#sorry if this feels unconnected

[nyaskitten]

OK, so, now that I think about it; I don't feel happy blaming Tommy for the hundreds of issues in the show. Don't get me wrong, I still dislike him, but he's not responsible for shit like Harumi's return, or the poor treatment of characters. like Kai. That's the fault of the writers for the most part.

He gets minimal input, he's not a writer, he's a creator and producer, but not a writer!

Tommy isn't the reason Nya returned, nor are the writers, that's the fault of the design team over at Lego, it was an officially mandated thing that they had to bring back Nya.

The sets almost always have to find their way into the show somehow, which is why things like the Golden Ultra Dragon had to exist, because it HAD to be in the show. They COULD have had more oni Lloyd, but it'd be a decision between more set focus or more character focus.

Also, you can't BLAME him for the lack of status-quo changes. They always have to account for the possibility that maybe a character will be required again later on in the future.

[ilikeyoshi]

not to get really deep and personal on tumblr dot com but i think today's therapy session may have been the first ever time i actually felt my mind and my body connect. like. it felt fucking cosmic? the revelation that they were always meant to work in tandem, and that they speak two different languages, thoughts and senses, and that i am their mediator, i am the one who makes sure they both get what they need.

i think this is why it's so common for mentally ill people to "know" their anxiety or depression aren't true to life, that what they're afraid of isn't really happening, and yet the pain persists. because the pain is your body. and your body does not understand words and logic like your brain does. your body needs to have its hand held or its back stroked. your body needs to cry. your body needs to feel and hear the physical sensation of you saying the reassurances out loud, because the words don't translate, but the sensations do. the movement of your mouth, the vibration of your voice.

and if we do not give our body this, then it doesn't matter how much we heal our minds. we have to heal the body too. we have to feel and acknowledge the pain and ask it, "what do you need?" maybe that's a bath. maybe that's lying down and squeezing a pillow really tight. maybe that's screaming at the top of your lungs. maybe that's walking around the block for an hour. whatever it is, it is the body's version of the anxiety and depression and illness. and like the mind's version, it needs to be helped, gently and consistently, until someday it knows that the fear and guilt isn't real.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Sorry to anyone I've ever sent asks to and I put multiple questions in the same ask. I focus so hard on asking enough questions that I forget that sending them all in one ask makes it. Harder to answer

[admiralara]

NIGHTWING 100 

AH

gotta vomit my thoughts somewhere SHIT. Nightwing becoming the center of dc universe, unexpected, surprising but I think contextually and culturally sweet and relevant- titans era seems like its riding on millennial/young adult nostalgia but sure I'm not mad - would actually genuinely love to see dc take a hard stance on bludhaven becoming a successful experiment of change in the main canon story line, I think its time for a lasting change and I think it fits this new post crisis theme - like I can totally see stories in which Gotham, or star city, or wherever go through major disaster and recover with bludhaven outreach like that makes sense to me - I don’t really want the rest of the batfam to step up as much , I kinda like where they are now, most of them staying in Gotham, Tim can be with young justice whenever, Jason preferably out doing his own thing like in Joker 2022 - and last but not least GOOD DAD BRUCE. DICK BRUCE HUG CALLING HIM DAD CALLING HIM SON LIKE. YALL AUTHORS ARE DONE NOW RIGHT?? WE KNOW BRUCE IS FUNDAMENTALLY A GOOD PERSON NOW RIGHT??? AND WE CAN STOP REGRESSING HIS DAMN CHARACTER ????

[yesbutmakeitgay]

Pain Is Just A Simple Compromise

Carol Danvers x Reader

We’ve Loved A Thousand Lives

Part 1

Summary: Unconnected oneshots exploring your relationship with Carol amongst many universes. Same beginning, different story every time.

A/N: First installment of a new collection I've been working on. Every part is individual and can be read in any order. Content warnings will be noted in each part.

Angst with a happy ending.

Word count: 1.9k

Masterlist | This collection | AO3

Captain Marvel enters her ship after another successful mission wanting for nothing more than to relax and rest while reaching her next destination, that is until she senses someone else’s presence in her space home.

She walks slowly, pointing one of her lit up fists in a general forward direction, "I know you’re in here, who are you? Who sent you?" she warns the intruder.

A human silhouette appears in her line of vision, it’s arms up in surrender. She continues to walk towards it until she can make out the person’s face.

"It’s just me," you announce, hoping that’s enough to deter her threatening state.

Carol sighs in annoyance and puts her fist down, you do the same with your arms, "How did you get in?" she questions in a harsh tone.

"Kamala…" you hesitate, unsure if you need to elaborate on your answer, her eye roll and cursing under her breath tells you, you don’t.

"What do you want?" she follows, clearly angry.

You try to keep your voice as neutral as possible, "I wanted to talk."

"Now’s not a good time."

"It’s never a good time, is it?"

"Make it quick, I have somewhere to be." Carol is growing more impatient by the second.

"Oh, good, I was just on my way to wherever it is you’re going." You sit down on the couch making sure to exaggerate your motion, so The Captain knows you’re not leaving anytime soon.

Accepting her defeat, Carol walks to the control panel of her ship to set the coordinates for her next mission, "I’m gonna take a shower, you make yourself at home," she grumbles, still annoyed.

When Carol comes out she searches for you on the couch, but doesn’t find you there, instead, she walks towards the noise coming from the kitchen.

"I made your favorite," you bargain, in hopes that a warm, home cooked meal will make The Captain a little more amicable.

"Thanks," she responds dryly, but you don’t miss the way her eyes light up when she sees the dish.

You both sit at the table and eat in silence. When you’re done, Carol attempts to get up and clear the plates, but you stop her with a hand on her shoulder, "I got it." You feel how her entire body stiffens under your touch, so you let go immediately.

You do all the dishes and tidy up the small mess you made, along with the bigger mess that was already there before you arrived.

Carol leans on the counter, her features slightly softer than when she first saw you, "So…?" she asks expectantly, when she receives no answer, she presses harder, "I thought you wanted to talk."

You stand still in front of her, your heart pounding in your chest, "I figured when we got to this point I would know what to say," you begin slowly, "I’m sorry for the way we left things off."

She lets out a humorless chuckle, "You’re sorry?" she mocks, "you show up to my home after 4 months and all you can say is you’re sorry?" Her voice gets louder, not holding any of her emotions back. "I looked for you everywhere, I called everyone I know! Have you any idea how worried I was about you?" Tears are now streaming down her face.

"I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t have a choice," you plead, trying to maintain your composure.

"You are unbelievable!" she yells back, "No goodbyes, not even a note? You could have said something!"

"No, I couldn’t," It comes out as a whisper, "I tried, but you wouldn’t listen," she scoffs, "you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you barely acknowledged my presence. You were working yourself to death." She takes a few steps away, her head down and her back facing you, "Carol-"

"Don’t," she hisses, her voice is laced with poison. She turns back to look you in the eye, "Leaving on the day of our anniversary sounds like a very conscious choice to me."

There is silence for a moment, the air so tense it feels like hours.

"I didn’t leave on our anniversary," you pronounce every syllable carefully, she frowns with a mixture of anger and disbelief, "I left three days before that, I couldn’t bare the thought of spending it alone, so I left."

Carol sits on the couch, her face full of confusion, you can almost hear the millions of thoughts going through her head, "It took me three days to notice you were gone?" she whispers, a loud sob escaping her.

You take a cautious step towards her, "I couldn’t help you, but I could make you realize that you needed help, I’m so sorry, angel," you tell her softly, no longer able to hold back your own tears. She nods shakily, barely registering your words.

After some time you collect yourself again, "It’s getting late, you should get some rest, I’ll take the spare room." She nods again and goes to her bedroom wiping her tears away.

You stand still until she closes the door and take a deep breath. A familiar feeling of fur helps you settle your emotions, "I missed you too, Goose."

When you wake up, Carol is already gone to her mission. You decide to make yourself useful and clean the place up for her.

The Captain returns to her ship, she takes her boots off and pulls her suit down to her waist. You walk out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel covering your lower half, unaware that she was back already. When Carol sees you she instantly turns around mumbling some apology, you rush to cover yourself, "I didn’t think you’d be back so soon."

"It’s okay," she quickly reassures.

You run to the spare room to put on some clothes you borrowed. When you come out Carol notices her sweater on you, but makes no comment about it.

She walks into her bedroom to find a change for herself, "Did you wash my sheets?" she asks plainly.

"I did, they were getting a bit musky."

"Thanks," she mumbles, somewhat ashamed of the state of her home, you simply nod in response.

Later that evening you sit at the table again to have dinner together. You try to make small talk and she attempts to humor you, but the interaction is awkward, as if you had never spoken to each other before. You are close to giving up when you notice a red stain on her t-shirt.

"What’s that on your shoulder?" you worry.

"Huh?" Carol looks at where you’re pointing.

"Did you injure yourself?"

"I don’t think so."

"Let me have a look," you insist, already getting up from your seat. You pull up a chair beside her and lift the sleeve off her shoulder. Right underneath the stain you find a prominent cut, still bleeding.

"It’s a nasty one, let me clean it up for you."

"You don’t have to do that," she’s quick to respond.

"Do you not want me to?" you challenge her.

She stares at you for a moment, "Fine."

She’s hesitant at first, but as you get to work on patching her up she relaxes into the familiarity of your touch.

"All done," you chirp with a satisfied smile when you’re done.

You look up from her shoulder, your faces impossibly close and before thinking twice she leans in to kiss you. Once she realizes what she’s done she pulls away, "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that."

You linger for a bit, "It’s okay," you whisper into her ear before walking away to store the first aid kit.

A few days go by and you fall into a routine, one far from the perfect harmony you used to have before, but it's a good start. Carol goes from planet to planet completing her various missions and you stay on the ship making sure it remains in livable conditions.

"Incoming call from Earth," the spaceship announces, you’re in Carol's room tidying up and decide to take the call there.

"Hello?" you yell out, waiting for the image to load. A smiling Kamala greets you from her home, "Hi, baby, what's up?" she blushes at the pet name.

"Hey! Just checking in, it's been a minute."

"How sweet and pure of you to worry about me without any ulterior motive," you tease her, fully aware of her intentions.

Unable to keep it together, she drops the act, "Have you talked to her? Did guys make up? Tell me everything!"

You chuckle at the girl's antics, "Um, yes and no," Kamala looks at you attentive, "we talked, but I wouldn't say we made up."

"What? Why? What did she say?" The girl can't help herself.

"It's complicated, a lot has happened," you pause, "she did kiss me briefly, but I haven't dared to bring it up again."

Kamala's eyes light up, "She kissed you?" she repeats with the biggest smile on her face.

"Yes, it was nice." All of your confidence is suddenly gone.

You continue talking and catching up together.

When Carol gets back on the ship she finds it is suspiciously quiet. She calls out for you, but receives no answer, prompting her to search for you all over her home, unsuccessfully.

The worst thoughts start running through her mind, she rushes to her room for a communication device and finds you sound asleep on her bed. She lets out a relieved sigh trying to be annoyed at the sight, but coming up empty.

She pulls the covers over you and goes to lay down on the other side of the bed. You instinctively cuddle into her, still in your unconscious state, and she can't even try to deny you, she holds you closer and places a kiss on your forehead.

The next morning you wake up before Carol, it takes you a moment to realize you're in bed together and she has her arms around you. A part of you wants to stay and enjoy the moment, but you decide against it, not remembering how you got in that position in the first place.

You carefully get up and make your way to the kitchen to get started on breakfast.

Right as Carol's alarm goes off, you use the laser to get Goose to make coffee the way your Captain likes it.

"Morning," you greet her when she comes out.

"Morning!" she responds in a livelier tone than usual.

You sit to eat together expecting to have another awkwardly silent meal.

"So, where have you been?" she requests after a while, "I really looked for you everywhere."

"I asked The King to keep a secret," you respond coyly, taking your time to make eye contact.

"Val?" she exclaims with her mouth full.

You smile proudly, "Mhmm."

"But I went to New Asgard, I was in New Asgard!"

"Oh, I know."

Her voice turns small, "I went to get help."

"And some help you got," you smirk.

"Watch your tone," your Captain warns, but you know she doesn’t mean it.

There is a calmness and a sense of comfort that you haven’t felt in a long time, "I’m glad you’re doing better." There is nothing but sincerity in your voice.

"Me too."

Goose hops on the table and drops something from her mouth, you both watch her hop off and direct your attention to the small object.

"Is that your ring?" Carol gasps.

"I didn’t know where I was going, I wanted to make sure it was safe," you put the ring on your finger, where it belongs, "I always knew I was coming back."

Let me know what you think :)

@unicorniusfallapatorius @cordeliasdarling

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

Watching u <3

I've been working on this for a while. Off and on since late June. Believe it or not, I have actually been having ideas throughout my entire hiatus, it was just a case of not being able to really write anything down...

This is probably darker than some of my other stuff, I just feel like I should say. Please do not read this if you're uncomfortable with this. Thank you, and have a good day/afternooon/night.

Warning(s): yandere behaviors, explicitly fem reader, death, some sexist stuff (it's not as bad as it probably could be but it's there), incel Idia I know he isn't in canon please don't be mad at me for making him one in this fic, delusional yandere Idia, non consentual kiss, blood hemorrhage mention, unwanted comments about reader's body, implied past trauma, doxxing, breaking and entering

It was a long day of boring classes for Idia. Today was one of those days he was forced to actually attend class in person... ew. He hated it, being around people for that long. But he had a test today, and apparently the professor didn't trust him enough to do it remotely from his dorm room.

Luckily though, Idia had something to look forward to. At the end of the day, when he gets back to his dorm room, almost exactly... something he looks forward to all week will finally start.

What is this thing he is so looking forward to?

Well, what other than your weekly livestream, of course!

He loved everything about you.

He knew everything there was to know about you. He even knew your name, despite you hiding your identity behind a fictitious catgirl persona~

(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N). He loved that name of yours. It felt like honey in his mouth as the words spilled out of him... calling you by your real name without you knowing~

Idia considered you a friend- no, even MORE. He wasn't friends with you, no no no no no! You were his lovely little girlfriend! Cute and submissive and everything... ohhh, he loved you so much. Hearing your voice... listening to you... answering you like you were right next to him... donating to you every time you streamed, copious amounts of money... participating in chat every now and again, to have an actual dialogue with you... he didn't like talking with other people, oh, but he ALWAYS made an exception for you.

You two have even started chatting outside just your streams. He's a mod for your streams now, as well as on your personal server... you were a bit apprehensive about that at first, but don't worry, he convinced you!

One time, you confided in him about some... serious issues you went through irl. It was so cute, imagining you in that situation.

Oh, you've been through so much together... you're practically dating at this point! Oh... but maybe he should actually ask you, just to make sure you know you're dating him. Just in case. Just in case.

Idia happily logged onto your stream, anxious to watch you... and to pop the question later~

But as he logged on... he... he heard you... say... something...

"Sorry I wasn't able to stream last week... something came up in my real life!" He saw your semi-3d avatar smile, responding to your real expression, no doubt. "I know it sounds crazy, but somehow... I'm dating someone!"

At first, Idia decided to optimistically think about how, maybe you're referring to him... but, as the pre-stream chitchat continued... it became obvious you weren't.

...

HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM?!

In a fit of anger, Idia unsubscribed and blocked you on absolutely everything.

...but then, he thought of something. A nice plan... one that would hopefully make you dependent on him... you'd dump whatever loser you're dating right now... and he would be your only source of comfort.

He unblocked your accounts on his main... and then, he logged onto an alternate account, one that doesn't connect back to him in any way; sorta like what you tried to do with your stream persona, but actually unconnected, unlike yours.

He sent you a message from his sock puppet...

Your stream ended for the day, and... you were confused to see a message from an account you didn't recognize. You thought that maybe it was just a fan deciding to message you, as you get that a lot, but once you accepted the message request to see what they sent...

[xNDRWRLDx] : this u?

...you saw... a picture of yourself... one a family member of yours posted a few years ago... you tried your best to make sure that your online persona didn't connect back to your real life at all, so... how... how did this person get this picture?!

As terrified as you were, you chose to ignore this message. About an hour later, you received another.

Despite your thoughts, screaming at you to not give this person the time of day... that last message just set you off. You decided to respond.

[xNDRWRLDx] : ignoring ppl is rude

[xNDRWRLDx] : u know that, right?

[xNDRWRLDx] : or is ur thick skull not able to comprehend that

[xNDRWRLDx] : lmao yeah, thats prob the case

[xNDRWRLDx] : u could get a much higher paying job if u quit streaming & decided 2 use ur tits & ass 2 ur advantage

[xNDRWRLDx] : getting railed all day would b easier than streaming. u wouldnt have 2 pretend u have a personality beyond "uwu im a girl who plays video games arent i cute??"

You suddenly saw a string of numbers appear on your screen in the next message from this person. Is that your IP?!

[n3k0-ebi] : who tf are you??

[xNDRWRLDx] : o right, u said smth abt not being comfortable w/ talking abt stuff like that

[xNDRWRLDx] : lmfao weak much??? cant even take a joke

[xNDRWRLDx] : wat a pathetic excuse of a human

[n3k0-ebi] : whats your angle dude

[n3k0-ebi] : are you just trying to make me mad on purpose? it wont work, so just leave me alone.

What could this person know? Just what you look like in real life?? As much as you don't want people to know, it... it isn't that bad. You're not going to pose like that. You're not even going to give this person the time of day anymore.

[xNDRWRLDx] : look familiar?

[xNDRWRLDx] : just saying u would look adorable laying under me w/ ur mouth agape & drooling w/ ur eyes half shut <3

[xNDRWRLDx] : maybe if u send me a pic of u looking like that i might consider not sharing wat i know w/ ur entire audience

[xNDRWRLDx] : ur choice bitch

You log off for the night, not giving any more thought to this person's likely hollow threats.

The next day, you woke up, not realizing what happened over night.

You took a nice, relaxing, early morning shower...

Strangely enough, as you left your washroom, you could have sworn you'd seen a strange, blue light outside your hallway window. Probably just your eyes playing tricks on you... or light reflecting off something...

You make your way to your living room, and sit yourself down on the couch, comfy in your bathrobe and hair towel. You turn on the tv so you can half watch whatever comes on, and focus the rest of your attention on browsing Magicam.

...

...that's a lot of notifications.

You decide to look through your mentions first, and... you see a post from that account that was messaging you last night. It details your full legal name, your address, your partner's name, your parent's names, your homeland, every personal detail you could think of was listed in this post.

In a sudden moment of not thinking, you decide to message them.

They... they just sent you... a picture of you coming out of your shower... and then another, of you sitting here on the couch-?!

[n3k0-ebi] : what the hell is wrong with you?!

[n3k0-ebi] : you fucking doxxed me?!

[xNDRWRLDx] : i told u it was ur choice didnt i

[xNDRWRLDx] : u chose 2 not send me that pic i wanted

[xNDRWRLDx] : so really its ur own fault <3

You look out your living room window... but you don't see anybody.

[xNDRWRLDx] : ur not responding?

[xNDRWRLDx] : rude

[xNDRWRLDx] : little missy cant think of anything to say huh

[xNDRWRLDx] : idk wat i expected lmfao

[xNDRWRLDx] : typical 4 a female pretending 2 know stuff cant even hide ur identity properly

[xNDRWRLDx] : wat an idiotttt

The next month is a chaotic one.

Being stalked by so-called "fans"... yourself and your family members being sent weird letters and death threats... your regular workplace firing you... your family and friends cutting ties with you... your partner breaking up with you...

...why did this all have to happen...?

Is this your fault...? Maybe if you had just sent that picture... no, no don't even think about it. That person probably would have done this to you anyways...

...oh...

Oh, you... you have a notification. Since what happened last night, you haven't checked any of your notifications, but... this one... it's from someone you trust...

Idia was absolutely enraged. He could barely even believe what just happened. You have nothing. He is the only person in the world offering you comfort and support, and you just... YOU JUST WRITE HIM OFF LIKE HE'S NOTHING?!

[Gloomurai_] : hey, is everything OK w/ you?

[Gloomurai_] : i just saw you havent rlly been online since what happened

[Gloomurai_] : not that i blame you obv

[n3k0-ebi] : hi gloomy

[n3k0-ebi] : things haven't been great... lol.

[Gloomurai_] : i heard youre single again btw

[Gloomurai_] : that must suck

[Gloomurai_] : i hope this doesnt sound too forward but uh

[Gloomurai_] : is there anything i could do to help?

[n3k0-ebi] : definitely not, but thx for offering

[n3k0-ebi] : it's enough to just know you're there :)

...but, all of a sudden, the anger leaves him. Everything leaves him. All rational thought is gone from his head... and he smiles.

"Ortho... tell the vice leader he'll be in charge of Ignihyde for a while."

"What-? Big brother, why would you-"

"I need to go home for a bit." Idia closes the chat log, and stands up from his chair. "I won't be gone long. I just need to... make a copy of a file on my pc back home and bring it back here. That's all."

Ortho didn't entirely believe his brother...

...it's raining.

It's dark, stormy, the dead of night...

And most importantly, you're alone.

You used to like being alone. Not so much now, now you just feel... unsafe.

What with all the death threats, general threats, your home address and real face now being known... you don't feel safe in your own home anymore.

It's not a pleasant feeling, yet it is one you've felt before. One you never hoped to feel again. It's such a terrible feeling, knowing you might not be safe, in the place that you very well should be...

...

There's a knock at the door.

You are NOT going to answer it.

There are a lot of things that can happen in the exact moment of danger. Time feels like it slows down, and you have to make a choice... fight or flight, your natural instincts.

The door is kicked open and you drop down to at least somewhat hide yourself thanks to your couch. Maybe that pepper spray you lost last month is under there??? Hopefully...

And then... you hear a voice. A strangely familiar, sickly sweet voice.

"Ohh (Y/N)~" It calls out... "Where are youuuu~???"

That voice... you know that voice... you've been in a voice call with that voice before... that voice...

It's Gloomy... someone you thought was your friend...

"(Y/N), I know you're in here. Just show me where you are already. I-I won't hurt you~!!"

You frantically run your hand along the floor under your couch, looking for your pepper spray. You can't help but hope it's under there...

You hit something that rolls out from under your couch... it's exactly what you're looking for, but it also shows him exactly where you are.

A blue glow comes closer as the long, flaming hair drapes over your couch, the tips barely touching you as you lay on the ground. Then you see his face... piercing yellow eyes, and a terrifying, sickening smile full of sharp teeth...

"There you are!"

You scramble away from him in a panic, taking short glances at where the small canister rolled...

"There's no need to look so scared, (Y/N)." He smiles. "It's me, Gloomurai, Gloomy, Idia, your boyfriend."

"W...w-what... the hell... are you talking about...?"

"Are you fucking stupid? I think it's really clear what I said, isn't it?" He scowls at you... not just any scowl, it looks like he completely despised you... before quickly returning to a sickly sweet, and clearly fake smile. "I'm your boyfriend. You're my girlfriend. We've been dating for a long time, and I'm going to be taking you home with me now! I love you so much!"

"W-we've talked a few times... a-and I guess we're friends, but... but we aren't dating!!" You yell, clenching your fists tightly. You're absolutely terrified, but you don't want to just agree with him. There's no way in hell you're going to validate this...

"Yes we are. Do you not remember? Is your single braincell working overtime trying to understand what you already know? Aww, cute kitty..." The intruder suddenly pulls something out from his pocket.

He thrusts the object at you as you avoid it by crawling on your hands and knees as fast as you can towards your small canister. You stand up in the best defensive position you can, being sure to hide your spray from this creep.

"Ugh. Why are you so stubborn?? It won't hurt as much if you just stay still!!" He rushes towards you with the object, it's clear to you now that it is a syringe...

You spray him directly in the eyes as he screeches out in pain.

You run for your front door, hoping you can get away while he writhes in pain... but you feel something prick into your neck... and being flushed into your veins...

"YOU BITCH. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?! I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH!!" He screams at you as you collapse. What is this... what in the world would work this fast...?

"...wh..." You try to ask what this is, before you feel a sudden metallic taste in your mouth, and blood begins to pour out...

"You don't need to know what it is. It's better if you don't know." The intruder shushes you. "I love you so much. I love you. We'll be happy together... me and a better version of you... I'll recreate you perfectly."

...he kisses you on the lips. He wipes your blood off of his face as he pulls away... when you realize he's wearing gloves.

"It won't be long before you hemorrhage all your blood... this stuff works really fast~" He smiles. "At least you'll look pretty as you die."

Idia's life entirely went back to normal after that. In fact, it's been a year since what he did.

Your body was found, but evidence to his crime was not.

Idia is a model student at NRC, despite almost never attending class in person. His grades are phenomenal, he hands in all his assignments in time, and he's going to get a good job when he graduates...

And... in his spare time... he's programming.

Idia is programming an artificial intelligence, based on a certain someone he used to know.

His lovely girlfriend.

"Don't worry... we'll be seeing each other again soon... I'm sure of it. I'll do everything I can to make it true... I love you, (Y/N)."

[strxnged]

TIGHNARI: # second life.

word count. 1.3k. genre. coworkers to lovers? whump confession.

overview. after your confession to tighnari goes exceptionally poorly, you move away from gandharva ville, change your job, and try to forget. however, he comes looking for you in sumeru city.

author's note. oops i wrote another tighnari fic. kinda like him or whatever. he's cool. anyways i have a thing for confessions in the rain so we went with it, enjoy feeling slightly sad and then slightly satisfied in this brainrot-drunk fic. reblogs are appreciated as always!

Your entire disposition shifted helplessly the moment you realized Tighnari was in front of your stall, arms crossed and eyes dark. As your breath hitched, you attempted to neutralize your face—but it was impossible, it was hopeless, to prevent the shake in your voice.

“Good afternoon. What can I get for you?”

He met your eyes with a calculated smile. “Hello, Y/N. May I speak with you on your next break?”

You pursed your lips fleetingly. “No, I will be busy.”

He exuded frustration but you both seemed to try to ignore it. “I have to explain…”

So he was also haunted by the scene that had prompted your permanent absence from Gandharva Ville.  He was also haunted by how it happened, although you were quite sure if given another chance he would have said the exact same thing to you and the outcome would have been the same.

“Can I get anything else for you?”

“Well…” He sighed, studying the shop’s goods. “Tell me, how fresh are these Niloptala Lotuses?”

“Picked this morning.”

“I’ll have a dozen.”

You kept your eyes on the lotuses as you packaged them for him, carefully folding the leaves on each to protect the small flower within. In a small, watertight box, you organized them in three lines of four, carefully covered it with a straw lid, and pushed it towards him. “That will be forty thousand mora.”

He paid you, and you felt the shape of something in your hand that was not a coin. Before you could understand what it was, and try to give it back to him, he had carried off his vessel and disappeared. But now you wished he would come back, because you had realized it was a note. It read “Collei, of all people, urged me to come to the Bazaar and find you so that I would ‘stop being so miserable.’”

You folded the note and pocketed it, scanning the crowds for any sign of him.

It didn’t make sense. Did he want you to come back to the village, and forget about what had happened? Was he hoping you had gotten over your feelings for him by now, and that you were willing to be a Ranger again?

It wasn’t going to work. Your feelings, if anything, had grown stronger, overpoweringly so. That had been the reason you’d left, hoping in vain that a job unconnected to the Forest Rangers would permit you some distraction. You could think of it so clearly, the hot tears that had been on your face as you had finally said it. “I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with you, Tighnari,” you’d said. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

You remembered how his hand holding the beaker of pollen concentrate had frozen, how he’d said nothing for a terrible minute.

He looked up at you, his eyes… fearful? You still couldn’t decide what you had seen in his expression, although you had certainty it hadn’t been positive.

“You can’t,” he had said. “You don’t know me.”

“I—I know you well enough.”

His voice had been cold, and his expression had turned adamant. “You don’t.”

You had thought about this nearly every day since. It had been weeks, and it still gripped and squeezed your heart every time.

Your break came, and you took it promptly. You would find him, if only to tell him you were sorry you had been in his life. You spotted, with some awkwardly elaborate ducking, Collei and a few other Forest Rangers. If they saw you, they’d try to connect with you again, and you couldn’t bear it. News of the angstful aforementioned events, you were sure, had spread between Rangers. Oh, it was humiliating.

You continued out of the Bazaar. It was raining in Sumeru City today, and you were grateful for the Bazaar’s cover. You now regretted not bringing with you any kind of hat or umbrella, as your uniform was going to be drenched. 

You did not know where Tighnari might be since he did not appear to be in the Bazaar. You had headed to the South entrance, struck with the idea that perhaps his acquaintance Rohawi would know—maybe he had stopped to greet him, and shared at least the purpose of the visit to Sumeru City visit.

But you didn’t get far. The rain picked up, and you immediately found shelter as it was necessary. Said shelter happened to be the overhang on the side door of the Jewler’s shop. You rested against one of the pillars, and wiped some rain off of the top of your head.

Then, you stared.

Tighnari stared back at you from beside the opposite pillar, hair also dripping to the wooden floor.

“Tighnari—”

“Y/N—”

You both went quiet, and then he sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you, it was… You may be right that I can’t love you with how little I know about you, but I… I can’t help it Tighnari, and I’m afraid that ruined everything.”

“But it’s my fault you misunderstood,” he said. “You are the first to confess to me in such a way, and it caught me off guard. However, that does not excuse how I reacted.”

“You were being honest.”

“I was being brackish. I did not take the time to acknowledge your emotions, nor my own, as I responded in the logical and cruel way that is most natural for me.”

As a contrast to the bustling, noisy marketplace atmosphere that you had been speaking over earlier, the thunder and rain were isolating. You seemed to be the only voices in the tunnel of weather. “But you were still right. I didn’t know you well enough to understand… and how can I defend my feelings for you then?”

Tighnari reached for your hand, hesitating only an inch before he grabbed it. Then, he lifted it and covered it with his other hand. “The truth is,” he said, “I feel a certain kind of way for you that I’ve not felt for anyone in a long time. It is… frightening. But—” He looked you in the eyes earnestly, “--You have to understand that I don’t know you as well as I would like to. I would like to know so much about you so that I may love all of you. I would like to study you, your likes and dislikes, your fears, your passions. I want to know what makes you tick, Y/N. I want to be with you so that I can observe you, and so that you might, in return, get to know me, too.”

You wanted to ask him if he meant it, but you knew the answer. His eyes said the rest.

“May I hug you, Tighnari?” you said, unable to think of anything else.

His voice broke as he said, “Of course you may, my dear friend.”

You finally stepped forward and embraced Tighnari, finding the dampness of your clothing only comforting, somehow. He smelled like the trees, and rain, and home. He held you sturdily and decidedly, one hand on the center of your back and one on the back of your head. He was unwilling to let you go until his heat had warmed you some.

When you finally released, he took your face in his hands and planted a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“May I get to know you, Y/N?”

author's note. when i wrote the bit with the note i couldn't help but think about a "new item acquired: tighnari's note" notification on the side of the screen LAFKHLADS

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (Part 5)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

(this continues directly after Part 4, Hob reads the rest of Dream's entry)

Negligence and luck were my saviours in the end. I managed to escape and take my revenge. I have recovered my tools of office and my power. I am free. And yet I feel like part of me is still trapped inside that basement, as unconnected to the world around me as I was before, but in a different way. Before I was captured I felt, if not above then distinctly separate from humanity; I resented that my existence depends on them, on you. I felt detached, outside of what should be intimately familiar to me. Now I am able to recognise that, but to overcome my reluctance to embrace humanity more is still a struggle. I know that not all of you are like Roderick Burgess but the fear lingers, despite logic telling me there is nothing to fear. I know my function is to serve them and my imprisonment caused great harm to many. I see now why I cannot go on like I used to. I hope that you might help me with getting to know humanity again, as you have so many times before. I confess that in my mind you had stopped being simply a human and therefore outside of how I judged humanity. You might have worried I might look down on you, but in fact I have long since seen you as someone apart from the humans I tend to. For that I am sorry, because you are just as deserving and in need of my attention as everyone else. Your perspective was supposed to help me understand humanity better, to grow closer to humans and I failed to learn my lesson. I only grew closer to you, while completely ignoring that you are human and failing to extend my feelings for you onto the rest of humanity. I was supposed to listen to you and learn what it is like to live a human life, but I did not internalise the lesson. I hope that with time I will become able to value human lives in their entirety and show others more respect and compassion. This will not come easy to me after nearly a century spent in a cage at the hand of a human, but I will try.

I apologise, Hob. All this will not make much sense to you because I have still not told you who I am, and I still wish to do so in person. Suffice it to say that you have already glimpsed the truth and noticed changes that are related to my person and what happened to me. Feel free to guess, my friend, but be assured that I will give you my name soon. Maybe then you will understand the scope of all I’ve relayed to you.

I have laid myself bare for you, my friend. I do not think I could have articulated half of this had we talked face to face. Admitting to my faults and insecurities does not come easy to me. My ordeal has left me with some conditions that I did not know I was capable of suffering. As you already know I am struggling with being in enclosed spaces, and I feel especially reluctant if there is a lot of glass. I also do not enjoy being close to humans I do not know, although, as you well know, I know everyone. This is limited to certain aspects of their person, though, and does not include mind reading. Therefore I find myself apprehensive of their goals and possible actions, which is why I prefer to keep my distance. I know that these fears are not logical and that I should be able to “shake them off” - yet I cannot, and I do not know for how long they will impede me. My greatest fear I have so far not articulated, though. If I tell you my name, will you still look at me the same way?

The words stop without a farewell and Hob drops the journal with a choked sob, his eyes wide and watering. He wants to howl. He refrains for the sake of his neighbours and simply slumps to the floor beside the fallen book. It’s still open and Hob rereads the last line through more and more tears welling up. He makes a sound like a wounded animal and gets back up on his knees, searches for a pen on top of the desk and then immediately launches into writing a reply right there on the floor.

My friend, my dearest friend!

Why would you think that I would ever look at you differently? You are more dear to me than anyone else and knowing your name and who or what you truly are will not change that! I believe I have been privileged to get to know you over the few times we met, and even more through these letters we have been writing. Even if your name was Oberon, or Hades, or hell, even Lucifer! I would not look at you differently, except to ask you why you lied when I first guessed that you might be a demon. I don’t think you would ever lie to me, though. Whatever you are, I have thought about it and puzzled over it since I first met you, so you know that the only way I would look at you if I finally got to know your name would be with awe and curiosity - the same way I have always looked at you. You are endlessly fascinating to me and I cannot believe you would think that I might change my opinion on you because of something as unimportant as a name. I already know you, dear stranger, with or without it. So I say, don’t tell me unless you truly want to. Don’t think you owe me a name or explanation. I do not need it. All I need is you, and our conversations. 

Hob pauses his writing and lets the pen drop from his fingers, drawing a shaky breath and rubbing his eyes. He wishes he had planned this better, thought about what he would write before starting, but in the end it’s maybe best to give his stranger this excessive honesty. Hob has a bad feeling about his friend’s entry simply stopping and what he probably needs is immediate assurance. So this is what Hob will lead with, and address the other issues afterwards. He means it, too. He doesn’t care who or what his friend truly is. He’s Hob’s friend, the oldest and best he’s got, and he’s determined to keep him, no matter what kind of being he turns out to be. “My sister, Death.” That's what his stranger wrote, Hob remembers and flips the pages of the journal back, rereading the first part of his friend’s entry. Roderick Burgess tried to summon Death, and got her brother instead. Death’s brother. His friend is Death's brother. What could that possibly make him? One of the four horsemen? Pestilence, or Famine? War seems unlikely, somehow. Actually none of these fit his stranger, Hob thinks and shakes his head slightly. He gets up and sits at the desk, the journal open in front of him. He doesn’t quite know what to write next and so he drops the pen and goes to wash his face and make himself tea, trying to collect his thoughts in the meantime.

When he returns to the bedroom he finds he cannot write more without mulling it all over first. He feels empty, the horror of his friend’s ordeal growing more and more clearer in his mind. He doesn’t know what to write besides “Please let me hold you. Please let me make you smile. Please let me love you.” None of that seems even nearly appropriate to tell to a traumatised person that is probably not even remotely attracted to him. What his stranger needs now is a friend (well, actually a therapist, but Hob will do his best), not a clingy lover like Hob.

He goes to bed and leaves the journal open on the desk. Maybe when he wakes up he’ll be able to find the right words. He falls asleep to thoughts of prisons made of glass, his friend stuck inside, looking mournfully at him.

Hob dreams of the White Horse. He wears his modern clothes but the Inn looks like it did in 1589 and with a smile he sits down at the lavishly decorated table, ready to host his friend. When Hob looks up his stranger is standing a few feet away on the other side of the table. He looks like Hob saw him in his bedroom, although his hair is a bit wilder and his black coat looks longer and is speckled with stars. Hob smiles at him and gestures at the spread.

“My friend! Sit, eat! You must be awfully hungry!”

His stranger frowns and takes a cautious step closer, looking at the table laden with food, then back at Hob.

“You offer me sustenance, my friend?”

I offer you everything.

“Of course,” Hob exclaims, “this, and more! If there is anything I can give you, I will! Please, only ask and I will try and find a way to get it for you.”

Hob wants to stop talking but he can’t seem to stop the words. “Be it food or drink, or hugs, or kisses - everything I have, my heart, if you but ask, is yours.” He blushes, knows that his eyes have grown wide in shock and still he cannot stop looking at his friend, staring at him in open adoration. Brother of Death, brother of Death, his mind keeps shrieking at him and Hob feels his smile crumble in dread as his stranger does not visibly react to Hob’s words at all. Too forward, too honest! Fool, you dare, he chides himself and bites his tongue when he feels more words on the cusp of breaking free.

His stranger does not acknowledge Hob’s words, he slowly picks up a strawberry and takes a delicate bite. His dark eyes do not leave Hob’s for even a second, though. Hob feels heat pool in his belly and bites his tongue harder until he feels blood well up inside his mouth. He opens it and a drop spills out, staining his lips as red as the strawberry is staining his friend’s. His stranger’s eyes are black from side to side now, gleaming in the low light like pearls. Hob blinks and suddenly the man is right in front of him, reaching out until his fingertip gently brushes the drop of blood from Hob’s lips, the next moment he is standing at the other end of the table again, a half-eaten strawberry staining his fingers. Hob feels lightheaded and grips the table to remain upright. What is going on? This is the strangest dream he’s ever had. The voice of his friend is suddenly coming from everywhere, reverberating inside Hob’s head.

“I accept your offering, dear Hob. I promise to cherish it…and treat it with utmost care.”

Hob wants to ask what his friend means but he feels very tired all of a sudden, despite knowing that he’s already asleep. He feels himself sink back into what feels like soft cushions and the room darkens around them until all he can see are two twin stars twinkling in his friend’s eyes. Then there is nothing but darkness, and sleep.

Part 6

[comicaurora]

i think pacing is THE literary tool that most directly proves that you write good when you've been writting a lot. pacing is a feel, you can and def should read stuff about pacing, but you simply can't develop the muscles for it without hitting the gym.

so uhh, when did you start feeling good about how you've handled pacing in previous works and current one? was there a moment? i feel stuck, and discipline tells me to keep on trucking but its demotivating. sorry for long question aaa

Conveniently it was during the process of making the comic, because I absolutely did not have it down before I started. I had a moment of clarity sometime around chapter 3 that all my artistic practice for the comic had done nothing to prepare me for the invisible substrate of visual storytelling: pacing. Splash panels and big dramatic establishing shots are much more common in those early chapters because I hadn't processed how to fully utilize the space on the page. I had to do some backend reworking of the general timeline as I realized that any amount of narrative backtracking would grind the story to a halt AND take me way too much time to make. I realized I had a lot of unconnected filler in my initial plan that kind of just kicked the plot into little zero-consequence cul-de-sacs that didn't move anything forward, so I began to prioritize story beats that advanced at least one of either the plot or a character arc - I didn't want to fall into the trap of making absolutely everything tie into one singular grand evil plan or not have any room for broader worldbuilding, so I allowed for some outside-context antagonists and threats as long as they let me reveal new things about the main characters. It gave me a feel for what constituted forward motion or broad expansion of the story.

Somewhere along the way - I think maybe around chapter 9? - I gave myself a rule of thumb that every page needed at least one new thing on it. That "thing" could be a piece of new information, a turn of events in the story, a reveal of something previously unseen, a character making a decision - it's not a hard definition by any means, but it helped me stay on track. It also helped balance the two completely disparate pacings I need to account for, namely how the story is paced when you read the archive through vs how the story is paced when you read it as it updates three times a week. "One thing per page" means the people reading it as it updates always get something new to chew on.

When I bit the bullet and started this story, I was as prepared as I could've been for someone who'd never made a longform comic before, but that meant I was completely lacking in experience with the unique and invisible elements of comic storytelling, of which pacing is the most foundational. It's ok if you don't think you're good at it yet; it's impossible to get good at it before you begin. Starting the story is the hardest part.

[ddarker-dreams]

Collapse of Paradise.

Yan Childe x M Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, gaslighting attempts from Mr Childe. Word count: 3k.

It started with the small things.

Synchronicities, perhaps, little blips on a piece of paper that appear seemingly unconnected. No lines could be drawn between them at first glance. Some of these coincidences weren’t necessarily bad; if anything, it was as if you’d hit an unprecedented stroke of luck. When you went to buy groceries at the market, the second you’d go to get your money out, the store clerk would start rambling about how ‘he needed these goods gone anyway’ and lowered the price significantly. In the days that followed, he’d stopped charging you altogether.

You’d found it odd, but he was insistent, countless stories prepared to explain away his altruism.

Then there were the lines. It didn’t matter if they were long or short, many of the people in front of you offered their spot. At first, you hesitantly accepted, but it started to make you feel wrong, so you started gently turning the offers down. After that, you noticed the typically crowded streets of Liyue seemed easier to traverse. Others would scramble to move aside for you, apologizing under their breath if you so much as bumped shoulders or anything of the like.

Eventually, you began to wonder if this stroke of luck might be a veneer for something more sinister.

Were the rumors spreading that you weren’t privy to? Slander and gossip? You couldn’t fathom why, you’ve always kept to yourself, never troubling anyone. For days now, you’ve mentally combed through your memories, searching for any act that could’ve been interpreted as offensive. These brainstorming sessions always end with more questions than answers. You just weren’t the type of person to form ripples in calm water. You favor tranquility, going to lengths to keep it.

You shut the book in your hands with a quiet sigh. Despite having opened it an hour ago, you were only halfway through the first chapter. The plot and characters failed to transport you to another world as you hoped. You slide your bookmark into place — a narwhal-shaped piece, courtesy of your lover — then opt for staring at the ceiling. If you couldn’t distract yourself, maybe you could zone out and turn your traitorous brain off for a bit.

Should you post an apology on a bulletin board, where there’s bound to be lots of foot traffic? You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, so it might not be the best idea. Maybe you could ask the next person to give you this unwanted special treatment? That doesn’t sound satisfactory either. It could make matters worse if they think you’ve remained blissfully aware of your offense all this time.

Having your home quietly turn hostile is a unique type of pain.

“Hey, what’s with all the sighing? Is the book that bad?”

Sunlight parting through storm clouds — that’s how you’d best describe Ajax. His warmth never failed to reach you. It sought you out, chasing after you for as long as necessary, maneuvering through obstacles like they were nothing. No matter where you hid, he always found you.

“I wish I could tell you. I haven’t made enough progress to determine that yet,” you give him a smile that must look as unconvincing as it feels. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you sooner. Have you been here for long?”

He juts his thumb toward your front door. “Just snuck in, actually. Not too stealthily either.”

You frown at the implication. Ajax had often playfully complained your front door was squeaky enough to alert the whole neighborhood of his presence whenever he opened it, a sentiment you agreed with. You must’ve really been out of it to not hear those decibel-breaking hinges.

The couch dips to accommodate his weight as he sits next to you. He props his feet up — his boots off, thankfully, you had to remind him countless times — and rests his arms behind his head. You both stay like that for a moment. Your eyes are on his side profile as he thinks, about you, no doubt, the grin you’re so used to seeing on his face uncharacteristically absent. You shift in your seat at the prolonged silence.

He just got back from a long day at work, you’d rather not bother him with your paranoia. For someone who acts so lackadaisical, he’s freakishly perceptive, picking up on your every nuance. He pointed out tics about yourself that even you were unaware of. It didn’t feel fair for him to have to keep guessing what’s been bothering you while you struggled to make up an excuse different from the last time he asked.

Ajax inspects you from the corner of his eye. “Feel up to going out to eat? It’s been a while. As much as I love cooking dinner with you, sometimes it’s nice to take the night off. How about it?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. He isn’t bringing it up out of consideration for you, you know it, he knows it. And still, it seeps into every aspect of your life. You’ve been avoiding going out. You aren’t a total recluse, there’s still work to be done, but you’ve been staying at home more often than not. At first, you told yourself it was unrelated to the strange predicament you found yourself in. You’d only recently come to terms with the fact that was a lie, meant to lull you into thinking things aren’t that bad.

“If you’re tired, you can relax while I whip something up,” you propose, sounding as cheerful as you can manage. His eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Oh, there are some leftovers from my lunch too. We can just warm that up and—”

“[First].”

You’re looking everywhere but his eyes. “Yes?”

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong,” his hand is on your forearm, serving as the anchoring force you so desperately need. His tone isn’t judgmental or irritated by how elusive you’ve been acting. It’s overflowing with patience so sickeningly sweet, that a lump forms in your throat. “You know you can tell me anything.”

The sensation of guilt that washes over you then is unwelcome. You wish you could both keep playing along, but all dreams are destined to end. This conversation and the doors it’d open were bound to happen.

He gives you a squeeze before you part your lips, having sensed your change of heart from the subtlest shift in demeanor.

“I’m not exactly sure how to explain it… I just get the sense people are treating me differently lately. Not in an overtly bad way, but more like they need to be careful around me. I don’t know. It’s weird.”

Another squeeze, this time to your hands, which he takes in his. “When did you start noticing this?”

It’s a question you don’t like the answer to. They’re unrelated blips, you remind yourself. This world you live in is filled with plenty of those. Correlation doesn’t equal causation and all that. Ajax’s gaze never falters from yours. He’s wholly concentrated on you as if nothing else could possibly matter more. This display of unflinching devotion brings forth a fresh sting of guilt. It tingles all over, pricking against your skin.

For a lie, your next words come out surprisingly easy.

“A week or so ago, maybe.”

Ajax is unabashedly inspecting your facial features. He studies every little counter, each dip and groove. The way he examines you now is different from his usual, loving stare. It feels colder, more critical, almost like he’s been charged with determining whether or not you committed a crime. You do what you can to keep yourself from squirming.

You have an easier time breathing when he pulls back, apparently satisfied with the outcome of his search.

“I can’t imagine why that’s happening, but these things naturally tend to resolve themselves with time. Maybe someone overheard something out of context or got overly chatty while drinking. The people of Liyue are reasonable. Keep being you. They’ll see through any of the mistruths they came across.”

His lips curl into the lopsided grin you’re so used to seeing. A part of you is relieved by how he’s handled your admission, though you can’t fathom why. He’s a good man. It doesn’t matter how many hours he’s worked, he’ll stay up late into the night to write replies to his siblings, insisting he wants them to receive their presents as soon as possible. He cares for you, dotes on you, going above and beyond without needing to be asked.

You don’t want to think about the small things if you can avoid it. You want to think about the upcoming trip to Snezhnaya he’s planned, insisting his family wants to meet their future brother-in-law. How he took time away from his busy job to nurse you back to health the last time you fell ill. The almost magical way he can distract you from your problems, whether it be through witty banter or exciting adventures into nature.

He brings your head to rest on his shoulder. You accept the gesture, knowing how he favors being physical with you. Letting him have this seems like a good idea.

Your eyelids flutter shut and you’re back to where you started — struggling to quiet the desperate whispers of your mind. The voices grow more hoarse from how loud they must strain to try and be heard.

Trust is built on open communication, you know this, yet you’re holding back one piece of critical knowledge from him.

That you know all these peculiar interactions began around the time Ajax started courting you.

-

You’ve watched people convince themselves of things in the past.

It was a sight that brought out a myriad of emotions, namely confusion and pity. Should you let them carry on in their misguided ways? Hope that maybe they snap out of the reverie of their own volition, or someone better equipped might happen by and lend a helping hand? You’d witnessed it in grief-stricken mothers who lost their sons at sea, refusing to attend the funeral while claiming ‘he’s still out there’. Then there were the failed entrepreneurs who put everything into a business for it to just go bust. They’d swear that their investment will pay off eventually, that economies change, it isn’t a total lost cause; the justifications never ended.

It’s strange, going from being an audience member to these predicaments to landing the lead role for yourself.

You see the script, know that the words were written in advance, yet still try clumsily acting through them all the same. What else is there for you to do? Ajax has never harmed you, never given reason for you to openly doubt him. These suspicions were spun by you. His job at the Northland Bank was never a secret, neither was the financial prosperity it brought him. Their collaboration with the Fatui is similarly public knowledge, though the degree of which is unknown.

Picking up a rock, you test its weight in your hand, then give it a calculated toss. It skips across the clear, shimmering water, then plunges into the depths.

“This would certainly make for a nice fishing spot,” a voice casually quips from behind. Your shoulders go stiff. It didn’t take long for him to find you, it never does. “What do you think? Should we make a date out of it?”

You feel the point of his chin press against your neck. “I, uh, might not be the best fishing partner. It requires waking up early and sitting still for hours, doesn’t it? That sounds difficult.”

“Patience is always a good thing to hone, it’s practical. I’ve found mine being tested lately,” he taps you on the side. Once, twice. “That’s the thing, though! It’s important to get pushed to your limits. You’ll never know what you might be capable of otherwise. Wouldn’t you say so, [First]?”

There’s an attempt to turn around and face him, yet what your body wills doesn’t come to fruition. Ajax’s body might appear lean, but it’s strong, almost inhumanly so. It requires no strain on his behalf to keep you rooted in place. You have nowhere to look aside from ahead. The sun is setting now, molten gold easing into shades of amber. You squint, finding the scene both beautiful and difficult to stare at directly.

Sunlight could be as painful as it is beautiful.

“We aren’t right for one another,” you mumble, almost grateful you can’t see his face. “I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t know what to do.”

He laughs, the sound ringing hollow. His warm breath tickles your ear. “You don’t have to do anything. Neither do I, for that matter. Everything was fine. Everything is fine. What have I done to you to earn this cold behavior, hm? Would you care to tell me?”

Your palms might bleed from how harshly your nails dig into them. “… You haven’t done anything to me.”

“And I wouldn’t, either,” he seems to take pride in confirming. The fact he has to say this in the first place is reason enough to worry.

Waves brush against and retreat from the sandy shoreline. The breeze carries with it hints of the ocean, tousling your hair, ensuring it’ll maintain the scent of saltwater for hours to come. This place that would set your heart at ease any other time fails to comfort you now. Each breath you take grows increasingly unsteady. A damning word that’s been floating around in the recesses of your mind grows louder and louder, demanding your attention. No longer do you have the energy to hush it.

“Ajax,” you begin, fighting through the impulse to say nothing, for your mouth is terribly dry, “Are you familiar with the alias ‘Childe’?”

A spray of water droplets kisses your cheek after a particularly sizable wave comes crashing down against the shore.

His hands are on your shoulders. Your sense of equilibrium is thrown off by how sharply he turns you around, forcing you to confront a reality you can no longer ignore. The rays of the dying sun are bright, yet his eyes do not reflect them. You’ve never seen those pools of bright blue turn so dull. His lips are set in a straight line, his face mere inches from yours. What you would’ve once considered an intimate moment feels like a perverse invasion of privacy. He’s giving you no space, no time, no air.

You have to remind yourself to breathe, the action no longer involuntary.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” his fingers are on your chin. You wonder how much blood has been shed due to the very hand cradling you. “I keep that portion of myself separate from those I care about.”

He isn’t denying it.

“That isn’t something— something you can just clock out of. People are scared of you. Because they’re scared of you, they’re scared of me.”

He sighs then, the closest thing you’ve gotten to resignation from him so far. “I know, I know. I really did want to avoid that. It isn’t anything I can’t fix. Still, you need to work with me on this.”

“I… what?”

You don’t want to believe you heard him right. You try to take a step back, but he doesn’t allow it, his grip unrelenting. The skin beneath his eyes crinkles when he smiles.

“You were happy,” Ajax states. When you voice no dissent, he continues on. “You must’ve been, if you were willing to overlook your suspicions for as long as you did. Maybe you should be scared of me… maybe you will be, if you keep looking into things you shouldn’t. Or you could make this easy for yourself. We can take things slow, work it out a day at a time.”

Toward the latter half of his proposal, he finally lets you go, yet you don’t make any move to run. It’s as if the sand beneath your feet has been replaced with iron shackles.

You need a moment to compose yourself for your next words to come out. It’ll be the most confrontational you’ve been yet. That thought alone is almost as frightening as the situation itself.

“What makes you think I want to work this out?”

His toothy grin never falters at your challenge, instead, it grows wider. You shiver at the possibility your unusual resistance excites him.

“Do you have what it takes to go the other route?” His voice takes on a condescending lilt. When he sees how you bristle, he laughs, shaking his head and putting his hands up in mock defense. “C’mon, I’m joking. Don’t look at me like that. You’re a smart man, I know you’ll make the right choice.”

You’re not sure what other options you have.

Ajax bends over to grab some stones of his own, just as you did before his unwelcome arrival. He winds his shoulder a few times, then gives it a toss, the rock skipping too many times for you to count. It goes out impossibly far before finally succumbing to its watery prison. He tries to hand you one. You stare at it unblinkingly.

“Something tells me this might be our last romantic outing for a while. Might as well make the most of it,” he nudges it closer.

With some reluctance, you take the rock into your hand. He’s back to throwing the few he collected, beaming while he does so. You thought you were growing adept at playing pretend — that pales in comparison to his abilities. Pleading his case is no longer of any interest to him. He knows what you’re going to choose, he could always read you, and he’s only going to get better at it.

“Nothing about this is romantic,” you finally murmur. This rock fails to glide over the water, plummeting immediately. “That’s a word I’ll struggle to associate with you... Childe.”

He winks and replaces the rock you just threw, his fingers brushing over yours.

“Well, it's a good thing I just love challenges then.”

[hp-soulmates]

💞 HP Soulmates: R3D String Edition - August Weeks 1 & 2 Roundup 💞

Sorry for the delay! Here’s the Roundup for Weeks 1 & 2. We will be trying to post a Roundup every two weeks, so there will be another one coming this weekend. Please enjoy the first set of some amazing fics!

~ HP Soulmates Mods 💞

💞 [Fic] Invisible String (Tying You to Me) by MidnightStargazer | @midnightstargazer 💞 (T, Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil, 2.3k)

Week 1: Red string | lightning era | fate

In the aftermath of her breakup with Ron, Lavender uses a divination ritual to reveal the red strings of fate and find her soulmate, desperate for a partner who can be trusted not to break her heart.

💞 [Fic] Clear The Clouds (& Your Doubt) by SquibNation10 💞 (T, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, 3.7k)

Week 1: Red string | lightning era | fate

Ron was proud of his girlfriend. Hermione Granger was among the top researchers in the Department of Mysteries. But then he finds out what she's researching...

💞 [Fic] Ink Stained Heart by GimletSour | @gimletsour 💞 (M, Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter, 5.4k)

Harry’s got a one-way portkey to California and a date with a pretty girl lined up. Who knew finding your soulmate, even fourteen years late, could work out so well? ~ This is a direct sequel to Ink Stained Skin, and will feature Harry’s POV. I highly encourage you to read that one first!

💞 [Fic] Tied To Me With Crimson Knots by DrWhoIsGinnyHolmes | @drwhoisginnyholmes 💞 (M, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 2.4k)

Week 1: Red string | lightning era | fate

Harry’s fingertip laid bare, an unconnected hand, a silent thing, no red string in sight. Draco’s was bound, to a Muggle, once bright. But darkness came, and shadows spread. Voldemort’s hand left the Muggle boy dead. In that moment, fate took a twist, A red string formed on Harry’s wrist. From enemy to friend, perhaps to lover, Their destinies entwined, one to discover. Poem written by p0intless_p0et

💞 [Fic] Expelliarmus Red by Poljupci | @poljupci 💞 (T, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, 1.3k)

Week 1: Red string | lightning era | fate + Wildcard: Cross gen ship

Harry could have figured it out sooner if he dared to pay more attention. Maybe things could have ended differently, then. But like this, when the realisation comes while looking into Voldemort's eyes and waiting to be killed, the only thing he can do is accept that they've doomed themselves from the beginning.

💞 [Fic] Catch The Snitch (& Win Me Too) by SquibNation10 💞 (T, Cho Chang/Ginny Weasley, 3.5k)

Week 2: Rival Soulmates | rare pair | second chances

Ginny Weasley wished the world would stop bringing up her past. She just wanted to play for her favourite Quidditch Team. Cho Chang feels the same.

💞 [Fic] midnight train by prima_vera | @girl-with-goats 💞 (M, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, 6.5k)

Prompts: Fate | red string | second chances | soulmarks

Onboarding the midnight train in search of his client's soulmate, Harry Potter doesn't expect to find his own childhood friend—and soulmate.

💞 [Fic] The Thousand Acres Between Us by MarinaJune | @sailtomarina 💞 (M, Marcus Flint/Hermione Granger, 8.3k)

Week 1: Red string | lightning era | fate

Reunited after years apart following the war, Hermione can immediately see there’s something different about Marcus Flint. The boy she thought she knew came back a man, one she’s more than willing to reconsider. He’s older, obviously, broader, mysterious as always, and, most baffling of all, interested in her?

💞 [Fic] Seeker Practice by Poljupci | @poljupci 💞 (E, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 1k)

Prompts: Rival soulmates | soulmarks & tattoos | snitch

Harry Potter is a good Seeker. The fact that catching their snitch of a soulmark gets both of them all hot and bothered is just some extra incentive.

[elejah-wonderland]

*

Dear Diary,

I almost got married once.

Elijah Smith held my heart.

But he was, a pianist, with no family, no background. No past, no future.

And a vampire.

And I was persuaded to give him up.' Elena wrote.

Flashback

Seven years earlier

New York

"You can not marry him - Elijah is a vampire and you are a witch. And even if the Coven allows it, he is a nobody. Quite unconnected. Oh, so very below your station. You are a Gilbert. Your family line goes back to the beginning of time." Lady Rose Salvatore said to Elena. "Also, you are leaving to the Academy in two days. Florence is waiting for you. The Salvatore Foundation paid for it. It would be very disrespectful to the Foundation if you gave it up."

Elena breathed in deep, and put her book she held in her hand aside and looked outside the window into the night. She knew that this love was impossible.

As she walked to meet him  in the park, an hour later, her heart clenched with pain.

"Elena" Elijah said as he came up to her from the shadows.

"Elijah" Elena gulped, inhaling inwardly, feeling her stomach flip.

Elijah's pleasent and yet nervous posture made her heart clump. And then, there it was. The moment. Her words like dagger, cold, sharp hit him.

"I cannot marry you. I'm sorry"

"Are you ready? The wedding is in half an hour. The carriage is here" Bonnie Bennett said to her dear friend, breaking her thoughts.

"I'm ready" Elena closed her diary and took her hat that was sitting on the  chair.

"I'm happy you accepted Andrea's wedding invitation." Bonnie said as they got  in the carriage.

"I've always wanted to visit France. This was a wonderful excuse." Elena said adjusting her glove.

"You must stay at least a fortnight. Kol and I have plans to go to Cassis. It's a charming small fishing town. We'd love for you to come along with us." Bonnie said.

"I'd love to come. Thank you." Elena smiled appreciatively.

It was good to be with friends again. Seven long years had passed since she has last seen them. She had only exchanged letters with them. And so many things had happened since she had left her home town of Mystic Falls. She had finished her studies, becoming a doctor, opening a small practice with Stefan Salvatore in Florence, Italy.

She had dedicated herself and all her spare time to her patients, and Charity work.

Many have thought that she and Dr Salvatote would form an attachment and marry. But her heart was destroyed. It was of course self-inflicted as she couldn't forgive herself for having so cruely shut Elijah down by refusing him. The sadness in his eyes haunted her to this very day. And it would go for as long as she could hold her breath.

Watching, one of her friends, Andrea Lebonair exchange vows with her beloved Jackson, made her heart flutter achingly for the love lost.

Flashback

Two years ago

Florence, Italy

"I'm in love" Bonnie declared as she sat down on the bench at the Uffizzi  Gallery next to Elena."I think he'll propose."

"What?Who?" Elena looked at her friend astonished. She had no idea her friend had a suitor.

"I'll tell you everything, but not here. Let's go for a walk." Bonnie urged her friend to get up.

"All right." Elena said and followed her friend out of the Gallery.

"His name is Kol. We met in Amsterdam. He is a witch-vampire." Bonnie said un a hush voice.

"Oh my God - how can that be? I mean -a witch and a vampire?"

"He is a hybrid. An abomination, I know. His family is from Norway. His father is the Earl of Rosendal. But that's the least important thing, as they lost the seat, the land and the title. They were persecuted as they were found out that they were hybrids. His father and mother were killed and him and his siblings were scattered around the world. His middle brother has a house in Aix-en-Provence. Klaus Mikaelson."

"Mikaelson," Elena said, remembering seeing the name in her great-uncles diary, "Nobles. Wiccans?"

"Yes. Well, their mother was an Original witch." Bonnie said. "They've been through Hell these past decade. They had to hide. One of their brother had his memory erased. Kol is working on it to restore it."

Elena had heard a little after that, as she had met Kol that the brother who had his memory erased was Elijah - her Elijah.

_to be continued

[naavispider]

BESITE BESITEBFZJFHDBFICHZ

ONGOSBDEIF

OMG I HAVE A GIGABRAIN IDEA, THE MOST AMAZING PROMPT IM SURE YOU’LL FIND IT INTERESTING

A SEA STORM

AND SPIDER GETS THROWN OFF BOARD BY A WAVE

AND IF WHEN QUARITCH SAVES HIM HE SEES SPIDER HAS NO MASK SO HE TRIES TO GET HIM BACK ABOARD AS FAST AS POSSIBLE WHILE HIS BBY HYPERVENTILATES TRYING TO BREATHE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

This ask has been in my inbox for AGES (I'm so sorry) but every time I look at it I DIE thinking about it. Not Spider being thrown off the ship by a wave 😭😭 Here's a little crack drabble 😭

Spider grabbed for the nearest railing as the ship bowed again, dropping steeply as it descended the crest of another tremendous wave, sending Spider's stomach flying up through his throat. His feet left the deck and he clung to the wet railing as tightly as he could. He needed to get inside, now. 

“Spider!” He thought he could hear distant shouts calling his name, but they were lost to the wind and sea spray that assaulted his face, obscuring his mask. Then, the ship slammed back down onto the surface of the churning ocean, sending Spider hard to the floor. The force of it was so great that he momentarily lost his grip on the slippery railing, and with a jolt of panic found himself sliding along the deck in the direction of the stern of the ship. He was going to be washed away. He scrabbled desperately to find something - anything - to cling on to, but the metal deck was perfectly smooth, and he couldn’t control the direction he was sliding in. 

He felt the burn of the friction on his exposed skin, but it was overpowered by the dreadful realization that another wave was looming behind the ship - and he was headed straight for it. Thunder cracked and lightning illuminated the silhouette of the 70 foot wave. Spider stared at it for a moment that contained an eternity. 

This was it. 

It was going to crash down on them, and he would be lost to the sea. He didn’t have time to say a prayer to Eywa, because he hit the railing at the stern with an almighty crash, unable to brace himself in time. Pain bloomed in his side - it felt like he’d cracked at least a hundred bones with the impact. He reached his hands to grip on, and braced himself for the seconds before the wave crashed down. He didn’t look up to see his fate, but the darkening of the light around him told him that the wave was upon them… it was right above them… any minute now…

He took the deepest breath he was capable of, and braced. 

Water slammed into him from above with the force of a thousand direhorses. His skin burned and his body crumpled under the weight of the onslaught. He had no choice but to let go of the railings, knowing his fate was sealed. Water was all around him. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t even feel anything. He was lost, tumbling and swirling in a freezing void of grey. Panicked seconds passed, and still he was submerged. The deck was gone from below him. Something was wrong, he should have come up for air by now. He didn’t know where he was, his lungs had frozen up from the icy water and nothing made sense. 

He kicked out against the water, not caring about anything other than finding the surface. His hands reached upwards - or what he assumed was upwards - to try and claw himself towards air, and it was at that point that his fingers brushed past the tubing of his mask. It was floating next to his neck, unconnected to anything. He’d been holding his breath instinctively, but more panic surged through him as he realised the mask was compromised… the exopack had been ripped away by the storm surge. 

He kicked violently towards where the water seemed lighter - surely that was the surface. He continued to be battered and thrown constantly, but he never gave up. He had to make it. 

Just when he was sure his lungs couldn't hold out any longer, his fingers found air, and his head quickly followed. He breached the surface with a gasp of grateful air - completely forgetting that the Pandoran atmosphere was no longer filtered for him. 

Immediately, his head began to swim and dizziness clouded over his brain like a fog. He gasped for breath again - the only thing he could possibly do. 

As he knew it would, the dizziness doubled in ferocity and the backs of his eyes burned. This was it. This was how he went. He closed his eyes against the pain, and his final thoughts were a plea to Eywa for acceptance. 

*****

“Shit, Colonel, he’s overboard!” came a shout from Wainfleet, struggling to be heard over the roar of the storm. 

The recoms were clinging to the rail on the starboard side of the top deck, but when a wave had swept Spider away towards the stern, they’d screamed after him. 

Quaritch wasn’t waiting to be told. He had been fighting his way towards Spider since the first waves had crashed on the ship, but the kid was so small and fragile and… human. He simply couldn’t hold onto anything against the force of the water. 

“Spider!” Quaritch screamed for the hundredth time in the past half an hour. Where was he? He’d gone.. disappeared over the side. Quaritch couldn’t see him. He ran as best as he could towards the stern, but the swaying of the boat made him slow. Waves crashed against him, but he made it. His eyes scanned the churning ocean, but it was a nightmare. The water was grey, frothing, and choppier than Quaritch had ever seen on Earth, even including the gigantic sea storms as the planet cried out to be saved. It was apocalyptic. 

It was hopeless.

Wainfleet staggered up behind him, and a second later he was followed by Z-dog and Mansk, all of them desperately scanning the waves for signs of Spider. 

“There!” Z-dog shouted, pointing to a spot a hundred feet away. 

Quaritch searched the waves desperately, finally catching sight of a tiny head bobbing at the surface, a ragdoll in the waves. 

Without thinking, Quaritch leapt head first into the waves. He hit the water hard - he knew that if he were still human, he never would have survived it. It was stupid. It was necessary. It was the only thing he could do. 

Relishing in his Na’vi strength and stamina, he furiously swam towards the spot he’d last seen Spider. Waves towered over him now, and it was difficult to keep sight of the boy. When the next wave lowered, he found him again. Spider was floating twenty feet away, and Quaritch finally reached him, breathless and lungs burning. 

Shit. 

Spider’s exopack was missing. Quaritch turned the unconscious boy over in his arms, searching for the equipment as if it would just be floating nearby. Heart pounding, he found the disconnected tubing that connected Spider’s mask to the bare Pandoran atmosphere. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, turning back to the ship and dragging the boy with him. Wainfleet was at the deck, still clinging on, and he threw a buoy over the side that Quaritch made a beeline for. It was difficult enough keeping his own head above water, let alone the unconscious Spider’s. He didn’t have time to worry about it though. The kid had been without oxygen for too long, too many precious minutes. He finally reached the buoy, and the next thing he heard was the sound of chopping cutting through the air from a Sampson gunship above them. He gasped for breath, looking up at the dark sky and praying that the monstrous waves would relent for just another minute. 

“Come on, Spider, hold on!” he shouted at his son’s empty face. He ripped the boy’s mask off, since he noticed with a jolt that it had started to fill with water. “Shit!” Mansk and Z-dog appeared on hoists from the floating Sampson above their heads. “Give him here,” Z-dog shouted as she pulled Spider from the Colonel’s arms, signalling to the pilot of the aircraft to hoist them up. Spray splattered the group as Quaritch grabbed onto Mansk to be pulled up himself. 

“His mask disconnected!” he shouted. “Radio the med bay now!”

Mansk did so and they were lifted into the Sampson. As soon as Quaritch unclipped himself, he staggered straight over to Spider, fitting him with a fresh mask before checking for a pulse. It was there, faintly, but the kid wasn’t breathing. “Fuck!” he shouted. What did he do now?

*******

Spider woke up in a brightly lit room. The first thing he became aware of was his pounding headache, his burning throat, and pain all over the right side of his chest. 

He tried to make a sound, but all that came out was a dry rasp. Then he tried to sit up, but that was no good either. He cried out when his ribs protested harshly.

He looked around, trying to assess where he was and what had happened. He was on the Sea Dragon - he recognised the decor. But this was a different part of the ship. It was white, sterile, and filled with medical equipment. So, the med bay.

At that point, the doors to the left opened noisily and in strolled Quaritch, looking frantic and haggard, as if he hadn’t slept in days. Deep lines littered his forehead, and there were purple shadows under his eyes. Spider tried to croak a snide comment, but found his head hurt too much to even think of forming words. 

“Spider!” The recom’s face came back to life when he realised he was awake. His eyes widened in a mixture of relief and concern, and he crossed the room quickly to kneel next to Spider’s bed. 

“Jesus kid, you had us worried there!” He placed an uncertain hand on Spider’s arm.

Spider looked at him through bleary eyes, valiantly trying to form a sentence in his mind before exerting the effort of speech. “Wh-” he cleared his throat painfully. “What happened?” 

Quaritch huffed in fake amusement. “Well, you’re a little survivor is what happened. The storm threw you overboard and you lost your exopack. I jumped in to get you, and we managed to pull you out.”

Spider frowned slowly. “Y-you… jumped in?”

“Yeah. Don’t let it go to your head though… I’m a natural swimmer and I’d have done it for any unlucky bastard that fell in.” Spider stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or not. He couldn’t tell if Quaritch was being serious. He couldn’t tell much of anything right now. 

“You’re still pretty out of it, huh?” Quaritch asked. “You should get some rest… I’ll leave you alone to sleep.”

“No!” Spider surprised himself with the sudden steadiness of his voice. “You- you don’t have to…” he muttered, embarrassed at the way he was coming across. 

Quaritch considered him for a moment, before grinning slyly, and settling back into the chair. 

Spider let himself relax back into the sheets, and as soon as he had closed his eyes again he was passed out, safe in the knowledge that Quaritch would look out for him.

[crepe-of-wrath]

Shouta Scarf-ish Saturday

notes/warnings: no smut; this is sort of a Courtly Love-ish/neo-medieval Romantic AU setting; not meant to be historically accurate in any way; Author liked Sleeping Beauty as a child and apologizes in advance; Reader is the Young Queen and Aizawa is the Old King's Young Knight; this will be at least a couple of parts Very loosely inspired by THIS ART from My Hero: Ultra Impact

The sun's light and warmth woke you up, but not in the way you were used to. Instead of being mediated through glass panes and curtains, the light was immediate and unfiltered, and the warmth had a sort of intensity that was rather delicious against your collarbone and calves.

You were outside. Animals and insects chirped and buzzed. The wind whistled through branches that were dotted with the buds of early spring. There was the faintest smell of flowers, though you couldn't tell what kind.

You were in a hammock made of some dingy grey webbing in what appeared to be an ancient, forgotten bower. You smiled fondly. How kind of your husband to see to you like this. What sort of surprise outing had he planned? Even though he was so much older than you, he took such good care of you, just like your own father had. You wondered where he was...

You gently sat up, laughing at how the hammock shook. The smile and laughter died on your lips when you saw the man who was sitting under the tree. It was Sir Shouta, a man who made you feel very different things than what you felt for your kindly, kingly husband. The two of you locked eyes for a moment before you looked away.

Your eyes darted back to the hammock and you shook your head, as though that would clear your head and help your grasp your situation. Your brain started to fit the pieces together. The hammock--it was *the scarf* that was usually looped around his neck.

You looked back up and Sir Shouta now had his eyes cast down.

"Please," he said to you in his deep voice. "At your feet, my lady. Please."

You realized one of your simple robes was crumpled at the foot of the hammock. As your body struggled to put it on as quickly as possible, your mind struggled to try and remember how you had gotten here. To your horror, all you could remember were unconnected scenes and sounds: swords clashing, screams of panic, your husband weighed down by his armor, but still issuing battle cries.

Your breathing got shakier.

With tremulous voice, you tried to be polite and courtly, as you asked, "Sir Shouta, g-good morning. What's happened?"

"May I approach, Your Highness?"

"Of course." You tightened your robe around you.

He knelt--he was so tall, after all--next to your hammock. You wondered how he wasn't sweating under all his black leather. His face was calm, unmarred save for the crescent scar under his eye, but his eyes betrayed his worry.

"As a precaution, Your Highness, the King instructed me to take you into the woods to keep you safe while he and my companions deal with the traitors who attacked the castle."

He stopped and swallowed as though he feared your reaction to what was to come.

"You were given a sleeping draught, which is why you may not remember everything. Please forgive me, Your Highness, in the heat of the battle it did not occur to any of us that doing so would leave you unable to dress yourself for bed. I-I am sorry, Your Highness. I swear to you on my honor as a knight, I took no liberties."

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and not because of the sun, and your lips almost curved upward before you schooled them into neutrality. Sir Shouta had stripped you down to your chemise! You could not stop your eyes from looking at his big, strong hands. More than once, you had watched how those hands grasped the sword at his waist, treating the hilt with both firm command and great sensitivity, and it made you feel lightheaded to think that he might have grasped you in the same way too. Had he cradled you against his chest as he tended you? Had his dark hair grazed your skin? Why were you cursed not to remember?

You focused on his face again and realized he was still waiting for you to respond, waiting for you to confirm you weren't angry with him. Gently, you touched one of his vambraces and said, "We do what necessity dictates, Sir Shouta."

"You are gracious, Your Highness," he replied. You thought you saw the faintest bit of color in his cheeks, but then it was gone and you realized your mind was playing tricks on you.

"I will be back very soon," said Shouta. "I must get you something to eat and drink."

[sule-skerry]

I did some thinking recently about both what I want in my life and what I want from my Internet usage, initially spurred by unconnected things, and came to the conclusion that Internet usage is good for me, but I really want to be more thoughtful about how I do it and what I get from it.

Specifically, in the last ~3 years I've really let my socially avoidant and anxious tendencies get the better of me and ended up in a vicious cycle of desperately wanting connection, running away and hiding once I got it, nuking what friendships I was making, and starting all over again. I also got really used to just... talking and then not responding to people. A few years ago I had a mindfuck of a year that we will not go into detail about here that left me both really socially disconnected/dysfunctional and had some serious personal consequences that made the above worse. If you have been on the receiving end of any of this, I'm sorry.

The type of social media I enjoy, longer form text, pseudonymous posting, the easy ability to organize around interests, stable blog pages instead of endless scroll in an app, is going away. I want to enjoy it while I still can.

To both these ends, I am possibly getting more active in a personal way on here and also did a massive winnowing-down of my dash (I didn't break any mutuals unless it had been years since they posted). I want to make Tumblr feel a little more like it did in the early days and a little less impersonal. I'm going through my recent followers next, so if you've followed me in the last 1-2 years and want to get to know each other, come into my ask box and say hey!

[tremendouskoalachild]

Speculating on the contents of The High Republic Adventures Annual 2025

(because i love the high republic, procrastination, and completely inconsequential speculation)

The High Republic Adventures annual for phase 3 was recently announced as part of upcoming Crash Zone TPB out in April 2025.

THRA had an annual issue in phase 1 (2021) and none for phase 2. THRA annual 2021 was an anthology of 5 stories by the 5 original story architects of the high republic, each by a different penciller, with storylines largely unconnected to The High Republic Adventures 2021 comic:

Charles Soule: Set For Life, a story about Bell and Loden;

Claudia Gray: No Stone Unturned, a story about the Vessel crew;

Justina Ireland: First Mission, a Vernestra prequel;

Daniel José Older: Crash and the Crew Do What They Do, a Crash story setting up Midnight Horizon and other stories involving Crash's team;

Cavan Scott: The Haul, a Lourna story.

that's 1 story for every person writing high republic media at the time, each featuring what could be considered their pet character(s), plus some crossovers (Porter in Cavan's story, Stellan in Justina's, etc.). two stories tell the peace-time backstory of phase 1 characters, the others take place during the events of phase 1.

in 2023 we got Tales of Light and Life, an YA short story anthology by the high republic authors at the time, bridging all 3 phases and giving us the first phase 3 stories. they were:

Zoraida Córdova: The Queen's Bloom (phase 2, Axel prequel)

Tessa Gratton: A Closed Fist Has No Claws (phase 2, Marda epilogue)

George Mann: Shield of the Jedi (phase 2, Silandra and Rooper epilogue)

Daniel José Older: The Lonely Traveler is Home (phase 1, Ram and Zeen with cameos from most other teen Jedi)

Claudia Gray: After the Fall (epilogue to phase 1, Vessel crew)

Justina Ireland: The Force Provides (bridging phases 1 and 3, Vernestra story setting up her Defy the Storm storyline)

Charles Soule: All Jedi Walk Their Own Path (Bell story bridging his stories in phases 1 and 3, plus pre-phase 1 flashbacks)

Cavan Scott: Light in the Darkness (phase 3, Keeve story setting up the 2023 adult comic run)

Lydia Kang: The Call of Coruscant (epilogue to phase 1, new character Amadeo Azzazzo, setting up Tears of the Nameless)

Alyssa Wong: Rogue Element (phase 3, Crash story setting up her one-shot comics; only in the Barnes and Noble exclusive edition)

the authors announced for THRA annual 2025 are:

Daniel José Older

Justina Ireland

Charles Soule

Rosemary Soule

Alyssa Wong

Zoraida Córdova

Cavan Scott

i assume there will be either 5 or 6 stories (leaning 5, because they'd have to make them pretty short to squeeze 6 into one issue). the Soules are obviously writing together. the issue is part of phase 3, and i expect all the stories to be set during it or potentially give backstory to characters introduced in phase 3.

the inclusion of the issue in Crash Zone implies a(t least one) Crash-focused story. DJO is the author of the collection's other two Crash issues but Alyssa Wong has written Rogue Element about Crash, a character based on them, and co-written another high republic work with DJO (Escape from Valo). maybe they're cooperating on this one too?

Rosemary Soule cooperated with her dad on Jedi Brave in Every Way, a children's book featuring Burry, Yoda, and the younglings Bree, Jon and Toko. these three have shown up in phase 3 comics as cameos (Shadows of Starlight issues 1 and 3, and Echoes of Fear issue 1). i think there's quite a chance the Soules' story brings them back in bigger roles, and i wouldn't be surprised to see Bell, Ember and Burry together in a low-stakes story.

i'm sorry if i have a limited mental image of Justina Ireland but i do feel fairly confident that her story is about Vernestra again... it's her brand after all, and she clearly enjoys writing Vern across the years. dark horse prediction: something about Avon, maybe connecting more to the Sana Starros comic.

Zoraida Córdova has written one phase 3 story (Beware the Nameless), and her high republic writing is connected by the Greylark family. i predict more Zenny Greylark, quite possibly with Churo the Hutt, set after BtN. i wouldn't be surprised to see a more explicit connection to Axel Greylark and the phase 2 storyline.

Zoraida, Alyssa, and Daniel have also all written the phase 3 Valo youngling gang including Tep Tep, Kildo, and their single teen dad Ram. are they going to do anything with them in this collection? i don't really expect it but it'd be cool. those kiddos have great designs.

i have no idea what to expect from Cavan, man. definitely a connection to the adult comics. quite possibly more about Keeve, whose story in phase 3 has covered the smallest amount of time of the main characters - then again, she is going to be in both Dispatches from the Occlusion Zone and Fear of the Jedi. maybe we're getting more Lourna instead, perhaps connecting to Tempest Breaker.