative relationship in my life until you came along, and that’s still true, but you were also more than that.”

“Buck…” Tommy doesn’t miss the way the man's shoulders hunch and his posture stiffens at the use of his nickname.

He shakes his head, finally lifting his gaze to meet Tommy’s, a hard set to his mouth, eyes slightly narrowed. “I couldn’t find the words to describe my exact feelings. I think you felt like I was just idolizing you because you were my first queer relationship. I’m not a mind reader, but I think you were scared that one day I was going to wake up and decide I didn’t like men, that it was just a phase. That it was just all in my head.”

“Buck, that’s not true.” Tommy says sharply, taking offense at the implication that Buck’s sexual preferences are something he can simply choose. “I mean, maybe it was a little bit, but I never thought you’d leave me because you didn’t like guys anymore. You’re still young and I’m not.”

Buck snorts aggressively. “Like that’s much better. You know, I expect the people who knew me pre Abby to have certain expectations of me; they think that I’m a player who can’t settle down, that I jump both feet in without thinking first. I never expected that from you. I never expected it from the person that I couldn’t stop thinking about after fucking up our first date so badly that you left me at the curb, and I couldn’t even be mad because you were right to. I didn’t expect to be dropped like a bag of lead by the person who gave me a second chance and still showed up to my sister's wedding after fighting a fire for eighteen hours and was dog tired.” Tommy swallows and looks away, unable to keep looking him in the eye. Buck inhales deeply through his nose and finishes, “I sure as hell didn’t expect it from the person that I came out to all my friends and family in one go with because I was so excited to see you that I couldn’t help but kiss you in the emergency entrance waiting room.”

Breath hitching, Tommy tells him, “I wish like hell I could tell you that it had nothing to do with you, but I would be lying. Your experience has been a lot different than mine. You’ve been surrounded by supportive people since coming out. You’ve never had a reason to hide who you are, or who you’re with.” Taking a shuddering, calming, breath he continues, “It might not be like it was ten or twenty years ago, but you have to understand that people like me… People who were gay before it was okay to be gay… carry a lot of scars in our hearts. We learned to protect ourselves, to harden our hearts and to not hope because hope meant eventual pain. We could be in love, but we remained scared. I remained scared.”

“What the hell are you trying to say, Tommy? Are you telling me that, because I didn’t go through the same hardship as you, that I could never understand?”

“No!” He shouts the word and begins to cough. Buck wordlessly reaches over and grabs the half full water glass with the straw and brings it to Tommy’s lips. He drinks it down before letting his head fall back against the pillow. “You… You painted this glowing picture of me. You told me how amazing I was for being comfortable in my own skin and even though I rebuked you, you kept coming at me. I felt the weight of all of those expectations and it was crushing me. I’ve had enough experiences in the past with baby queers putting me on this pedestal to know that a relationship can’t be maintained that way. Eventually you would see that I’m not this poster child queer man. I’d begin to crack and over time I know you would grow to resent me. They always do. Do you know how many men had their bi awakenings with me in the army who played the part until they returned home and learned there was someone better? Someone less broken, less fragile? Someone who wasn’t still trying to play the part of the straight white man?”

“I’m still not understanding.” Buck’s brows are drawn together, a deep groove in his skin like he’s lost in thought.

Sighing, Tommy turns his head and looks straight at the younger man as he says, “I loved you, Buck, but knowing that you would leave me as soon as the mask began to crack, I needed to protect myself because I couldn’t handle yet another heartbreak. If I broke my own heart, I could heal. If you broke my heart… I’m not sure I would have survived.”

Buck’s baby blues glisten, damp nearly to the point of spilling over, but they don’t. “You… You loved me?” He sounds broken, the question a barely audible passing of air through his vocal chords.

“Do you want to know what I dreamed about while I was asleep?” He steadies himself. “In my dreams, we were married, just like you said we could be thanks to those that came before us. You were the captain of the 118. People loved you. We had two kids. Twins.” He can’t help the small smile as he remembers their faces. “Pipa and Jonah. Pipa was a total princess, with a rats nest of curls, but your same blue eyes. She was a firecracker. Then Jonah, our sweet little boy. He had your birthmark.” Tommy taps the spot on his own forehead with his good hand. “It wasn’t quite the same, but similar. His eyes were blue, too, but they had a bit of green in them. All he wanted to do was take care of his sister; he was always there for her.” He snorts. “Until he wasn’t and they fought like all siblings do. But overall, he was a caretaker, like you.”

“I’m not…” Buck tries to interrupt but Tommy steamrolls right over him.

“We had such a beautiful home, Evan. A gorgeous multi-story home with lots of bedrooms; a bathroom for you and me, and a bathroom for the kids. We had pets - a surly black cat named Rain and an old basset hound named Rudy that couldn’t even be bothered to play.” Tommy’s voice is thick with emotions as the dreams flood back to him, free from the distortions and the pain. His chest aches so damn much. It’s not just his bruised ribs that cause pain to flare each time he takes a breath. “I retired and became a stay at home husband if you can believe that. I was so bored I didn’t know what to do with myself, even if it was just a coma version of myself.” Evan’s chuckle is wet even as he nods in agreement. “I still kept up with my pilots license. I think I even taught classes once in awhile, though my dream never got that far. My brain decided that we were meant to be happy, Evan.” He forcefully clears his throat because it’s so clogged he’s struggling to breathe through the emotions. “My subconscious showed me what I had always dreamed of. A husband, with two point five kids and a white picket fence in suburbia. And it showed me that with you.” 

Evan is up on his feet, pacing, hands running restlessly through his hair. Every few treks across the floor he brings his thumb to his mouth and nibbles at the nail until it hurts. Finally stopping, he turns on his heel and stomps to the bed. “You loved me?” He asks again. He sounds just as choked up as Tommy.

Without hesitation Tommy nods. “I’ve never stopped, Evan.” Saying his name out loud feels like a cool breeze on a hot day against his soul. It releases some tension inside of him, uncoiling like a snake waking from sleep. “I didn’t want to be hurt by you, Evan, but I knew as soon as I walked out that door that I would never find anyone else. Because you’re it for me, Evan Buckley. You were meant to be my forever.”

Evan sinks into his seat and drops his head into his hand, breathing so hard Tommy worries he’s about to hyperventilate. Just as he considers picking up the nurse call button, Evan speaks. “You’re all I’ve thought about since that night, Tommy. Everything I did, everywhere I went, I was reminded of you. At night I couldn’t sleep because I didn’t have you breathing beside me, pressed against my back. I baked half of LA out of flour because I baked every time I thought about calling or texting you. And you were never far from my mind.” He takes a heavy breath, still not looking at Tommy. “And everyone tried to keep me from calling you. I’ve never hurt so much in my life, Tommy. Not even getting struck by lightning and nearly dying hurt as much as you leaving did.” Tommy thinks about making a quip about being struck by lightning again but he keeps quiet, allowing Evan to have this moment.

They sit in silence for another moment before Evan gets to his feet and leans against the bed railing. Looking into Tommy’s eyes he confesses, “I think… No, I know… that I love you Tommy. I think I’ve known for a long time, but I was just too much of a coward to say it. And that ended up hurting the both of us. I jumped the gun asking you to move in because I couldn’t figure out how to tell you those three little words out loud like an adult.” Another deep breath. “I haven’t stopped loving you either, not once. Even now you’re the only one that I can imagine by my side.” He grabs Tommy’s hand and plays with his fingers, stretching his hand out and then massaging each knuckle as he gazes down at it. “I… I want you in my life forever, Tommy. I want to have fights, and movie nights, and talks so late into the night we regret it the next morning. I… I want to have those two point five kids with you, and exactly one cat and one dog. I want that two car garage out in the middle of suburbia, even though the commute is inconvenient because I want those kids to grow up with a green yard. All of those things sound like an absolute dream to me. It’s something I never could’ve even considered a possibility before moving here to LA. Really, I’m not sure I’d even considered having kids of my own before I met you.”

Tommy shrugs a tiny shrug, feeling a bit warm in the face and ears. He knows he’s turning red, whether from embarrassment or pride he’s not sure, but he can’t stop it. “I feel the same. Before meeting you, Evan, I didn’t think I was even worthy of having kids. You made me want those things.”

Another pregnant silence. Evan still massages Tommy’s fingers, playing with them. It drags on, the room growing darker as clouds pass over the sun. There’s rain in the forecast. “I… Do you still want that, Tommy? With me?” His voice is so small, his posture tense and unyielding. He’s bracing for impact, and Tommy understands why. The last time he asked such a life altering question Tommy had broken them both into a million pieces. But not this time. Never again.

“Evan, I would die a hundred thousand times if I could get just one more chance with you. I would give up everything I have, everything I am, to go back and fix the stupidest mistake I’ve ever made in my forty years of life. You are everything to me, and I want to take every single thing you’re willing to give.” Especially if you’d be willing to give me your heart again, patch worked and all.

“And if I told you you didn’t have to die even once? That all you’d have to do is make me a promise that you’ll never break?”

“Well, I think I’ve already technically sufficiently died once, so I’ll try not to make it twice.” Tommy sasses, earning a genuine snort of laughter from the man who holds his very soul. “Since I can’t promise not to die again, what can I promise you to show you just how much I’m still in love with you?”

Evan takes his hand into both of his and gives him a steadfast stare as he answers, voice deadly serious, “You have to promise me that you will never pull a stunt like that again. I know you’ve had your heart broken, and that you’re scared, but I’m sick of people walking away from me. I’m sick of giving away my heart only for it to come back to me a little more crippled than before. I’ve only got one more heartbreak left in me, Tommy. I can’t do it again.”

Tommy curls his fingers around Evan’s and stares straight back at him, all traces of humor gone. “I swear to you, on all that I am, that I will never leave you, Evan. You are my everything. As much as I belong to you, you belong to me. No matter what happens going forward, I want to face it all with you. If there comes a day where we need to part ways,” Evan opens his mouth to protest yet again, but Tommy gives him the look that quiets him and continues, “I will continue to be there for you because the love I have for you will never end. Ever.”

A second later there’s cracked, dry lips pressing against his, fitting like the final puzzle piece of his life. Taking his hand back, he wraps it around Evan’s neck and pulls him in just that little much closer as he feels warm wetness on his cheeks. Maybe they’re his own, maybe they’re Evan’s, but most likely they’re theirs mixed together. Like they should be in everything they do. Evan’s breath tastes a little stale but Tommy doesn’t care, closing his eyes to bask in everything he’s been missing for the last eight months. Evan braces himself on the bed with one hand while placing the other directly over Tommy’s heart, putting no weight on it so not to hurt him.

Eventually they break apart, breathing hard, both their eyes moist but no tears to be seen. As soon as their eyes meet, they’re breaking into smiles and then laughter bubbles up and Evan leans in to press their foreheads together. Tommy wraps his hand around Evan’s neck, and Evan wraps his around Tommy’s and they stay that way until Evan whines of a cramp in his neck. Once he’s sitting back in the chair, moving it as close to the bed as he’s physically able, he says, “I love you, Tommy.” He squeezes the larger, calloused hand held in his.

Returning the gesture, Tommy smiles back, full on crinkles and wrinkles, as he replies, “I love you, too, kid.” Evan chuckles. He makes an ‘oh’ face and begins scrabbling for what Tommy can only assume is his phone.

“Everyone’s really worried about you. I should call and let them know that you’re awake, and doing alright.”

“You didn’t do that earlier?”

Evan blushes, looking sheepish. “I was too worked up. It’s all your fault you know.”

Chuckling quietly, Tommy nods. “Yes, yes, it’s all my fault. Now, go call your family. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

“Promise?”

“Always.” Tommy watches as his boyfriend leaves the room to go make the no doubt endless phone calls he needs to make, unable to keep the grin off his face. A lot of terrible things had happened to get him here, a few he’ll regret until the end of eternity, but nothing, and no one, could ever make him regret Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley.

-x-

If you made it this far with me, thank you from the bottom of my heart. This didn't turn out exactly how I expected it to, but I have to say I'm pretty happy with the end result.

If you liked it here, I would really appreciate a kudos, comment, and or bookmark on Ao3. If you don't want to, I totally get it. I appreciate your interactions here with me on Tumblr.

Much love!

[jonnysinsectcatalogue]

Great Golden Digger Wasp - Sphex ichneumoneus

I wasn't intending on uploading these images today, but Tuesday's weather in Toronto has been magnificent and warm. It reminded me of summer, and these beautiful pollinators that graced the neighborhood's small flowers. I'm always amazed by the expressive faces these splendid insects showcase while observing them. Although they may seem intimidating at first glance, just a friendly reminder that these beauties tend to not be aggressive when far from their burrow, unless provoked. This Wasp's first form of defense is her ability to fly away from danger. Secondly, while her mandibles appear fearsome, at maximum extension they are built to grip and haul, rather than rip and tear. Furthermore, as this solitary Digger Wasp's sting is designed to prick and paralyze Katydid prey, its pain level to a human may be weak compared to other Wasps; especially the species that have colonies ruled by a queen such as Yellowjackets. In looking for a reasonable measure of the pain/effects that this Wasp's sting could bring, my attention returned to "The Sting of the Wild", by Justin O. Schmidt.

While the Schmidt Pain Index included in the book doesn't mention the Great Golden Digger Wasp, it does outline the strength of one of its close, North American relatives: the Great Black Wasp (S. pensylvanicus), a close North American relative of the Golden Digger. Its sting is rated a 1 out of 4. For a comparison, a Yellowjacket sting is rated at a 2. As well, the Golden Digger's sting is described as follows: "Simple and presumptuous. Your younger sibling has just nipped at your pinkie finger." It doesn't sound so bad, but indications of a sting will occur in the form of swelling and possible discomfort. As such, it is best not to provoke insects into biting, scratching or stinging you. Kindly allow them to go about their day with minimal interference (when possible). Having said that, it is likely that they may engage in conflicts with other Wasps while foraging should they get too close to each other, whether on flowers or on the cornering of a paralyzed Katydid. Any fighting is likely to be mostly nipping, poking and grappling, the latter two of which are done using the long, spined legs.

Pictures were taken on July 1, 2024 with a Google Pixel 4.

[nartml]

Your misogyny is showing. Get your shit together

(First and last time I'll ever bother with such a rude ask, but I'll use this oh so sugary sweet statement to get some things out the way )

CW: Rant ahead, not Sakura or Hinata friendly, if you disagree and won't be nice about sharing your opinions fucking DNI, this isn't for you.

My misogyny 💀

Because I don't like Sakura and Hinata, I assume? Why is it always misogyny's fault with y'all?

Respectfully, I don't really care about Sakura and Hinata. I'm mostly indifferent to them, but they're fun to criticize, considering there's so many flaws to talk about.

Maybe I was harsh with my words when respectively bashing them, but what I said still objectively stands. Sometimes, not liking a female character has less to do with misogyny and more to do with the fact that they're really, really not that good.

But alas, I sincerely apologize for my just so disgustingly misogynistic words (in case you don't get it, I'm being 100% sarcastic)

In a bit less harsh, more analytical manner, allow me to rephrase:

Sakura is someone who doesn't fit in the Shinobi world. She's too delusional about her romantic fantasies regarding Sasuke to be able to properly advance in such a harsh environment. And Hinata, with or without her infatuation with Naruto, is an incapable kunoichi. She's far too timid and hesitant to be a warrior.

Now, those are not necessarily bad things. Not having what it takes to be a Shinobi can easily be considered positive; be it because you're a hopeless romantic and that hinders your ability to maximize your potential or because you just don't have the spine or endurance necessary to be a badass ninja. Those aren't reasons to violently hate on someone. Specifically about Sakura and Hinata, those aren't even the reasons why so many people dislike them.

Or at least I hope not. I'd understand the point of your ask better if I had said anything derogatory about their appearance, for example. Those types of haters are annoying, and I manage to turn into both Sakura and Hinata's biggest defenders the moment someone says shit that degrades Sakura for her chest or some other bs, and/or fetishizes Hinata in any way. Rest assured, I'm anything but misogynistic.

But oh shit, it's time we realized that Sakura's "feelings" for Sasuke were simply a shallow school girl crush. And that would've been okay, understandable, maybe even a little cute, if it weren't for the way she constantly pushed herself onto him, consistently referred to him as hers in her head, saw him as a trophy, a blank canvas to project her fantasies onto. She was disrespectful, and her confessions were sickening.

Because how dare you compare your loneliness to that of a genocide survivor? How could you make your supposed love's pain all about you? How could you be so ready to abandon your friends, family, life, and future just to follow him to someone who you know would cause him harm, when you so clearly don't even know or understand him? How could you try to minimize everything he went through, try to diminish all he's suffered in the name of "laughing and having fun like the good old times"? "What about me, Sasuke? I'll be in so much pain if you leave. Please, if there's even a small part of you that cares about me, stay". "I can't get close to you, I can't exchange blows with you, I can only whine and beg, it's pretty pathetic. There's nothing I can do for you".

These are all things she's said and/or done paraphrased. There's so much more I don't care to recall. And they're all very annoying.

Her sole motivation was Sasuke; he's the reason she talks about how she'll get stronger to catch up to him and Naruto, about how she wants to "save" him, or "protect" him, about how she wants to be able to "fight for herself next time".

But she never managed to really do any of it, because it was all so surface level. Her aspirations for life began and ended with Sasuke, a guy she ultimately doesn't know a single thing about. That's objectively pathetic.

I don't like her because of the way she treats Sasuke, because of the way she views him, because of the way she's so pretentious about her "undying love" for him.

I don't like anti-sasusakus who come at it from a "Sakura deserves better" perspective, because she got exactly what she asked for; now she even gets to parade around wearing that Uchiha crest like the trophy it is to her, while having done nothing to earn it!!!

But.

But.

Honestly? They're not exactly wrong. Maybe she doesn't deserve better. But her character would, at least if Kishimoto even wanted to write that story.

What do I mean by that? I mean that Sakura, as a main character, does not benefit from her feelings for Sasuke. It's not that Sasuke isn't good for her, it's that her "feelings" for him aren't.

I'll use Naruto as a comparison. His feelings for Sasuke [No, I don't care how you interpret their relationship. If you want, they can be platonic feelings or familial feelings (you'd be wrong but who am I to judge), or romantic feelings] actually serve as his basis for self improvement.

Usually, in media, love is something that drives characters to be better.

Naruto's love for Sasuke is his greatest strength.

Naruto kept getting stronger, with Sasuke as his motivator. Naruto kept trying to understand him, to see things from his perspective, never held any sort of idealistic "Sasuke would never do that" train of thought.

Naruto got to better understand the injustice of the system through Sasuke and his love for him. Naruto initially fought to bring him back to Konoha, not because he wanted to play house with him, or because he wanted Sasuke to cater to Konoha's every whim, but because in Naruto's mind, Konoha is home and it's safe, away from Orochimaru's dirty hands.

But then once he finally understood Sasuke better, once they fought and he carried Sasuke's burdensome hatred with him, he let him go. He let him travel, leave Konoha, without ever asking for him to stay, because he gets it (Unlike Sakura, who still didn't get it, and did the exact opposite)

In Sakura's case, however, her "feelings" for Sasuke hold her back. Though that's a bit of conundrum, seeing as any sort of achievements she's made are directly linked back to her crush. Like I said before, he's her motive. No, it's specifically the shallowness of her love, the half-heartedness in her convictions to improve that holds her back. Her "feelings" aren't as genuine as she –or any of you– likes to think they are, and that keeps her from growing, from seeing clearly (i.e: in the long run, they hold her back)

They're proof of her superficiality. She's too caught up in romanticizing the absolute shit out of Sasuke, too caught up in using him to live out her fairytale dreams, too caught up in asking others to bring him back to her, or whatever. She's too caught up in whether Sasuke looks at her or worries about her to fight properly. And I mean "fight" both literally and metaphorically here.

So yeah, her "feelings" for him aren't good for her. It would've been a much better character arc, in my opinion, something that could be actually empowering that would give her depth, if she had ended up with Lee instead.

Because Lee is the exact opposite of Sasuke, in the sense that he's ugly in Sakura's eyes (I'll state here that I don't think Lee is ugly, bushy brows and all, he's very pretty to me), and so to end up with him, well. That would require Sakura to see past physical appearance.

Sakura tends to be very judgemental of other people's looks, and the way she treats them is often correlated to how beautiful she finds them.

But falling for Lee would've been a great way for her to move past the cover and read the book. Something which could then translate to her being less insensitive and judgy from then on.

[Sakura fans love to point out that she might say rude stuff, but then she regrets it, so it's okay! To that I say, it hardly matters that you regret something you say and promise that you'll be better, if you're just going to repeat the process the next day]

That said, she didn't even have to end up with anyone. She could've remained single, after realizing how wrong she was about Sasuke. She could've stopped pining after him, and gotten herself a goal that is bigger than just ending up with him.

But that's not who she is. That's actually, an entirely different character. That's not how Kishimoto wrote her, and criticizing him because of that is stupid. He knew what and why he was doing it, and the narrative some of you adopt, the one that goes "no, I'm better than so-and-so, this character should've been that way instead", is exhausting.

Sakura fans never represent her how she canonically is. Truly, 100%, the way she's depicted in the show. They nitpick which parts of her they like, and ignore the rest. You guys love the version of her that isn't shallow, that understands Sasuke, that is assertive, that is 3-dimensional; a person whose hard work actually comes to mean something, who is much more genuine about her love for Sasuke, who is by all means an independent badass. The Sakura who is selfless and understanding and a go-getter badass. And that's okay, I guess. But at least admit it.

It's always an outsider commenting on how "she's better than Tsunade" because they saw her punch one time, or "her feelings for you have matured" (something cancelled out entirely by Sakura later). It's always "I've caught up to them" after something that amounts to nothing significant. We're told she's great. We've yet to see it for ourselves, outside of those five? Six maybe? Eight is my being generous. Truly iconic scenes that she has in the entirety of the manga.

I stand by my closing line on her post.

She's foolish, and too caught up in her own romantic, fantasy world to substantially thrive in a reality as cold-blooded as the one she was born in.

And that's all she'll ever be.

As for my girl Hinata. I absolutely stand by everything I said on that post. Not taking a single word back. Maybe Sakura has a few redeeming qualities; like I said, you could explore her character outside of her crush on Sasuke and make a true badass out of her. (While still acknowledging the fact that that's not who Kishimoto wrote her to be)

But Hinata? There's no character to explore. Period. She's nice. Sweet. Kind, maybe? Sweet. Did I mention nice? I should probably not forget to say that she's sweet. Let's not omit that she's privileged and doesn't care one bit that her family is a-okay with slavery!! OH, and she can cook well. She also has those big boobs. And all her symbolism with Naruto was ripped off sns, coincidentally.

She's very passively likable, and the definition of forgettable. Like it or not.

____________________________________________

As for me, I should make it clear here and now that I am no misogynist. I like to think of myself as a very passionate intersectional feminist, who gives credit where it's due.

These two ladies? They don't deserve the aforementioned credit.

Have a great day 💞

[leniisreallycool]

Fuck okay that sure was an episode

Helluva Boss spoilers below the cut

It took me a second to realize Stolas was automatically looking for his meds in the bathroom. UGH HE SHOULD HAVE TOLD BLITZ BUT HE COULDN'T ALSKSPWQIXMNXNZ. He went cold turkey for a whole goddamn month and you KNOW he was taking more than he really should have been before that. No wonder he crashed the way he did

The second Millie started acting weird I knew. Like I clocked it immediately. I may miss when people irl are pregnant but fictional pregnant lady behavior does not slip by me. Like when she threw up I thought for a half second "wait holy holiday = pain for demons??" but the others were fine so my next thought was "ah. Pregnant" and immediately every Millie shot confirmed it

The plants. STOLAS'S FUCKING PLANTS

I think Octavia is aware on some level that her mother doesn't really love her either. That all of this was about Stella and her revenge on Stolas and never really about her. And to be the one to find the meds - obviously that was going to fuck her up. AND HER SONG??? OH MY GOD??? "I will be okay" YOU FUCKING WILL BE BUT GOD

Her relationship with both of her parents is so messy right now. And of course it is. Her dad was broken but hid it to protect her but that backfired and now hurt her more. And her mother was always going to prioritize herself because that's all she cares about, but Octavia can't rely on Stolas. Her mother is all she has right now. But her mother doesn't care. "All you'll know is my name" "I will be a stranger to her" FUCK JUST RIP WHY HEART OUT WHY DON'T YOU

AND HER MAGIC THAT WAS SICK

We've never seen her use magic basically at all, except when she stole the Grimoire (I can't fucking spell I don't know if that's right) and when she lit Loona's cigarette

So the fact that she was able to do so much, and was clearly far more powerful than Adrealphus despite her minimal training, was incredible. And yeah she clearly didn't have the best control over it but she did save Stolas and by extension IMP

I've loved Octavia this whole time and I hope after this episode the fandom will start to recognize why she's so awesome

Also Loona's big transformation?? Let's fucking go?? Wasn't expecting that and none of the characters seemed surprised so I hope we get to see more on that

Secretary Stolas au writers how y'all feeling now that it's canon

Seeing Blitz take the gentle caretaker role so naturally was nice too. We mostly see that brash facade he puts on to protect himself but he let it down because now it's his turn to provide for Stolas. He's so soft right now akskasksks

The role reversal is interesting. The last episode made it clear that that was going to be the case, but we really see it here. The self hatred that we've seen with Blitz over and over, that he's working to get through, is now one of Stolas's many issues. Obviously he was depressed before (hence the meds) but now it's worse because (a) he made a decision that fucked his life over (that was the only choice he could have made but fuck if it didn't screw him over in every aspect of his life) (b) he went cold turkey without telling Blitz that he ever was on meds in the first place so Blitz had no way of knowing he needed help there and (c) he lost one of the only things that kept him alive this whole time and can't have her back for the next hundred years, after which it'll be too late to be her dad

Another thing, Stolas was absolutely terrified when M&M were beating the shit out of each other. He was dissociating before that but it dragged him out. It was obviously playful to Blitz and Loona and us as the audience, but we're very familiar with how friendly-violent imps are. Stolas is aware, but in a conscious way? Like he knows it in his head but not in his nervous system, if that makes sense.

Soft Blitz soft Blitz soft Blitz I repeat Blitz let go of his tough guy facade for the whole episode except when he was fighting Adrealphus and even then he switched in and out of it so naturally when he needed to

"Earning money? I'M POOR NOW FFFUUUCCKK" made me squeak like a broken chew toy for a solid five minutes I had to pause the episode so I could catch my breath

"Wait I guess eating eggs is like cannibalism for you" second best bit in the episode

[townofcadence]

Artair's Ability Profile

A exhaustive but subject to change LONG list of Artair's abilities and how they affect him, with ooc notes (beware it's like six pages whoops):

These are sorted by the entity they derive from and their respective concept embodiment-- though I'll keep it to only what he is capable of currently, and the downfalls.

I will also say, the intention with Artair and his abilities as a celestial eldritch 'fae' thing is to write him undergoing the changes from being human to being Something Else while also making cool stories. He is capable of a lot that could make him overpowered eventually, but it is developing slowly (what he has now is after a decade) and I care more about him being just a guy and someone who is flawed and contending with the changes, rather than making him magically able to fix everything and 'the most powerful guy in the room'. I'm aiming more for 'looks weak but is actually strong when it comes to down to it, and can do great and terrible things for people he cares about... but also has no idea how to use any of it unless desperate enough, and often has it cause problems'.

I know it can be hard to play with someone if it feels like there's no chance for tension or they're too strong-- so despite the extensive list, I'll strive to keep it under control as best I can. And if you find me overstepping, PLEASE let me know and reel me in, I want this to be fun for everyone more than I care about anything else!

NOTE: I would like to state that the abilities that manifest are often tied to the person and who they are. Artair's manifestation process has been one of the most extensive due to his own self-inflicted desire to save everyone and throw himself into danger. Also, his super bad luck is a reflection of himself as well. He ended up with a lot of power as he's moved away from being human, and he keeps growing within those Embodiments as he 'furthers his potential'.

The abilities themselves did not and do not force him to have the personality he does; his personality influenced which would manifest, due to him embodying the concept or already having some connection to it or a thought process that connects to it. This is true for most all other humans of my world, should they accidentally start the process as well.

+=[====>

Sirius [Vitality, Altruism]:

Artair heals faster than humans do. Unless extensive enough, most wounds will heal without a scar. He can also use healing abilities that close injuries for whoever he uses them on, even to the extent of revival from death if he performs it fast enough, though not without consequence. His abilities within the altruism domain are minimal currently, mostly provision of an aura of comfort and relief from a degree of pain. If Artair is emotionally falling apart or spirals far enough, some of his scars and old injuries are liable to reopen on their own and bleed. Especially if he shifts into an alternate form due to instability or channeling too much energy. For now, when he preforms any kind of healing, he transfers the injury on to himself instead, healing his target and placing the harm as it is or worse on himself in a trade. He could channel the harm to someone else, but he just ---won't. He doesn't know how nor would he want to. Sometimes, his desire to comfort overwrites other things, and he acts on impulse in a way meant to comfort without being fully aware why he's feels the urge. He does not have to act on it, but usually he will because he feels useful and like he is doing something right when he makes others feel better in some way. Within the blend of Vitality and The End, Artair is unable to die. Wounds are painful, but he isn't affected by them like he used to be, and if he does die, he comes back shortly after. There does not seem to be a limit on how much he can die. NOTE: This ability is one that can affect other muses as part of the healing nature. I will do my best to always ask for consent before allowing Artair to do as such and limit him in that regard as needed, depending on the wishes and comfort of the rp partner. Can be weakened to some pain relief instead of true healing, or not utilized in thread.

Nimbus [Storm -> Lightning/Water/Wind]:

Stormcalling. Artair has an easier time channeling electric abilities when using his spellweaving. He has essentially become a lethal taser before, on accident, when in desperate need to survive, especially when pinned or held down by something intending harm. Sometimes, when casting spellwork, a storm will form and his hair will move like a breeze is ruffling it, and water will begin to pool around him as a central point. His emotional state can effect the weather, making it rain. Conversely---- his emotional state effects his ability. He has been in so much duress that he summoned lightning storms to the area he is in, causing extensive damage. He has also accidentally electrocuted friends by being touched when emotionally unstable, though not to any lethal degree. He now has an aversion to being touched when upset, and will actively try to push away others or escape by leaving, if possible. Often if he's upset enough to start sparking, he realizes what's happening, and in doing so stresses himself to a point of becoming more dangerous for everyone around him.

Eden [Plants, Knowledge]:

Artair remembers almost everything he learns. He basically has a photographic memory, and learns skills and knowledge unnaturally fast. This includes things such as hobbies and crafts, languages, the structure and components of devices, and athletic positions or endeavors. In his alternate form, he can see from the perspective of every eye that manifests around him. With plants, sometimes his spellwork summons flowers and plants at his feet. He feels at home in the woods or forests, connected to them deeply, and almost never gets lost. He always seems to find what he needs within them. He has a deep love of plants, and the ones he nurtures in his garden always seem to thrive. However, Artair finds himself uncomfortable if he's away from vegetation too long, though he can't explain the discomfort he feels. He also finds himself taken by wanderlust often, a desire to be in the deep wilds, and to find new types of plant life to cultivate (likely an overlap between plants and knowledge for himself). And with knowledge, while he learns fast, he often is compelled to seek new knowledge and Understand something. He feels under-stimulated if he's not doing something, usually trying to resolve something or solve an issue or learn something new. If he learns about something he doesn't know, he also feels the need to know more about it, and will either do research or ask questions until he knows enough to sate that innate desire. He can control it, but it's unpleasant resisting, especially when he's always been curious by nature about things he didn't understand. He has the capacity to get lost in the knowledge he's cultivating and lose time, or to lose himself to seeking it so much so that he oversteps. He also struggles with having so many perceptions when he does see out of the eyes he can manifest.

Null [Creation, Possibilities]:

This one has not made much impact at all, except when his form has changed. Breaking into pieces and coming back together and fragmenting into a fractal glitching mess as he's lost to past, present, future and it warps him in reality, which manifests itself as an eldritch change to his body. He also in that form can vaguely see the branching paths of the future, of others' futures, but he doesn't understand them and they overwhelm him instead of being anything helpful, and it kind of isn't anything he can even focus on with everything else from all other Embodiments hitting him at once in that form. Has the potential to end up putting himself in a horrific time-loop, if the right factors line up. [Thread idea?] Also the potential for changing shape, especially with his other form's transient nature, but he hardly has the idea of how to look human again when the deepest part of him is now all too aware he isn't.

Zephyr [Emotions, Magic Energy/Spirits]:

NOTE: It's hard to find a singular word that encompasses what I mean with Magical Energy and Spirits/Ghosts. I thought about using Mana given the Polynesian roots of it as a concept are close, but with limited knowledge, I didn't want to misrepresent anything, since it's likely not a perfect 1 to 1. I will be continuing to think of a term to use, since I'm trying to condense the embodiment to one word when possible.

What it is meant to mean is a connection to the concept of Magic itself as an essence and source of energy connecting all things living or otherwise. The idea for how the world works I have is that there is like a second overlapping layer, a thin gossamer veil between the physical world and one created from and filled with magical energy. This well of magic passes through ley-lines like veins or roots and overlap with one another, and spread magic out from there like capillaries so everywhere teems with it. This concept includes spirits as well as ghosts, since without physical bodies they are composed of life-force without a vessel, and need energy to continue existing. They kind of become part of energy by proxy. (link to a post detailing these two beings to a degree).

These are two of the most developed Embodiments Artair has connection to.

When it comes to Energy and Ghosts/Spirits, Artair has a surplus of energy, which is very --- for lack of a better word, magically delicious. Like a raw current. Almost like he himself is a major ley line trapped in a human body, in a sense. It's in his aura, his blood, every cell and atom of his body. It doesn't do much for him, and honestly is part of the reason spellcasting is so hard on him, but also, due to the damage he took to his soul from an event-- he leaks that energy out in the air around him like a bleeding wound of energy.

He has a charm to prevent things from sensing this leaking energy that functions as a glamour, which keeps most strong entities that might sense him from noticing unless they inspect his aura or person too closely-- he still has to sometimes deal with minor spirits hoping to take some, since they give more attention to individuals, but those are easy to wave away. He can see them, regardless if they want to be seen, in their death state or their natural form, due to being linked intrinsically to energy and them being a manifestation of such, given it acts almost as a life-force for them. He is incredibly spiritually intertwined and attuned.

This can manifest within his senses as well. He can see spirits or other beings that are not physical, things like souls and the energy they exhibit. He can also hear spirits even if no one else can, when they speak, which is helpful when they do not have the energy to show or their body is in such a state that speaking would be impossible if they were truly corporeal. He can also smell and taste souls and spirits, in the sense that each one has a distinct 'aura' with equally distinct feelings or scents or 'vibes' which he can pick up on. These often have some kind of taste, touch, smell, and feeling to them. This affects both supernatural and the living, though it's more attuned with incoporeal creatures, since their soul and energy is more exposed. This extrasensory ability also makes him particularly good at reading the aura and energy of spaces as well, usually able to feel where someone died and the echoes of their emotions in that space, as well as find bodies if a ghost is tethered to it. He's also able to sense emotional and energy based auras, which can translate to picking up the vibes or feelings of a place that has more than average, including places that are cursed or haunted, places where strong emotional feelings were felt in excess (a hospital and the loss and death is a very difficult place for him to visit where he's surrounded by the spirits, but even just the place themselves feel so grief-stricken and lonely and angry and scared and-- of death). This can extend to people as well, if they were to be possessed, though unless he already knows you as a person, the overlap and surpression of a soul might not be inherently obvious to him do to being unfamiliar with the soul in question, unless the host is resisting enough to feel like a separate entity to his senses.

Sometimes, Artair will get caught unawares or the entity will be strong or desperate enough, or he will allow it-- and in those cases, an entity not strong enough to appear physically can feed on the energies he emanates, and connect to him. This ends up being overlap between emotion and energy, where spirits tap into him and he-- channels them, in a medium sense. This tends to mean he remembers and sees what happened to them, and they sap his energy, getting enough strength to manifest and communicate. Unfortunately for him, this often leads to reliving the ghost's experience as if he was undergoing it himself.

The fracture to his core and the leaking energy also mean that when someone casts some magical effect on him, it works more effectively, and more intensely on him. This can be a problem, especially since that means using a spell directly on himself is risky as well. He tends to use objects to hold a spell instead. One of the last times he used a spell on himself out of lack of choice, he turned into a merperson, which was meant to last for ten minutes-- and he didn't grow legs for days, and continued growing scales for weeks after.

He is also dangerously vulnerable to possession by entities, which is another reason for the charm's existence.

For the Emotional Embodiment, Artair can pick up others' emotional states. He can feel their emotions as if they were his own, or as sensations. He can kind of get a sense of intentions from others when he's around them, though he still struggles to know exactly what he's feeling unless it's something obvious enough. In this vein, he can also feel pain that others are feeling, emotional or physical.

Overlapping a little with energy again, He can also pick up auras and vibes of people and places and things. A place where bad things happened or something malicious is lurking will feel dangerous and set off silent alarms for him, due to the blend of energy and emotion. He can feel the feelings that infect the air. If he picked up on a memory inside an object, he could tell if it's a warm and soft recollection-- and tapping into its energy, he may be able to experience it himself in a similar way to channeling entities. He may pick up the feelings a ghost is bound in by their presence. He also can pick up a general aura from a person, kind of an imprint of how others feel about them and their own nature-- though I like leaving that to the other mun what their muse would feel like to him as a presence if they want to have it be a thing.

Emotions can also be dangerous. Artair tends to pick up everything, even things people don't want him to feel. And if there's too many people around him, he can get overwhelmed easily by the volume of thoughts and feelings and intentions that each individual brings to him. He's like a radio receiver without any control to direct it into different channels. it's all at once, overlapping. Artair is used to the never-ending noise of everyone, but sometimes it is too much. And sometimes it is hard to tell where he begins and someone else ends, what's real, what's his, and what's just him feeling someone else's emotions.

The other issue is that it goes both ways. while most of the time Artair is the recipient of others' emotions and feelings, if he feels something too deeply, he can accidentally-- reflect that feeling, onto everyone around him. It has only happened once, where he was so heartbroken by the loss of someone that his heartbreak affected everyone in the building and made them grieve with him. He is terrified of that continuing to happen, or controlling someone else. Sometimes, he's afraid of any romantic entanglement, due to the worry that he is somehow reflecting his own affections on them.

Another thing he has done once is....turn all the emotions off. Once when too overwhelmed, he willed himself to feel nothing- and he did. It was almost an overlap of emotions and the void, where he was nothing. It was not a state he enjoyed being in, because it was cold, and empty. He would rather be an empath and help others how he can.

Alistair/Aria [The End, Misfortune {Luck?}, Void]:

This one has hardly manifested in most ways. The biggest is that perhaps in overlap with Vitality, The End will not let him die. At least, not permanently. Coming back and pressing onwards are definitely suffering in their own right; he will just die until he won't. He does have a strong belief that he ruins everything he touches, not entirely unfounded in some regards, and in moments of duress he can cause things to disassemble, architecture to suffer structural damage and crack and crumble, or plants around him to wither and rot. Beings can sometimes feel the effects as a seeping weakness and draining sensation. The End is death and decay of all things, and he effects them in equal measure in that mindset.

Disaster and Misfortune has also manifested, but it does so as if a punishment for Artair for himself: he has abysmal luck, and often bad things happen to him. He has underwent more horrors in his life than many, and has been killed, hunted, tortured, almost eaten, worse. He almost seems to want it now, to be the one carrying all misfortune. Seems to overlap with altruism in his extreme need to protect all others from any harm, and his spiraling if he fails to do so.

The void has only manifested in feeling a empty hollow inside of himself, where due to past harm he has lost pieces of the core of himself. It is also the realization, deep down, that he can do nothing to save anyone, despite any and all efforts. He's doomed to be alone, to be empty, and to lose everything. Especially due to immortality.

The features of Artair that manifest these Embodiments in his other form are visible ribs in his chest, and dark ichor pouring from his body in places, especially where his heart should be, as well as pieces of him breaking off, though that last could also be attributed to possibility as well.

Further Abilities:

Artair can see in the dark. If anyone looks closely, his eyes have a faint glow, and reflect almost like a cat's. Very Cryptic Energy.

When Artair screams, it has a haunting melodic effect. It tends to show cause bad omens and signs of bad luck in the area affected, including cracking mirrors and glass. Anyone who hears it will feel like they are being cut or bruised over their body and their head will ache within an oppressive atmosphere. It ends the moment Artair stops screaming and doesn't leave an lasting physical effects. (Artair is part Banshee on his mother's side. His wail will not kill or mark for death but it still has negative effects)

Artair's singing voice is unnaturally good. He can sing almost any pitch but he leans towards haunting melodic tones that might be unnerving as they are enrapturing for some. He is part siren on his mother's side as well, so his voice is magic and mildly enchanting, but not captivating to the same degree. More likely if you end up listening you might lose track of how long for and find his voice nice to listen to. He can also can hold his breath longer than usual and was a natural swimmer when he was learning.

Artair is immortal. He has not aged since his manifestation began (when he was 22 and lost his left arm). He does not need to eat or sleep as much as a human does; he is unsure if he needs to at all.

Artair has the capacity for weaving spells via Magic. He can tap into almost any kind, though he often suffers whiplash. when he channels the energy through himself to conform it to his intent, the core of his being it would be channeled through is damaged extensively. Between this and the level of strength he has, it tends to have horrific whiplash for him, often damaging his body or weakening him when he casts something strong enough. He can counteract this some, by using materials, often with an aligning meaning to his intent to take some of the brunt and strain.

Artair has eye markings on his body, each one manifesting every time he changes. When in his other form, eyes can be seen through the darker underside of his hair, and floating around him as markings, or in dark areas on his body. He can see through them, when in his other form. As a person, they just mark his manifestation and seem to be a part of his transformation. Sometimes when he's upset and worked up enough, they can start appearing in the air around him. His actual eyes, specifically the iris of his left eye, fractures into pieces when he turns into Something Else.

Artair has wings. While he seems to have some ability to control where they manifest on his body and what kind of wings they are, the colors seem to stay the same. Black feathery wings with a sunset gradient on the inside seem to be the most prevalent. His emotional state seems to conjure them and determine the number and location, depending on what his desire is for. When stressed enough, they will manifest, and likely be to hide himself, or escape, if he can. They also manifest when he is utilizing powerful enough magic. He has not figured out how to summon them at will. NOTE: There are faint eyes on his wings, on the outer primaries. The type of wing that manifests can also vary, between types (elliptical, soaring, etc.) He mostly summons feathered wings similar to a crow's. Moth or Butterfly wings are also possible, with similar coloration. He has wing tattoos along his back and under his pecs, forming into top surgery scars.

He has sharp teeth now, and his blood is red with a gold glimmer. The closer he is to manifesting or changing, the more gold it is. When it dries, it seems to evaporate, but leaves behind a reflective rainbow oil-film interference effect where it had spilled.

Artair can turn into--- Something Else. It's only happened when he's been in too horrible a situation or he's tapped too deep into himself, but he knows he's capable of it now. However, he has no idea how it happened or why or what he is. It's just some fucked up version of him that scares him just as much as he assumes it would terrify anyone else. He thought he was human for the longest time, so this change is hard, because he has no idea how to navigate it, or what he is. Maybe with time he'll come to see it as part of him and embrace it, but for now it is a scary unknown.

[lordgrimwing]

Okay, you must tell us about αβΩ au

I'm going to call it an atypical alpha/beta/omega take on what Middle-earth could be like if the Valar didn't bring the elves to Valinor/the elves refused to go. This all came about when someone did some art of Glorfindel, Erestor, and Elrond and mentioned that it was for an a/b/o au with minimal explanation. Of course, I and @nighttimepatrons went a little crazy over it.

What I've actually written so far is mostly focused on Celebrian, Gil-galad, and Elrond, who are all married and very happy. Celebrian is a princess of the Noldor and Sindar realms and travels gracefully from diplomatic meeting to minor crisis. Gil-galad is a merchant and low-level politician in Lindon working very hard to make sure he's never connected to the High Family (Finwe's family) because thoughts of somehow becoming king haunt his nightmares. Elrond's a healer raised by the nomadic Feanorians who has the unfortunate habit of complicating Gil-galad's life because the path to political upheaval is paved with good intentions (re: bringing Avari Glorfindel to Lindon and picture).

[breaking here because this is getting Long]

The core idea for the au is that Elrond went on an expedition with Pengolodh and others to document one of the few Avari tribes that's been untouched by the outside world since leaving Cuivienen, but the tribe lives within another realm that is very set on keeping them free of outside influences so the research group has to promise to not interact or let themselves be seen by anyone in the tribe. Well, as one might expect, this doesn't go as planned. A great beast of the wilds attacks the group but an Avari they'd been watching (Glorfindel) steps and saves them but is grievously wounded and will die unless they help him. Elrond, being Elrond, insists on doing what he can in the field and on smuggling him back to Lindon on one of Gil-galad's ships when it becomes clear the Avari will die without in-depth medical care.

Really, it's an excuse for me to yank Glorfindel out of his home and shove him into a new culture because I love him being an outsider among the Noldor. (I'm basic, what can I say?)

Nightie and I also think A Lot about Miriel/Indis/Finwe and Feanor :) (spoiler: Feanor gets mirked by some Men which inspires the first Manslaying)

Anyway, you might be wondering what any of this has to do with a/b/o. Well, in the 'modern realms' like the Noldor and Sindar, very little importance is put on if someone's an alpha (Celebrian), beta (Gil-galad), or omega (Elrond). Sure, sometimes someone could have hormonal things that make them act a bit different (re: Elrond's nesting habits), but it's no big deal. HOWEVER, the Avari tribe has Very Different feelings on the matter.

The tribe believes that an evil spirit or force causes elves to become alphas or omegas (they don't use those terms but whatever). There isn't much they can do if someone becomes an omega, but generally omegas can live a normal life but just lose control of their bodies sometimes. So, omegas can stay in the tribe but don't have much respect unless they dedicate themselves to healing and or soothsaying etc. Alphas, on the other hand, are considered violent and dangerous and are not allowed to stay with the tribe after reaching adulthood unless they go through a ritual to cast the evil spirit from them. This involves a moderate degree of mutilation and pain and is very unpleasant and sometimes people die during it.

Glorfindel's an alpha. He went through that ritual and is a very good warrior/hunter/protector for the tribe. He is very proud of his scars.

This makes things a bit awkward in Lindon, where everyone is horrified by this thing that he takes deep pride in.

Anyway, that's a lot and there's even more but I should probably stop (warm hug if you read all that).

[symbioticsimplicity]

I have a theory that someone else has probably already put out but I haven't seen it so here we go.

I don't think Alastor is actually all that powerful.

Propaganda under the cut.

There are a lot of things that make me think this but we'll start with the first and frankly most obvious to me.

His methodology. Alastor's main thing is making contracts and deals. When we're first introduced to him in the pilot, its with a warning to never make a deal with him. While plenty of other Overlords obviously wheel and deal, I think Alastor's are different. They're more binding and more dangerous because they're his modus operandi.

Another thing is his seeming lack of territory. Every Overlord has actual terf that we see them in, except for Alastor. This could be from lack of interest, or due to having been gone so long, or what have you but it seemed like a strange thing to have not mentioned. In addition, Carmilla, who was leading a meeting on the property and interests of all the represented Overlords and how to protect it, was utterly dismissive of his sudden return. Which to me implies that whatever he controls is likely minimal at best. Meaning him being there is pretty inconsequential to the larger picture. Dude was able to disappear for seven years and it was mostly fine? So what does he actually have?? (My only thought honestly is that maybe the air is his space since radio waves and all. That would honestly be broke as hell but there's no real evidence for this, is would just be really cool.) As much as Vox as making a dig at him, he did have a good point that the reach of radio has certainly died down over the years. While that alone doesn't mean Alastor's power has waned, its not really a *good* sign for him. He still has speakers all over but that and one really rundown store front with a single radio are really the only traces we see of him outside of the hotel.

This bit is conjecture, but when talking about his past, not only does no one ever mention HOW he killed so many powerful Overlords, they don't go into detail about much at all. There's every chance that he could have contracted them the same way he did with Husk and either forced or waited for them to break their end of their deals and THEN used them as fodder to terrorize the masses. Most of his power comes from fear and word of mouth. Most people don't even bother fucking with him because they've heard the stories, or the broadcast.

Which brings me to my next point: The Broadcasts. There are a LOT of ways that Alastor and Vox parallel each other and I can't help but wonder if using their medium to deceive people isn't one of them. So far a lot of the magic we see Alastor use is largely illusionary. Phantoms and shadows and temporary changes of environment. So what if his broadcasts are the same? What if he DOESN'T kill the Overlords he claims to have and instead used his broadcast to simulate it instead. Like War of the Worlds, but on purpose. Honestly it would be smart of him, especially if he's NOT as strong as he seems. This is also conjecture but if he made deals with those Overlords instead, he could still have them stashed away somewhere and just be calling on them and their power as needed. (Also: Husk. This man is a constant pain in the ass and usually disrespectful at best. The only time he pops off on him about it though is when Husk mentions his deal which is really just a big No-No. But he still only *threatens him* which to me implies that he actually does need him. If not for his services, even if only for the power granted by his contract. In the same way that Val doesn't actually kill Angel or anything because he can't REALLY afford to, so he controls him in other ways. If Al isn't this super strong demon, he can't really afford to just go wasting the contracts hes got due to momentary irritation when he can bring them back to heel with some light terror.)

The next thing that makes me think he's probably not super powerful is his fight with Adam. Not because he lost (I firmly believe he only actually lost because he was fucking around most of the time/ wasn't fighting for loved ones) but because of the form he took to do it. He was in a life or death fight with an ostensibly high ranking angel, and yet he didn't pull out anything more than he would have used to fight other sinners. Sure, that could be him being prideful, but I just don't think so. Home boy was being recorded and presumably knew that, if he was being prideful shouldn't he have gone balls to the wall??

In relation to that, he also made a deal himself. Not that we know what it was for or who its with, but would someone as control oriented as Alastor really make a deal if he didn't HAVE to? Overlords don't just DO that, there had to have been a compelling reason and honestly assuming Alastor isn't as strong as he makes himself out to be gives a very good opening for it.

Smaller detail, but it still matters, the smiling. He very clearly uses it as both a shield and a tool to help him maintain control of a situation. Thats not really the kind of thing you think of and commit to if you're the strongest person in the room. Covering up weaknesses obsessively is the sort of thing someone who's fronting does so their secret stays exactly that.

In the same vein, the way he reacted to Lucifer. He was threatened, which is understandable given that Luci is leagues above even the strongest Overlords, but I think it was slightly more than that. Having Lucifer around would make it drastically obvious very quickly that Al isn't as strong as he claims. So of course he tries to unbalance the situation and put focus somewhere else, the same as he always does. (Its actually the same thing he does in his duet with Vox. I'm almost certain Vox IS actually stronger than Alastor but hes so wrapped up in Al's head games he might never notice.)

It's honestly unclear if this has always been the case with him, or if its a result of his deal or his time away or something else entirely, but to me it seems incredibly likely. Alastor mostly keeps order and power through fear, not through enormous shows of power. And even those when he does them are strategic and mostly against opponents he knows are weaker than him. He's clever as all fuck, and still very dangerous for it but I don't think hes actually all that physically powerful.

[dreamties]

Sissy Slaughter W/ an S/O Who Has Sleep Issues!

A/n- This feels like such a throwback?? I remember writing several sets like this at the start of the blog! <:O Like, all the way back to 2021 I think? Maybe earlier, actually! Hope you all enjoy! I love you all & please stay safe out there! 💗💗💗

Warning for: mentions of pot use, poisoning / knocking someone out??? but it's like. done for sweet nice purposes?, Drayton cameo at the end !!

taglist: @friedwormeater @0ddmia @royalsnowxoxo @lambofjudgement @lizve @urfavsuh @strawberry-moonpies (let me know if you want to be added or removed!! <3333)

I swear I've said this somewhere before- but sissy grows & smokes her own pot <333

I'm not saying she'll suggest that as an option but I'm saying she'll suggest it as an option

If your sleep is more than just cumbersome for you- if it's affecting you physically (beyond exhaustion), affecting your ability to complete chores, etc - she may need to bring out the big guns

She knows what plants are toxic, what plants can kill and torture She also knows ones for healing !! (side thought: she uses this mostly on herself & bubba. She acts like a pain when anyone sides her youngest brother wants her for her useful abilities) And most important in this case- ones that can knock folks out !! <333 with minimal to no damage done to them She only uses plants to knock you out when you're at your worst point. When you haven't slept for days, and your eyes are irritated and red. When you're in pain all over and can barely stand up. You might not always appreciate this method- but it can work wonders <333

On some nights, when it's particularly rough for you, she'll stay up with ya <333 keep you company.

You don't deserve to go through this, especially not by yourself. Despite her poisoned personality, she can be a real sweetie around her favorite folks <33 (you bein one of em :3) Do you get nightmares? Is that the root of your sleepy time troubles? She'll sit up in bed and pull you close to her. Let you lay down with your head in her lap as she touches your hair and quietly sings. Lulls you into a safe, cozy slumber- or at the very least, calms your mind. A few times she's taken you outside to walk along the property . . . She shows you critters that come out at night, takes you closer to where she has the makeshift greenhouse set up- tells you about all the plants she's been caring for, what their uses are, let's you engage on the topic too, even if you don't know as much as her. Anything outdoorsy that she can do to tire you out, in hopes if you're sleepier you might sleep better.

Sissy has far more experience and knowledge than her siblings do, in regards to life outside the farm that is- but even she can be at a loss of ideas.

If she's really worried she might go to Drayton, ask if he knows what's wrong with you. (he grumbles throughout the entire process, things like "never should have taken them in", and "more trouble than they're worth" he mostly doesn't mean that <33 you're part of the family now so :) ) It's almost like you're a strange pet that she's keeping, because of how alien your issues can feel to her and the rest of the family. In general though !!!! All of the youngest siblings will ask Drayton about the things they don't understand, even if he isn't very knowledgeable on it either. Even if they don't get along with him much (which . . . Who does get along with him lmao)

"They seem sick," Sissy muses. She's sitting at the dining table, your body lying limp on the floor, propped up against her legs. Your head held safely in her lap. She had knocked you out with a non-lethal poison, despite your protests against it.

The poison could be helpful in getting you unconscious, but Sissy hated using it so frequently on you, especially since it doesn't appear to solve the root problem.

You're still having trouble falling or even staying asleep, she's worried about you.

"Should've gotten rid of it when we had the chance."

"C'mon, you've got to know something about this, Drayton. Ya better haven't given my little darlin' something they can't have."

Your head lolls against her lap, your ears slowly perking up with the noise. Your chest tickles with a funny, loving feeling. Your heart beats slow, quicker as you wake. Your girlfriend was so sweet to you.

She talks to her oldest brother like he's given the dog chocolate. She's concerned and trying to be patient, despite her immense dislike of him.

She runs her hands, soothingly, down your back. Noticing her sweetheart is beginning to wake.

"Oh, why don't we look at that. All this is waking up my poor thing." She glares at him, unintrigued, upset with him. She looks back to you, your head following the noise and your eyes unlocking, staring back at her with such an intensity. Lids hardly-half open. She pets your hair, hoping you'll just pass out or be quiet or something.

Sissy huffs. "Fine! We'll just figure it out on our own. You hear that, darlin'?"

She smiles at you, so sweetly. Looks at you like you're the only thing in the room. Like you're precious and irreplaceable- which you are, to her. Your smile gleams and your eyes sparkle when you look at her.

She whispers to you, helping you off the floor. "We'll figure this out, don't you worry."

Hey, I didn't say he would actually be helpful. just that they would ask lol

[rising-volteccers]

Hi, I read all of your works so far and really enjoyed them. Thank you for sharing your writing. Could you write the “You do feel a bit warm” for Friede?

Thank you for sending this prompt! This one is a mix of headcanons and personal experience so I hope that it's a nice read still!

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Murdock, Mollie

--

At some point, Friede must've fallen asleep given that he stirs from the light shakes on his shoulder. His face scrunches prior to yellow eyes slowly opening, at first squinting from the light until a few hard blinks clears up his vision.

The first thing he notices is the state of his back. It aches something fierce, no doubt caused by his poor sleeping posture on the captain's chair. Friede tries not to make it a habit but at times, the tug of sleep is stronger than his will to stay awake throughout the night. At least he recalls putting the ship on auto pilot, lest they'd be drifting off course and he gets another lecture from Orla for wasting precious fuel.

Next, he's made painfully aware of the dull, persistent pound in his head. It's clustered around the left side of his head, as if he's caught between a Cloyster's shell. Without even moving his head, he knows the pain lances down his neck as well.

Friede carefully adjusts himself to sit up properly. That small movement alone makes him wince from how fiercely his body protests.

"Are you alright?" A deep, concerned voice asked. Murdock's visage enters his line of sight moments later.

"Mm..." Friede gingerly cradles the left side of his head before he drops his hand. A soft groan slips out, a mix of pain and realization of what this is. He makes a surprised noise when a different hand, rough and slightly calloused briefly presses against his forehead, pushing his goggles up slightly.

"You do feel a bit warm..." Murdock uttered, pulling back moments later. "Think you're getting sick?"

"Not that," Friede mumbles, eyes sliding shut once again. "'s one of those 'gain..."

"One of those...? Oh! Oh..." He vividly pictures Murdock's expression shifting from realization to one of deep sympathy.

It's no secret to the Rising Volt Tacklers that their leader seemingly has boundless enthusiasm and energy. Always wanting to be on top of things, never really staying still if he can help it. The only thing that keeps him down is the migraines he gets from time to time. That's when he can't do much but suffer miserably until his head stops mimicking that of a construction site with all the drilling and pounding that goes on.

(Back when the crew is still new, Mollie helps develop some measures for him to take when he admits to having them. Mostly it's getting plenty of sleep if he can, figuring out what sort of foods that trigger migraines and exercise somewhat regularly. Friede finds that he rarely gets them these days after employing these measures into his everyday life).

It's been... months at least since his last one. Friede tries to think of what could've been the trigger but stops as his brain retaliates in protest. Right, minimize thinking. Don't spur on the angry construction workers in his head.

"I think we should get you back to your cabin," Murdock says in a soft voice. Friede appreciates it since he's particularly sensitive to noise right now.

"Mngh..." he responds unhelpfully.

"Can I touch you, Friede?" Murdock asks. "I'll help you."

Friede doesn't dare nod his head so he makes what he hopes is an affirmative noise. He feels Murdock's hands on him and then suddenly, he finds himself upright. If not for the other's gentle yet firm hold, Friede might have find himself acquainted with the floor.

"Sorry, sorry." There's a rushed, frantic edge to Murdock's voice when Friede leans most of his weight against the sturdier man. "C'mon, we'll take it nice and slow."

It's safe to say that without Murdock's aid, Friede won't make it past the first few steps towards the deck's exit. He feels the vibration of each step, feeling like a powder keg's gone off in his head every time his foot makes contact with the ground. He thinks that he's made some sort of wounded noise given that Murdock's softly assuring him.

What feels like an eternity later, his surroundings darken as they step into his dim room. Murdock carefully deposits him on his bed though before Friede can curl up into a ball, he feels hands on his shoulders.

"Let's get that jacket and goggles off first."

Murdock does most of the work given the pain has intensify to the point that he's as coordinated as a newborn Girafarig. An odd noise slips out at the hands that's working on getting his goggles off as well as untying his hair from its usual low ponytail. Murdock spouts off more soft apologies that Friede wishes he has the energy to respond to.

At last, Friede finally gets to lay down. He feels Murdock gently tugging his boots off too so once that's done, he curls up underneath the blanket that is draped over him.

"I'll be back soon with stuff that'll help," Murdock utters before he quietly leaves the cabin, leaving Friede to suffer in abject misery until he gets some form of relief or sleep claims him. It's hard to tell the passing of time when all he can feel is the shooting pain behind his left eye but he does flinch from the sound of the door being opened again.

"Hey, Murdock told me." Unsurprisingly, Mollie comes to check up on him.

"Ngh... can't 'gure out why..."

"Don't worry about that now. Here." Friede feels a slender arm slide behind his shoulders to aid him in sitting up. He groans at the movement but dutifully accepts the pills that Mollie hands him. Slowly, he swallows them down with the glass of water she brought with her. After that, she helps him in laying back down. Friede hopes that he'll get relief soon.

"Just try and relax, get some sleep," she says, tugging up the blanket to cover him once more. "I'll check up on you again later. Don't worry about the crew. We'll handle things in your absence," Mollie adds in a quieter voice.

She leaves him be soon after, though her presence is quickly replaced by Murdock's. Friede bites back a grumpy huff from having his attempt at rest continuously foiled.

"Hey, sorry about that. Thought this would help you."

Fingers gently brush away his bangs before something soft and cool settles on his forehead. The immediate relief it brings loosens the tension in his body, making him sigh softly.

"Feels good, eh?" There's a brief bout of silence. "When you feel better and up for it, I'll give you something light to eat. Sounds good?"

Food doesn't sound particularly appealing at the moment but later? Friede makes an affirmative noise. If he can scrounge up the appetite to eat, then he won't miss up on Murdock's cooking.

"Alright, I'll leave you to get some rest. Feel better soon." Friede hears the slowly fading footsteps prior to the door being closed once more. Though, it appears that he miss the soft pitter patter of tiny paws scampering inside up until he feels them settle against his blanketed legs.

"Cap," Friede murmurs. He manages to free one arm from the blanket so his partner can nuzzle against his palm.

"Pikapi..."

"It'll be fine. Just... need some rest..."

Friede can feel Cap making his way up till he's settled in the crook of his arm, warm furry body pressed against his side. A ghost of a smile paints his lips before he slowly exhales.

Honestly, he's got the best crew anyone can ever ask for.

With the medicine kicking in and the comforting pressure of Cap by his side, he finally relaxes enough to fall into slumber.

[findingariaene]

It feels hard to accept that I have value. Hard to trust in that being a reality. Subjectively, I know I have some value to others in such and such or so and so way, though it's easy to downplay or minimize said value. Concrete, enduring value; it's hard for me to say that life even has that sort of value. I feel like it's true, but then I also eat meat, don't I? And my ability to care intensely beyond my immediate circles is diminished, even though I'm still a fairly bleeding heart type.

The notion of, 'doing good makes you worthy' is hard to shake. For me, rather than everyone; it's far easier for me to be like, 'everyone deserves some understanding and respect for their personhood' even if they're a horrible affliction on others. Double standards. Why? Double standards seem really common in society, at least in our society, whether it's outwardly benevolent or cruel. 'I deserve more,' 'I deserve less.' I recognize the self-preservation, selfish defenses of 'I deserve more consideration/forgiveness/excuses' and it's been easy to push toward unraveling that to be less judgmental toward others. It's not frictionless to make progress on that front, but the purpose of it is clear and enduringly worthwhile to me. Being kind toward everyone is another matter, even though I gravitate toward it…

That's a tangent, though. Society bluntly and subtly cultivates that sense of 'not good enough' to fuel unease and its resulting purchases. Yay, capitalism. Then, personally, the wound of a willfully absent mother grew its own seed of worthlessness. That 'I wasn't worth sticking around for' grew much, much larger than what my dad sticking around communicated to me. It's too easy to dismiss his behavior as being morals and conviction, rather than proof of value. There's further unsettlement at his recent revelation that he got back with my mom so that my brother could be born to the same parents as I; that was more of a priority to him than being with her longterm, after she cheated on him and left the first time. I can't say how 'good' of a person my dad is, honestly. He's tangled between violence and not in a way I struggle to describe - heck, he struggles to adequately describe it, and I've asked many times.

Again, a bit of a tangent.

So, origins of double standards are clear enough. Why do they persist, though? Memories of arrogance, the shock of wounding others; they're hard to forgive in myself. To not build limiters and recursive incrimination to avoid inflicting pain again. Of course it's blurred the line between diligence and censure. Over time, disgust over indulgent self-pity proved more effective than else in driving me toward changing these behaviors. Not self-love or support. Which isn't to say I stopped feeling I deserved some castigation, I just… bled away the effort. Let it be belief with minimal activity.

That toxic mix of self-denial and self-hate has eroded much more than the social programming. Which surprises me and doesn't. The more I've leaned into transition, gender fuckery, embodiment, possessing an identity that wasn't mostly performance, the more sway the social programming has gained on me. The need to reach some threshold of femme beauty standards coalesced, specifically. There's a bleak humour in switching from disliking my height for decades to liking it, and not caring about facial hair to occasionally wanting to scar myself to stop growing hair in places. I'm surprised that I'm so surprised by that.

Positive social feedback feels important. More important than it should, from my perspective toward mental health, but social exclusion has always held vast power for our species. We thrive together and crumple alone. Still, clearing away internal notions of worthlessness will hopefully make it easier to selectively receive social feedback and create better filters between self and social programming. Hopefully.

It's enough of a path, anyway, and there's more of a self worth preserving now to motivate me. Self-valuation isn't merely instrumental anymore to the performance; it's vital to thriving. To making the most of what years remain in this life.

[djosephqueery]

Art block's still really really bad so I'm not comfortable posting anything I've doodled recently. Instead I'm gonna ramble at whoever will listen about my witcher au headcanons. This is really long, and mostly just word vomit. Sorry not sorry.

Obviously, I've made Steve analogous with Geralt and Eddie Jaskier. I've seen a couple different interpretations on who would be who, but this is what feels most natural to me.

In my head Nancy is closest paralleled by Yen; they share quite a few narrative themes and are both women I am equal parts in love with and terrified of.

I think Robin most closely fits Triss, except in my version of the story she's the one turning down the prospect of a relationship with Steve. She'd also play a much larger role in his life than Triss did in the show (I've only played a little of the games and haven't read the books, so most of my knowledge is show-based).

And then obviously, because this is a Steddie (and ronance, I'm making it happen) au, it has to diverge from the witcher canon at some point because I don't want endgame stancy. Because I do love a healthy amount of angst though, I am going to keep mostly to canon up through the whole debacle on the mountain. Nancy finds out about the djinn wish and leaves Steve, Steve still gets (unrightfully) pissed at Eddie and leaves him there, everyone's in pain it's great.

But Steve and Nancy don't get back together after that. That's the end of their romantic involvement with each other.

Then the romance with Eddie kicks off after steve breaks the bard out of prison. In the time between the mountain and the prison break Steve's had all his realizations about Eddie (and he's a Witcher, so like it's all tinged with this feeling like he shouldn't get involved, would be better for eddie if he wasn't around, etc etc, which is why he stays away for so long). I'm not, however, making Eddie his bi awakening. Steve's not a teenager/young adult in this au. He's been around. He's known this about himself for a long time, but it's just as inconsequential to him as his attraction to women. It's a fact he knows, but doesn't really matter because he's not destined (in his eyes) for that kind of relationship.

I am torn on how to approach the Child Surprise. Part of me wants to scrap that arc completely and come up with something New.

If I do keep it, then I'm torn on Which kid from the show fits Ciri best. El seems like the obvious choice as far as narrative parallels go- powers she doesn't really understand, her whole life being suddenly upturned and there being insane forces at play that want her for some unknown reason- it's all there. But because we don't get any Steve/El interactions in st it's hard for me to fit her into the Geralt/Ciri dynamic.

Dynamic-wise I think the child should be Max. We see Steve take care of her in the show, and they bicker a little but she trusts him and (ultimately) listens to him. He feels responsible for her in a way that we don't see him feel towards El.

So I'm still undecided on that as of yet.

Robin and Nancy getting together is a lot more amorphous due to the minimal Yen/Triss interactions we get onscreen. But there's plenty of opportunity for that while they're both at Aretuza after Sodden. Nancy having lost her powers, Robin dealing with her own wounds that won't heal, tons of opportunity for bonding over shared trauma and finding a way Forward.

Does Nancy still get tangled up with the Deathless Mother trying to get her magic back? in this au with Robin there with her, would she help? Would this create a divide between Steve and Robin (for a time only, it would Resolve. I'm a stobin lover first and foremost)? So many unanswered questions.