#still need to make a comp of some of those moments. so good

[cillpiines]

Day 1 - ZSMA / Free space

I fear the very particular kind of strangeness Zed carried in ZSMA is lost to time and the PG nature of Hermitcraft, but we can always look back to remember canonical alcoholic Zedaph and his attraction to villagers

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 10/12

Anonymous asked: Scratch: Won't anyone think of the children!! If you're gonna be smooching then get a room!!! also Scratch: Time to go manipulate more children into destroying their relationships! @manorinthewoods asked: There are two events in which Scratch has, so far, gained emotions: one, when he discovered that the Serkets stole an incredibly important magical item and hid it for centuries or millenia; and two, romance in his workroom. ~LOSS (20/9/24)

@manorinthewoods asked: "Is it because there’s a ‘good’ and an 'evil’ way for a God Tier to die?" On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate this brain fart? ~LOSS (20/9/24)

Wait, is that a brain fart? Because to me, it still scans.

Prospit, the 'good' moon, would naturally be associated with heroism, and vice-versa for Derse. Am I missing something really obvious?

Anonymous asked: Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Death's Bell grows ever nearer. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. But will it determine whether the thief is trully a sinner? Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Honk. I guess we'll see :o) @ben-guy asked: The showdown between Vriska and Terezi really is one of the watershed moments of HS imo. You've questioned if Vriska has matured enough to escape death by mysterious transcendental judgement engine… but let's not forget the meanings of the words in question, and their inherent linguistic and philosophical ambiguity. What if her death being caused by her pursuit of a heroic (albeit foolish) plan tragically makes her growth the cause of a permanent death instead? What if Terezi's decision to kill her is just regardless of Vriska's motivations, making her growth a moot point? Of course, this feels a lot less mutually exclusive, which goes against the implications of the clock imagery. […]

How did Scratch phrase it again?

The terms of a God Tier permadeath are defined according to the case of the individual - which implies that Heroic and Just are subjective, even to Sburb. It sounds like there might not be any ironclad rules, and that everyone's ruling works differently.

Yes, Scratch appears to be outlining some universal examples here - but what does, say, 'corruption' really mean? There are many equally valid interpretations, and a lot of them are contradictory. Maybe each death uses the definition that makes the most sense to that player.

In any case, I think Vriska's fate is currently meant to be unclear. She's designed from the ground up to be a complex, morally ambiguous character, and you could construct a valid argument for either outcome.

For my part, I'm fully convinced this will resolve as Just. I've been predicting Vriska's death for most of the Act now, and it's extremely fitting for it to happen at Terezi's reluctant hands. All those Incidents are finally coming full circle, and they're coming for her.

@morganwick asked: Note that Scratch starts talking about dark pockets and needing to speculate immediately after Vriska sees Karkat and Terezi's corpses. That's all Terezi needed to see, which means it's all Scratch needed to know - and all Hussie needed to know as well.

True! The fight that Scratch couldn't call was part of a doomed timeline. Its outcome was completely irrelevant to the story - and therefore, there's a good chance that Hussie didn't bother to decide on the victor. Author Theory survives another day!

@relaxxattack asked: i dont know if this counts as spoilers (it's a quote from andrew hussie) but i think your theory on scratch's omniscience is basically spot-on! "Doc here refers to the dark spots, the pockets of void on which his vision is built. These hint at limitations to his omniscience. As an alt-author figure, his omniscience makes sense, since the author has sweeping knowledge of story details as well. Because I "know everything," he "knows everything" too. Of course, as I write the story, there are plenty of things I don't know yet, and the "not knowing" is always an important part of the process in this largely improvisational medium. The known gaps are worked into the story, evaded through time skips and other tricks, filling out the surrounding narrative until certain answers become clearer, and then revealed at the right moment. The voids are built around, and in a real way, become foundational, almost load-bearing gaps in knowledge, just as he describes. Pillars of shadow. So his dark spots are not only a limitation to an otherwise ridiculously overpowered villain that can be exploited, they're a feature of a specific type of "authorial omniscience" copied into his profile." -- Andrew Hussie

...and it's officially Hussie-approved! Let's fucking go!

Anonymous asked: One kind of less obvious thing he says about circumstantial simultaneity is that it weaves together perfectly disparate chronologies such as a pair of distinct sessions, so it seems it is at work when there is communication between sessions, such as conversations between humans and trolls. ie: The troll sending the message is circumstantially simultaneous to the human receiving the message. Ditto for the memos. Anonymous asked: Posting for someone else again. -DJ || I interpret Circumstantial Simultaneity to mean a very simple thing: "those events happens at different times, but at the same meta-time". Especially if the things happen in different worlds, and so happening at the same time is impossible, because different worlds have isolated timelines. - RM

That makes a lot more sense than my interpretation. I think I was thrown off by Scratch's insistence that Circumstantial Simultaneity is 'not fully comprehensible to a mortal mind'. His use of such phrasing led me to assume that the concept was more complicated than it appeared, leading me to try and puzzle out the 'real' meaning of the term.

So, in a nutshell, circumstantial simultaneity is when multiple sections of reality are linked by shared events, allowing their local timelines to synchronize. Seems straightforward enough.

Anonymous asked: i don't think scratch technically lied. there are multiple ways in which scratch could die in the same way that there are multiple ways in which anyone could die - an axe could theoretically kill you, but that doesn't mean there has to be a timeline where you get killed with an axe

The semantics here are pretty interesting.

Scratch has stated that there are multiple ways to kill him, which could mean:

That there are multiple scenarios which have a non-zero probability of killing him.

That there are multiple scenarios that would hypothetically cause him to die, if they actually occurred.

These two statements have fairly similar meanings, but, as anon pointed out, there's an important distinction between the two. Statement 1 requires Scratch to actually die in some timelines, but Statement 2 doesn't require him to ever die, in any timeline.

Scratch has stated that he'll only die in one timeline, which means that there is only one scenario that will ever lead to his death. All other scenarios will never lead to his death - and thus, even if they could 'hypothetically' kill him, the probability that they will kill him is zero.

@heliotropopause asked: Never change, Noir. is that the oil jug WV uses for his mural in act 2? how'd it get to Scratch's lair?

I don't think it's the same jug, for the simple reason that both Carapacians emptied out the whole thing for their respective shenanigans. This ain't no Alchemy Jug!

abysswarlock asked: I like to think that the meta joke with the disks are a parallel of how the kings scepters hold small instantiations of skaia that exist within skaia itself, in this case the story of homestuck exists in disk form within the narrative itself.

Perhaps, but the Scepter's recursion is explained to be a game mechanic, whereas there's currently no explanation for the disk's existence. I guess Hussie himself could have put it there, but, like... why?

Anonymous asked: ‘His army thus inspired would spearhead a major re8ellion. Surely one at least on the scale of the sectarian revolt crushed 8y the High8loods, who thereafter for8ade its mention, or any invoc8tion of the heretical sym69ls at all, even in private journals.’ do you have any theories about this line?

Karkat's leadership shines in times of immediate crisis, which is part of why he struggled to keep his team together in the Veil. He doesn't know how to motivate people without an immediate, in-your-face threat - but since his ancestor was leading a rebellion, that probably wasn't an issue for him. The threat was omnipresent.

In short, I think Karkat Senior was always in Vantas Panic Mode. He'd have spearheaded Alternia's first rebellion with vim, vigor, seemingly infinite stamina, and sheer, bloody-minded determination - and if he was anything close to as likeable as Karkat, folk heroism was virtually inevitable. I can't wait to learn more!

@semaphoricwave asked: w.r.t. learning Mindfang dates the Summoner: it makes you wonder if Vriska's obsession with Tavros was the Alternian equivalent of comphet. She had no respect for his agency in the scenario (not difficult to develop when you're able to mind control people), but also she didn't seem to hold much stock in her own agency in all that, either. It's not even a cueball fortune, she just seems to want to be true: this boy she wants to 'make better' (but doesn't know how) is meant to make her happy. Anonymous asked: so with the revelation of the summoner, this makes TWO characters that vriska canonically was in/pursued as part of a romantic relationship that were descendants from her ancestors romantic partners. girl is inventing new kinds of comphet 😭

Vriska, for god's sake. Terezi is right there.

@iknowitsgreen asked: I find it so interesting that there's now an implication that Vriska literally expected Tavros to grow wings and fly to safety when she threw him off that cliff. The question is, did she simply resent Tavros for proving her fantasy wrong, or did she convince herself that Tavros chose to be paralyzed over showing his wings to her? It somewhat recontextualizes her early treatment of him either way

Layers upon layers upon layers. Vriska was fucked up about Tavros from twenty directions at once, and should never have been let within a thousand feet of the poor guy.

@manorinthewoods asked: Since trolls growing wings is apparently some sort of mythic event, presumably the God Tier wings of Vriska specifically tie into this. A God Tier troll gaining wings would be much more significant to the troll than to the human reader, as their culture places incredible emphasis on the meaningfullness of such - and perhaps the God Tier ascension could be likened to such a 'pupation'. ~LOSS (10/9/24)

It would explain why both Vriska and Aradia got them, but John didn't. The trolls have a lot in common with insects, so it stands to reason that in their culture, an insect's metamorphosis would be associated with divine apotheosis.

Anonymous asked: It’s super fascinating riding along as you go through this sequence because when I first read homestuck literally all the mind games went over my head haha. I saw what happened, and had a decent grasp on the characters, but the idea that Gamzee was manipulating Terezi? Never occurred to me. Everything about “why didn’t Terezi suspect Gamze” was just a mystery I never solved (mostly because I never understood gamzee, and still don’t) So Thank You so much for helping me understand better, years later! It’s so wild to look back and know what happens, but still have a limited grasp on why it went down that way.

Thank you for the kind words!

And yeah, a lot of Gamzee's schtick seems to be focused on obfuscating what he's actually doing. The real smoking gun there was the near-complete loss of Terezi's deductive abilities, at the exact moment Gamzee should have entered her radar.

@skelekingfeddy asked: ive always seen the grand highblood as not a troll, but like, the head of the imperial drones. when asked why his blood is black hussie said ‘Because he’s a huge gross monster? I don’t what sort of answer would be meaningful.When the highbloods were setting up the judicial system, they said ok we’re going to need some judges for this thing. Then they said ok how about these massive brainless monsters, that would be so perfect.’ […] its a headcanon of mine that hht is technically the same species as the mother grub. same with the imperial drones. if the mother grub is a queen bee then the drones are…well, drones. and hht is, like, a drone foreman, or sergeant, or something. i imagine that trolls and the drones’ species evolved a reproductive symbiosis, but then the empire took advantage of it and co-opted the drones + hht as enforcers

There's such an interesting untold story here, about how the early trolls might have cyberized a formerly symbiotic species, and essentially made them its slaves.

I've always been interested in how, exactly, the trolls developed their symbioses, and what they might have looked like before Alternian civilization became what it is today.

Anonymous asked: terezi tries to play disc 2 on a gramophone because she literally doesn't know how a cd works - sgrub is all run via grubtech, and most of her humanning has been with mr turntables who even if asked would probably describe a cd through obtuse metaphor likening it to a vinyl record

Oh, good point. Terezi's from a civilization which left CDs behind a long, long time ago.

Hey, come to think of it, why does the Veil even have a…

...oh, right. The room isn't 'canon', so I probably shouldn't be trying to theorize too hard about its contents. It's not really part of the story.

@catlikeascendant asked: I had the impression that just like mindfang was vriska's FLARP character, Redglare was terezi's. That would explain terezi having the outfit and responding to the name, at least @somebody0214 asked: Terezi did roleplay a lot as the Redglare so it would make sense she would respond to Redglare. @dissonancies asked: I'm honestly not sure Terezi does know about her ancestor. […] Vriska had the journals, but she tries to keep her cards close to her chest- remember, "Mindfang" was Vriska's roleplay name. Who's to say she didn't just "casually" "suggest" Redglare for Terezi's character, without telling her why?

Vriska, just how many of your friends have you been molding into their ancestors?

I won't be mad - I just want to know.

Anonymous asked: Equius Sr being fit to Inherit the cueball due his passive Voidiness is another point to sharing classpects with Equius Jr, the Heir of Void. @cationicflood asked: now that youve met the Expatri8, you know now why Scratch didn’t know Vriska had the cue ball until Terezi told him — it’s spent untold centuries ensconced in Zahhak-flavored Void aura. Even when it was in Vriska’s possession, it so happened she was quite literally neighbors with Equius.

We've talked a lot about how I believe Scratch's 'dark pockets' represent information that Hussie hasn't decided on yet. It's admittedly a little difficult to reconcile that with the fact that Void, an in-universe Aspect, is strongly implied to be the source of at least some of these pockets.

Maybe Aspects can work on a meta level, as well as a literal one. Like, perhaps Void is the aspect of author uncertainty, and therefore, anything that Hussie hasn't decided on out-of-universe is canonically 'hidden by Void'.

Anonymous asked: Mindfang warning Vriska about looking into the cueball…. So what you're saying is that Mindfang warned Vriska about the *stares*

It literally keeps happening!

@wolygan asked: So based off of the troll Ancestors we have seen, what do you think the rest might be like? also what do you think of the ones we have seen, since we don't know much about them yet. @absinthe-and-alabaster asked: Hi! I'm wondering if you have any updated thoughts from your initial ancestor theory post about the ancestors we haven't seen yet, given we know a bit more about troll history now

Not a lot! I'm obviously curious about the others, particularly Karkat's, but it's hard to come up with any concrete theories, other than 'their experiences and personalities will parallel those of their descendants', which is a freebie, based on the Ancestors we already have.

Anonymous asked: To be fair to EQ,Nepeta was far and safe when Gamzee attacked, and she could easly hide out of harm way with her skills. He just miscalculated and didn't realise she would follow him and attack Gamzee after he died.

True - but at the same time, he knew that Gamzee would still remain at large after his death, and that he, Equius, would no longer be able to protect Nepeta.

Even if she hadn't attacked him immediately, Gamzee would have remained a significant danger to everyone else on the Veil, Nepeta included. Had Equius fought back, he could have ensured that Gamzee would never be able to harm her.

@martinkhall asked: It's obvious to us that's not Vriska's handwriting. But just because Terezi can smell what the words say doesn't nesisarily mean she can smell the difference in how they're writen.

Plus, would Terezi necessarily be familiar with Vriska's handwriting? After all, most of the trolls seemed to communicate exclusively through modern technology. Would they really have any cause to pass notes to each other while FLARPing?

Anonymous asked: I would push back on the assertion that Heroic and Just deaths are the only way stories can work. One can be slain by a villain but not be a hero, and that can still matter to the story. A certain event from A Song of Ice and Fire springs to mind.

Oh, for sure - that's definitely correct outside of Homestuck. But within the comic, they really might be the only ways to die that Sburb considers 'dramatic' enough to be permanent.

Outside of the God Tier system, though, anything goes. After all, Equius was slain by a villain, and he didn't exactly die a hero.

@flerponius asked: Not really relevant to anything that's going on right now, but I thought you might find it interesting. In the Homestuck physical books, AH comments that the 4 grist types unlocked by default at the beginning of the comic (not including build grist) are related to the players quests; specifically, each grist type is a blight on the land it's found on, and the players quest would involve removing it from the land. I don't think this was explained anywhere else in the comic.

Oh, interesting. I wonder what they were supposed to be for?

Like, how does Rose's chalk relate to bringing life back to her oceans? Did Hussie have different Quest in mind for her, back then?

@manorinthewoods asked: The human session is shaping up to have lasted for less than a week due to Jack's interference, while the trolls slogged through over 600 hours (probably 612, to be specific, or 25.5 days) of relationship drama, powerleveling, and the production of inane yet somehow powerful weapons. Which of these is a more 'normal' length for a session? Did the trolls take too long, or were they rushing? Do bigger sessions last for longer? ~LOSS (2/9/24)

I'm pretty sure the troll session was closer to a 'typical' length.

According to Karkat, the human Reckoning arrived significantly sooner than normal - I assume this was due to Jack's double regicide.

If the human session had gone more smoothly, I imagine that it, too, would have taken several weeks. Like the trolls, the kids would have been able to hang out in person - and unlike the trolls, it probably wouldn't have devolved into multiple homicides.

@cheyj05 asked: Hey, just so you know it's pretty much impossible to read your liveblog in order on mobile. Searching the act 1 tag doesn't work so you pretty much would just have to scroll ALL the way back, which is impossible @cheyj05 asked: Ignore my last ask, I figured out how to do it

Mind sharing how, actually? I've been assuming that this was impossible, due to the Tumblr app's, uh, unique issues. If there's a way to browse the tags properly on mobile, I should probably add it to the pinned.

Anonymous asked: What do you mean "barely wind-themed", John made a car fly with his wind powers, why is a boat less believable?

You're not wrong. I guess I meant more that the boat's Breath energy looked a lot less like actual wind, and more like the abstract idea of Breath. It might just be stylistic, though.

@wolygan asked: I read another liveblog for Homestuck, and they just got to meeting Jade and then wrote a short essay on how they are convinced that Jade is the seer of light, just thought you might find that funny to know.

I do find that funny to know! Hussie got 'em again!

[burnednotburied]

Chapter 5: The Aquarium

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas; sorry (but not that sorry) to any Owen fans, but he’s kinda a huge asshole in this

Note: I added chapter titles and finally figured out exactly where I’m going with this story lol. Hooray for having a plan!!

(Sorry it took more than two weeks to get this chapter out! End-of-semester craziness, ya know? I hope this chapter being like twice as long as usual makes up for it!)

----------------------------------------------------------------

Abby realized too late that she probably should’ve warned you about the life-sized whales on the ceiling.

By the look on your face, she could tell you’ve never seen anything like it.

Which made sense. She hadn’t either before she and Owen found this place three years ago.

She paused to watch you for just a second, taking in your amazed expression as you marveled at the enormous hanging sea creatures above you.

Abby could easily remember what her first time here was like. How incredible and other-worldly this place felt. She imagined it must be even more overwhelming for you, this fractured piece of a world you were not a part of and knew little about. A world where humans built a place where they could go to look at fish for no reason other than that it was entertaining. A world where people did things just for fun.

Of course, Abby had also never been a part of that world, but at least she knew about it. She’d caught glimpses of it, carefully and intentionally gathering bits and pieces. She watched films and documentaries. She read novels and history books, newspapers and magazines if she could find them.

Knowledge was power. And, to Abby, having power was important. Having power meant being able to keep the people she cared about safe.

And if you had enough power, no one could ever take it away from you.

So she dedicated herself to becoming powerful, both of mind and of body. It’s all she had known and cared about since she lost her dad.

It’s why she lost Owen.

She still wasn’t sure if that had been a good thing or a bad thing, but she knew she felt guilty about it.

Three years ago, Owen had quickly claimed the aquarium as his own. He cleaned it up, made it feel as homey as possible, and spent as much time here as he could get away with. Abby didn’t tell anyone, not even the rest of the Salt Lake crew. It was right around the time they were breaking up. She felt like she owed him her discretion at the very least. Not that it really made up for anything.

Yesterday morning, when Nora told Abby that Owen was missing, she assumed he’d come here.

God, she hoped she was right.

Abby shifted the injured Yara in her arms, her muscles burning from carrying the girl for so long.

It was early in the morning now. The sun had just begun to rise as the four of you had been making your way into the aquarium.

“Owen!” she shouted, leading the way down one of the hallways off the main entrance. Abby thought he would most likely be out on the boat, either sleeping or continuing in his never-ending attempts to get the thing in working order.

“Owen!” she called out again. “Owen! Are you here?”

She paused for a moment, listening. Nothing.

“Owen—”

“I’m here.” She heard his voice just before he rounded the corner, stopping short when he saw the whole group of you. “Are those Scars?” he asked, genuinely surprised and definitely confused as hell.

Abby ignored the question. “I need whatever medical supplies you have.”

Before Owen could respond, Alice came barreling around the corner, barking aggressively at the perceived enemies.

The next few seconds were chaotic to say the least.

You screamed and jumped back. Lev reacted quickly, his bow drawn and an arrow notched.

“Alice, no!” Abby yelled out.

Owen grabbed for the German Shepherd, holding her back as she continued to lunge forward, trying to attack.

“Put the bow down! It’s okay!” Abby shouted.

Owen gripped the dog’s harness tightly. “Put that down!”

“Alice, shut up! Lev, put the bow down!”

“Alice, stop—Abby, what the fuck?!”

“Lev, listen to them! Put it down!” you insisted, putting a hand on his shoulder as you tried to push him behind you.

All of this happened simultaneously, muffled by the sound of deafening, echoing barking.

“Alice!” a new voice, one that Abby knew belonged to Mel, shouted. To her, the dog listened, sitting down obediently with one final bark.

Mel stood next to Owen and Alice, staring.

There was a moment of silence.

Abby turned to the young boy. “Lev, lower the bow. It’s okay.”

Reluctantly, he listened.

“Abby, who are these people?” Mel asked.

“They saved my life,” she said, hoping that would be enough of an answer for now. “Can you take a look at her?” Abby looked down at Yara, who seemed to be barely conscious in her arms.

Mel dropped a hand on Alice’s head, instructing her to stay, as she slowly stepped closer, eyeing you and Lev cautiously.

“This is Yara,” Abby said before nodding over to the kid at her right, “That’s Lev. And that’s—” She stopped short. She wasn’t about to introduce you to them as Prophet.

Behind her, you spoke, offering up your name. Abby and Lev’s eyes both swung to you, widening for two entirely different reasons.

Abby’s because she was hearing your name for the first time. It was your name. It was like she discovered a brand new piece to this puzzle she had been frantically trying to assemble since the moment she saw you.

She wasn’t sure why Lev looked shocked, but it seemed like a big deal, for you to use your name in place of the title that had been forced upon you by the other Scars.

Abby quietly repeated the name, committing it to memory.

Mel gave a small nod, unaware of the mini revelation that was happening right in front of her, instead focusing on Yara with a concerned look on her face.

“What did this?” she asked, looking down at the girl’s mangled arm.

“A hammer,” you said, stepping forward until you were standing right next to Abby.

“It wasn’t me,” Abby quickly added. Guilty, despite her innocence. She was ashamed that she needed to make that clarification. Worried about what you would think about it.  

Mel hesitated, regarding each of the Scars one by one again before sighing. “Alright. Let’s lay her down.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

The pregnant woman—clearly someone Abby knew but wasn’t exactly friendly with—decided that Yara had compartment syndrome, which apparently meant they would have to cut her arm off.

While everyone else argued about the best way to accomplish that task, you stood off to the side, feeling sick. If you had been able to stop Emily’s men last night, this wouldn’t be happening.

It shouldn’t be happening.

Yara was going to lose her arm or die because you failed her.

You were trying not to spiral. Trying to be helpful now. (Too little, too late.) Trying to pay attention to the Wolves’ conversation.

They didn’t have the supplies they needed to perform the amputation safely. Yara didn’t have time to wait the couple days it would take Abby to travel all the way to the hospital and back.

“What if we could get you there in two hours?” Lev asked, hands grasping the metal table where Yara laid in the center of the room. “The Wolf hospital, right? On the west side?”

The man—Owen—stood, interested. “How?”

“The bridges,” you said, realizing what Lev was getting at. All eyes turned to you. “Our people built them. High up.”

Lev nodded. “It’s how we get around the flooding. And… you people.”

After a quiet moment, Abby stepped forward. “Can she handle two hours?”

The woman considered this, her hand comfortingly placed on Yara’s shoulder. “Probably, yeah.”

Abby nodded. “Then make a list of what you need.”

Owen stepped closer, joining the circle the rest of you had formed around Yara. “Wait. Are you serious? Abby, these bridges are used by Scars.”

The fact that he was arguing against the plan frustrated you. Yara didn’t have time for this.

“They only send in small groups at a time,” Lev said.

“You heard that? Small groups.” Abby said, watching as the other woman jotted down the supplies on a loose piece of paper and handed it over.

“This isn’t a joke.” Owen looked only at Abby, trying to catch her eyes. She seemed to be actively avoiding making contact.

Instead, she turned to you and said your name, followed by, “Let’s go.”

You looked up at her, at a loss for words. It was sad that something as simple as hearing your name could have this effect on you, but it had been eight years since you’d heard it… And this was already the second time Abby had said it.

You wanted to turn and walk right out the door with her, happy to follow her anywhere, but reality set it.

“I can’t,” you said. “I don’t know where the hospital is. And I don’t know our bridges well enough to guide you. It will have to be Lev.” It looked like Abby might argue with you, or at least tell you to come with them.

You wanted to. The idea of letting Lev go back out into danger without you made you sick with worry. But, foolish as it may seem, you trusted Abby to look out for him. And you didn’t understand these other Wolves and the strange dynamic at play here. You certainly didn’t trust them to be alone with Yara.

“Someone needs to stay with her,” you said, holding Abby’s gaze.

She nodded, grabbing her backpack off the floor. “Alright. Lev.”

He looked to you, taking your hand in his. The group splitting up must’ve felt wrong to him, too.

Almost on instinct, you did what you had been trained to do. You offered a bit of comfort.

“May She guide you,” you said quietly, giving him a small, encouraging smile as you squeezed his one hand between both of yours.

The words were familiar to you both, a common Seraphite mantra. He reciprocated your tight grasp and finished the line, “May She protect you.”

When you released his hand, he placed it on Yara’s shoulder, as if to tell her goodbye as well. She was unresponsive.

You felt a hand fall on your own shoulder and looked up to find that it was Abby. She nodded her head to the opposite end of the room, impatiently taking your wrist in her hand and leading you over there when you didn’t immediately catch her meaning.

She didn’t let go.

Abby stood close, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. “We’ll be back as soon as possible. Yara’s going to be fine, okay. And I’ll keep Lev safe.”

You couldn’t help the slight upward curve of your lips. “I know,” you said. “I trust you.”

She blinked, caught off guard, but continued. “I wouldn’t mention the whole you-being-the-Prophet thing to Owen and Mel if I were you.”

“I’m not a prophet,” you deadpanned.

She let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, sure. Well I wouldn’t tell them that the Scars think—”

“Seraphites,” you interjected.

“—Seraphites—Just… you get the point. Don’t mention it, okay?”

“What if they ask questions?”

“Dodge them. Be vague.”

“You don’t trust your friends?” you asked, more serious now.

“No,” Abby said. “Not with you.”

You couldn’t begin to guess what she meant by that.

“I trust them… for the most part.” She glanced at them over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again. “I just don’t know how they would react to that information. It’s not exactly a small thing. I don’t know what they would do with it.”

You looked at her for while longer, then nodded your head. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“Abby?” the man’s voice came from behind you.

She let go of your wrist immediately, as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

You turned around to find the woman—Mel—and Owen both looking at you like they were witnessing something truly insane, instead of just two people having a conversation.

Lev stood on his own by the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eager to get moving.

From behind you, you felt Abby’s hand wrap around your wrist again, squeezing lightly and then letting go.

“We’ll be back,” she said, this time at a normal volume. She joined Lev by the door, opening it and leading the way out.

“Abby!” Owen said again, moving to follow them out.

Mel groaned, frustrated. “God! Owen, just let them go.” When he ignored her, she went after him, the door slamming loudly behind her.

You stayed behind with Yara.

She was blinking slowly, barely awake, her shallow breaths too few and far between for your liking. You felt helpless, knowing there wasn’t much you could do other than sit and wait.

You pulled up a chair.

Just outside the door, the two Wolves were arguing. Although, you only caught bits and pieces of it.

Something about Abby and Scars and a cloak… Something about someone who looked like she just stepped out of The Lord of the Rings. You didn’t know what that meant, but it was clear they were talking about you.

Again, you unfastened the cloak and freed yourself of your top layer. Whether that was due to embarrassment or a sudden recognition of the uncomfortable warmth of the room, you couldn’t tell.

“Did you see how she was looking at her?” “Owen, why do you care? Why does it matter to you?” you heard through the door.

The dynamic here was becoming more and more confusing.

You’d assumed that Owen was the father of Mel’s child, just because they seemed to live here together. But that didn’t explain Mel’s rather apparent unfavorable opinion of Abby. And it definitely didn’t explain Owen’s preoccupation with Abby.

Their conversation continued for several minutes, volume rising and falling periodically. There wasn’t much you understood and even less of it seemed important or interesting to you.

Eventually, the door swung open again, making you jump in your seat. Mel reentered the room, offering you a strained smile as she checked on Yara. You quietly watched her work.

“There’s not much we can do for her until Abby and your friend get back,” she said to you, eyes still focused on Yara. “If you want, I can get you set up with a place to sleep while we wait.”

“No,” you said, too quickly to be polite. “…Thank you. I’ll stay with Yara.”

Mel pulled her lips into a tight line and nodded, leaving the room again. She came back a few minutes later with water and a shiny red apple, offering them up for you to take.

“Sorry. I know it’s not much. Owen isn’t well-stocked on food right now,” she said after you’d accepted the snack.

You smiled. “Thank you. You’re very kind to be helping us at all.”

Mel didn’t really answer, instead gesturing to the door as she walked toward it. “Well, we’ll… be around. If you need anything. And I’ll come in and check on her periodically.”

You nodded, quietly thanking her again. The discarded cloak that you’d left on a table by the door caught your eye. “Oh. Wait.”

She turned to face you again, eyebrows raised in question.

“What is The Lord of the Rings?” you asked.

----------------------------------------------------------------

An excursion that was supposed to take two hours ended up taking nearly all day.

But hey, Abby had done the best she could.

She faced her deeply-rooted fear of heights on that sorry excuse for a bridge. She fought off Infected and Scars. She was, let’s say, detained by her fellow WLF soldiers at the hospital. And then she had to fight and kill what must’ve been the biggest, gnarliest, freakiest blob of cordyceps infection to ever exist.

She barely got out of there alive, but she managed to leave with the medical supplies in hand. Plus tons of new material for her future nightmares.

Mel had started operating as soon as they got back to the aquarium, with Owen assisting her.

You and Lev sat just outside the door the entire time.

The surgery had gone well. Yara was doing okay, all things considered.

After, Owen handed Abby a pile of sleeping bags and blankets and walked off without saying a word.

Abby handed them off to you and carefully lifted Yara again, this time to move her to a more comfortable spot to rest. She led the way to the next room, you and Lev trailing behind.

There was a long couch in the new room. You motioned for Lev to lay down on one end while Abby set Yara down on the other.

She stepped back and watched, amused, as you fussed over the two of them for a few minutes, using most of the blankets on your young friends.

When you were sure they were both as comfortable as possible, you left them to rest and walked back over to Abby. In your arms, you held the two sleeping bags that you hadn’t used on the kids.

You offered one of them to her.

She shook her head, motioning to the space on the floor in front of the couch where there was an old, worn-out rug.

“Lay mine out for me? I have to go do something before I go to sleep.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, looking concerned.

“I just need to talk to Owen. I’ll be right back.”

You studied her face, like you were trying to figure out whether or not she was being truthful.

Abby doubled down, pointing again. “Go. Get some sleep. I’ll be back.”

You sighed but went where she had pointed and began laying out the two sleeping bags.

One for you. One for her. Right next to each other on the floor.

You had been doing a good job of hiding it, but Abby could tell you were exhausted. She couldn’t blame you. Hell, she was exhausted. And the sooner she touched base with Owen, the sooner she could come back.

She turned and went out to track him down.

----------------------------------------------------------------

You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

You had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, but you couldn’t fall asleep. Your mind was racing. Filled with worry for Yara, concern about her condition, guilt for having been unable to prevent the injury from happening in the first place. Thoughts of your own people hunting your friends with the intent to kill them. Fear that, despite your desire to keep them safe, your lack of knowledge and experience in the world outside of Haven would make that impossible.

You thought about the woman you killed yesterday. How she’d so tenderly and earnestly called you her Prophet just moments before you snuck up behind her and ended her life.

You wondered if you too were now an apostate. If the Seraphites had found the bodies of Emily and her men and assumed you were dead, or if they somehow knew that you betrayed them all the very moment you were given the chance.

You wondered if your mother knew what you had done. If she would be punished for your sins.

You thought about Abby, hoping that your faith in her was not misplaced. Hoping that your attraction to her hadn’t clouded your judgment.

This was crazy. All of it. It was too much.

You had tossed everything and everyone you’ve ever known aside, thrown the first twenty years of your life to the wind like it meant nothing at all, and run off into the forest with a Wolf without a second thought. And now that you, Yara, and Lev were finally (seemingly) not in immediate danger, you had time to think things through. Contemplate what you’d done and try to figure out where it left you.

By your own hand, your life had been irreparably changed forever. It was done. There was no undoing it. No going back.

You would stay with Lev and Yara. You would stay with Abby if that’s what she wanted.

But where would you go? It wasn’t safe for any of you to stay here.

That wasn’t a question you could answer. You didn’t know of anywhere else. You wouldn’t know how to find a place that was safe.

All of these thoughts bombarded your mind at once, taking turns at the forefront. Contradicting emotions swirled, adding to the chaos.

There was a sadness, a sense of loss for the people you had always belonged to.

Guilt and shame. Two feelings that were not at all foreign to you, but you had never felt as strongly as you did now.

A lightness. A happiness. Almost a thrill. A hopeful nervousness for the freedom you had claimed for yourself, the agency you had uncovered, and the possibility of what was to come.

Sadness, again, for the mother you would miss, and the realization that you had already been missing her for a very long time.

Frustration—simmering anger—for your childhood that was stolen and the shame that did not originate within yourself. The unrelenting voices that lived in your head, weighing in on every thought and critiquing every action. But those voices were not your own. You would take your dagger and cut their presence from your mind, carefully carving them out of your head and disposing of them yourself if you could.

And, amongst everything else taking up space inside of you, demanding your attention, it felt stupid and frivolous and wasteful, but you couldn’t keep Abby from your thoughts. She kept appearing, in the middle of it all. This was something that you truly did not have time for and should not be putting energy toward.

But you had never felt intrinsically drawn to someone in the way you were drawn to her…

Behind you, you could hear slow, heavy breaths coming from either end of the couch. You were glad that Lev and Yara were getting some rest. You’d do your best to make sure they got their fill of it this time.

You got up quietly, trying not to disturb them but feeling like you needed to move. You shook out your arms, rolled your neck around, wiggled your fingers, stretched your legs.

Honestly, you wanted run. Or hit something. Or scream. Loudly and for a long time. Until you ran out of air and your voice was ragged.

But you didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you went to look for Abby.

----------------------------------------------------------------

“Seriously? You’re telling me Isaac’s top Scar killer just… turned over a new leaf? Decided to befriend and help three Scars?” Mel was staring into Abby’s soul, her words dripping in disbelief.

Abby had found her and Owen upstairs, in the same room that had once housed the boat man’s skeleton and the couple’s Christmas stockings (not at the same time, of course).

Owen was angry. Exactly what she had done to earn his anger, she couldn’t say. He held a jar of his homemade moonshine. A jar that was somewhere between three-quarters and one half full. Abby assumed it had been filled to the top just a few minutes ago.

He had apparently decided to be a silent, brooding drunk tonight, so Mel had been the one to interrogate her.

Abby tried to explain everything, albeit keeping things pretty vague. She didn’t want to give them too much information about you specifically, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong idea about you, so she made sure to omit the part where you nearly gutted her. And the part where you were the new Scar Prophet that Isaac was after.

Mel wasn’t buying the part where Abby simply had a change of heart.

She shot Owen a cautious look before she said, “Abby, do you—I thought you might—Is it possible that you’re…” Mel stopped, gathering her thoughts, trying to find the best way to word it. “It’s not… like… a problem that she’s a woman. It’s just… it is kind of a big deal that she’s a Scar—”

“Abby isn’t into a fucking Scar,” Owen interjected, his knuckles white around the mouth of the jar. “And she’s not fucking gay.”

Then he started chugging the jar’s contents, forcing down swallow after painful swallow.

The women were both silent for a second, surprised by the anger in his words.

Abby didn’t know what to say. She knew she was into you—and she’d be lying if she said that wasn’t at least part of the reason why she was helping you and your friends—but she had never considered if that made her gay.

She honestly didn’t really care to label herself as anything either way. It felt stupid—in the honest-to-god post-apocalyptic hellscape that they lived in, where they had been engaged in a never-ending war since they were kids—to care about that kind of thing.

Why should it matter—when her family was dead, her friends were constantly in danger, and there were enemies closing in from every angle—if she was romantically or sexually interested in men or women or both? Wasn’t that almost guaranteed to be the least important detail at any given moment? And why should she waste any of her time or energy trying to define herself in that way?

This was all really new to her. She hadn’t really let herself be interested in anyone since Owen, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she had ever been into him for the right reasons. Again, she remembered how uncomfortable it made her feel to kiss him, to be touched by him…

She couldn’t imagine that it would feel like that if you touched her. And just the fact that she hoped one day she’d find out was probably telling enough.

So maybe, in the Old World, people would’ve called Abby a lesbian. Maybe she would’ve identified with that title if things were different, if her life was lower stakes, and if she’d had more time to explore herself and her interests.

What-ifs didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here now. You were with her—and she needed to figure out a plan of how to proceed from here—so she could make sure to keep it that way.  She could figure out the rest later.

Mel was the first to speak, annoyed, but addressing him calmly, like she was talking to a rabid animal. “Owen—”

He didn’t even let her get a word in.

“No. This is bullshit! Abby—” He looked past Mel to meet Abby’s gaze, insistent. “I’m going to Santa Barbara to find the Fireflies. If you’re smart, you’ll ditch the Scars and come with me.”

Mel slammed her hands on the table, causing both Abby and Owen to jump. “What the hell do you mean, you’re going to Santa Barbara?! We are going to Santa Barbara!” They weren’t used to seeing violent outbursts from Mel. She was the queen of passive aggression, but she rarely lost her cool. “What is wrong with you, Owen? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? This is all so seriously fucked up.” She turned away from them, clenching her fists at her sides, looking like she might cry. Or hit something. Or both.

But for the first time in years, Abby wasn’t on the receiving end of her disdain.

Guess all she had to do for her old friend to stop seeing her as a threat was get entangled with the Scar Prophet. No big deal.

Owen, in a moment of clarity, seemed to realize how huge of an asshole he was being to the mother of his child. He set down his jar, stood, and walked over to Mel, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her into him, her back pressed against his front. He was swaying on his feet, his cheeks flushed, hands clumsy. If he hadn’t been drunk before, he definitely was now. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. We are going to Santa Barbara. Of course it’s we. Hell, the Scars can come too for all I care. We’ll make it a party.”

Abby rolled her eyes at his quick switch-up and turned to go. Clearly this conversation wasn’t going anywhere productive tonight, with Owen drunk, Mel upset, and all of them exhausted beyond belief.

There was a creak by the door, and all three of them turned to look, Owen’s reaction far more delayed than Abby and Mel’s.

You stood there in your long white dress, hesitant to come in. Shy, having clearly interrupted a tense conversation.

Abby wondered how long you’d been standing there unnoticed. Her instinct was to meet you in the doorway and take you back to bed, away from Owen’s rude drunkenness and Mel’s inquisitive eyes.

“Hey! Scar! How the hell are ya? Come join us! We were just talking about sunny California. Ever been?” Owen pulled away from Mel and plopped back down on the couch, finding his jar again.

“Umm…” You looked to Abby for guidance, but she was just as unsettled as you. “No. I haven’t… Sorry, I was just looking for Abby.”

“Yeah, I bet you were,” he mumbled under his breath. Abby wasn’t sure if you caught that, but she wasn’t interested in having you hear any more of this.

“Let’s just go,” she said to you, moving toward where you still stood in the doorway.

“No! Come! Sit! Let’s talk,” Owen insisted, slapping the spot next to him on the couch.

You gave Abby another hesitant look before walking past her to join Owen. Mel sighed and lowered herself into a nearby chair. When it became clear to her that retreating with you wasn’t an option right now, Abby walked back over. She stood right across from the couch so she could see you, leaned against the wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest.

You sat next to Owen, although not so close, putting as much distance between you as possible.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Abby wanted to punch him.

All of this was out of character for Owen, but she knew that he was always kind of unpredictable when he got drunk. With everything that had happened and emotions running so high, everyone really should just be going to sleep.

With that in mind, Abby would continue to stand nearby until you were ready to leave. She wouldn’t let things get out of hand.

“So… Scar—”

“Seraphite,” Abby corrected him. He scoffed and took another swig.

You smiled softly at her, looking grateful.

“Scar,” he said again. “Can I perhaps interest you in some hooch? Made it myself.” He offered up the jar for you to take, tilting it towards you with unsteady hands.

“No,” Abby immediately answered on your behalf. “She does not want any of your hooch.”

“Well give the girl a chance to answer,” he slurred. “What? Your little girlfriend can’t speak for herself? She can’t make her own decisions?”

You glanced back and forth between him and her, reaching for the open jar of clear liquid, properly baited by his taunting words.

Abby tried to remember that Owen was her friend—her best friend—and that he wasn’t usually like this.

“What is… hooch?” you asked, staring down into the glass jar suspiciously.

“It’s moonshine,” Abby said. When that didn’t clear things up for you, she added, “Alcohol.”

“Like wine?” you asked, tentatively sniffing it.

Owen laughed. Abby nodded, “Kind of, but it’s much stronger. Seriously, you won’t like it.”

There was a flash of something that looked like defiance in your eyes, offense taken at the idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle something that others could.

You put the jar to your lips and tilted it back enough to take in a generous mouthful.

Abby watched as your eyes went wide and you struggled to swallow it. Honestly, she was impressed that you didn’t immediately spit it out. You managed to choke it down before breaking out in a harsh coughing fit.

Owen laughed, accepting the jar as you shoved it back into his hands. Your eyes watered as you tapped on your sternum, taking a second to regain the ability to speak.

“You made that?” you wheezed in disbelief.

“Yep!”

“On purpose?”

Abby laughed at that, leaning back against the wall again once she was convinced that you weren’t dying.

“Hey, that’s prime hooch! You should be thanking me right now.” Owen took his own swig of it, lounging back against the couch with his arm resting along the back.

“Thank you?” You squinted your eyes but tried to be polite.

“I was kidding, princess. You don’t have to thank me.”

Abby, again, resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

“So,” Owen began, “tell me. How is it that you’re a Scar… but you’re not scarred?” He chuckled to himself, as if he had made a joke.

Your eyes shot to meet Abby’s, clearly unprepared to answer that question.

“Not every Seraphite has facial scars,” you said, keeping things vague.

“Every Scar I’ve ever seen does.”

“You’ve seen me, haven’t you?” you shot back.

Abby let out a surprised laugh. Owen clenched his jaw.

“Every Scar has face scars. It’s like your defining thing. It’s why we call you Scars.” He was adamant, unyielding. And the playful mask was starting to slip back into anger. Abby could tell this wasn’t going to end well.

“Well I guess you don’t know as much about Seraphites as you thought you did.” You were frustrated now, pressing yourself further into the far end of the couch to put more distance between the two of you.

Owen opened his mouth with a rebuttal, but Abby jumped in. “Lay off, Owen.”

He threw his hands up in surrender, leaning back against the brown cushions. “Fine, fine. Whatever. Forgive me for having questions. Fuck me, I guess. I’ve just never seen a hot Scar befo—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mel was on her feet. “Alright. That’s it. You’re done.” She had been sitting silently up until then, ready to intervene if things got out of hand, just as Abby had been. Apparently, Owen calling you hot was where she drew the line.

Abby was glad Mel was saying something. Because if things had gone much further, she really might’ve hit him.

“Get up,” Mel instructed firmly, standing over him. “You’re going to bed.” He let her take the jar out of his hands and, with much effort, pushed himself up off the couch and started walking toward the door. Mel was right behind him, hands hovering on either of his sides in case he lost his balance. He was grumbling under his breath the whole way, like a toddler whose bedtime was being enforced.

Abby watched them go.

Once they were out of sight, she looked down at you, only to find that you were already looking at her.

“Sorry,” she spat out. “About him. He’s not usually like that.”

You nodded, but you didn’t seem sure that you believed her.

“So you guys are… friends?”

Abby cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. We’ve known each other for years. Joined the WLF together. Me, Owen, Mel, and a few others.”

You considered this for a second before responding. “Where were you before?”

“Salt Lake City,” she said, looking down at her feet. “Utah.” Abby didn’t know if that would mean anything to you.

“Mel doesn’t seem to like you very much,” you said, observant, not trying to offend. Abby smiled, despite the meaning behind your words. You added, “And Owen doesn’t seem to like me.” You stated it like it was a fact, like it was neither good nor bad, just true.

“He’ll get over it. He’s just drunk.” Abby didn’t know if that was true, but she wanted to comfort you in that moment, not that you actually seemed to care all that much about Owen’s opinion of you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You were looking up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Anything, Abby thought. Out loud, she said, “Sure.”

She pushed away from the wall and came to sit next to you on the couch, filling the spot where Owen had been.

“Why do you people keep calling me princess?” you asked. Abby laughed quietly under her breath, turning her body to face you.

“I don’t know. There’s something about you that’s very princess-like I guess.”

You made a face at her. She smiled wider.

“It’s not a bad thing. You just come across as soft. Delicate. I don’t know… Graceful.”

“I am not delicate,” you said, defensive.

“I know.”

“I’ve killed.”

“I saw.” Abby was being serious, although she did find the conversation amusing. “You’re very skilled with a knife.”

You nodded, satisfied with her response, and fully turned to face Abby. “And what does hot mean? Why did he call me hot?”

“Oh—” Abby stuttered, “Uh—He meant… He was saying that you’re very pretty.”

“Oh.” You considered this, eyes wandering away. “Earlier he said I look like The Lord of the Rings.”

Abby smiled again. There was something about you that felt like it might’ve been taken straight from the high fantasy genre.

“Do you know what that is?” she asked.

“Yes. Sort of. I asked Mel. She said it was a film about a magical land. With fairies and stuff.”

“They were books first.”

“Have you read them?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you read a lot of books?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I try to read as much as I can. Whatever’s available.”

You nodded, thinking, letting the conversation die down.

After a moment, “Abby?”

“Hmm?” she hummed. She liked the way you said her name. Just the sound of it made her heart beat a little bit faster.

“Owen also called me your girlfriend.” You were studying her face, trying to read her reaction.

“Yeah. He did.” Abby said, looking into your inquisitive eyes.

“Does that just mean friend? Or is it something else?”

“He was just trying to piss me off.”

“So it does mean something else?” Your eyes were on her lips now, and you were ever so slightly leaned forward. Almost subconsciously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abby said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

She was pushing you away, and she didn’t know why. She could’ve answered that question so differently. Maybe she should’ve.

Abby wanted you. And she was almost certain that you felt the same way. At the very least, there was a curiosity. A hesitant attraction.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong. That anything with you would be something she wasn’t good enough for.

Something she didn’t deserve.

Something she would ruin if given the chance.

So tonight, she didn’t give herself that chance.

Was that noble or cowardly? She wasn’t sure.

You pulled away, turning to face forward as you let out a long breath, puffing out your cheeks.

“I’m tired,” you said, standing. “And I should check on Yara and Lev.”

“Yeah.” Abby nodded. “Okay.”

She remained in place, ready to mentally beat herself up some more and stew in her thoughts alone for a while.

You cleared your throat lightly, swaying on your feet. “Umm… I’m not sure that I can find my way back to the room. Can you… please—?”

“Oh.” Abby hopped to her feet. “Okay, yeah. I’ll… I guess I’ll go with you.”

She avoided eye contact, leading the way into the dark hallway.

[nico-esoterica]

You wanted to feel better so I made this for you ❤️‍🩹🩺❇️

From a mental health and survival pov, the best thing you can ever do is to say things are working in your favor or will.

You don't have to adopt any manifestation trend or technique which stresses you out or doesn't feel good. You don't have to do anything than change your perspective of what's happening around you.

Even if it's utter shit--You need to see them as changing. Even if one small thing wasn't as bad as yesterday or you at least woke up--that's something. You can have the worst week or month in the world but as long as you don't think against yourself, it's going to work out somehow. You don't need to be endlessly confident or positive. You just need to decide mentally that you're getting what you want no matter what. All hell can break loose and things can look devastating--but as long as you hold onto that, you WILL see your circumstances shift.

Take everything as a sign that things are getting better or are. Tenses don't matter.

Because we're not always feeling it. Many of us are neurodivergent and manifesting better living situations operating on zero sleep, food, stamina, and support. So holding onto faith sounds insane. However, if you've gone your entire life with that mindset, even if things got better yet you clung to negativity anyway, what have you got to lose? You've been betting against yourself your whole life. But that isn't your fault. No one believed in you or cared so you learned that faith wouldn't help you. We want to change things now. That's not always easy initially and may take a bit of time to accept. But as long as you don't commit to it not getting better, then it will. It already is.

Gratitude comes in great here. We can get so wrapped up in making things happen that we lose sight of the few good things that are working for us. That's an abundant mindset. That's being prosperous. You can still feel like you've got something going for you even when everything feels like it's going wrong. That perspective shift is going to give you a twinge of a good feeling once you cry it out, I promise. Breathe deeply through out the day and regulate your nervous system in the ways that feel natural and comfortable to you. You can acknowledge your emotions and observe your circumstances and get frustrated, depressed, etc, but still say, 'fuck it, we ball.'

Because there's a humor in it. Nothing can destroy you without your consent. And our circumstances look terrible but don't have to be. Buy that thing that's slightly over your budget. Cook yourself something small and nice that reminds you of the food you liked as a child, including nuggets. Eat cake and candy for breakfast while crying. Watch some cute animals like Moo Deng on video. I recommend creating a digital care package for your bad days and moments..even if they're constant. Make a folder on your phone, comp, tablet, etc, of everything that makes you genuinely happy. When things get dark or uncertain, I want you to look at that and feel everything you need to feel and let those emotions pass. We're strong but we're sensitive little creatures and taking care of ourselves should take the utmost priority.

As long as you don't change your mind, it's gonna have to come regardless. When you have that as a foundation, everything else just feels like a side quest/side plot that you'll feel more neutral towards. Circumstances won't seem so threatening. That perspective shift goes a long way and it helps your mental health like a cushion. Then that's when flickers of optimism spark and positivity will run like a current beneath everything. You don't have to be in a good mood or have a good day to manifest what you want. You just have to decide that you'll get it.

You will :)

[anystalker707]

triplicated [1/2]

Pairing: Zoro x [gn, amab] Reader x Law Kinktober prompt: Monster fucking + Hierophilia + 3some Tags: AU / Demon Zoro / Priest Law / man has 3 cocks and manages to bottom / not proofread ! PART TWO

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

          “Do you know how to deal with those?” You sighed, playing with one of the little crosses that hung from the chain attached to your belt loops. They were pure silver, like the ones that hung from your neck and from Law’s, like the rings you used. It was never too much.

Law raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you, sighing. “I’m sure it won’t be the worst we’ve gone through.”

Silence filled in for a moment as you two walked. Only the sound of the dry leaves and sticks crushed under your feet filled the ambient, with the sporadic call of a bird or another. It was always places like that. Random houses or mansions—even abandoned churches—had terrible cases regarding demonic presence, needing you and Law to check. The priest and deacon of the local church in a small, gloomy town that had more cases of supernatural occurrences than it should. How fortunate. If the silver at least meant wealth instead of protection, you’d be happier to receive it.

“It’s been a while since the last demon case, though,” you said, spotting the old mansion in the distance, between the trees. The last missions mostly involved ghosts or basic exorcisms. “And you know what happened.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” Law shrugged, adjusting his grip on the suitcase, while his free hand held his coat closed through a gush of wind that sent leaves flying. “There was no death.”

For a moment, you considered it, but it was still uncertain. “Maybe,” you muttered with a sigh.

          It was a simple house of a wealthy person, an average thing. Since the owner had left it recently so that you and Law could save the problem, there wasn’t any dust over the furniture. There was a presence in the house, of course, making a shiver run down your spine the moment you stepped in.

The soft clicking of Law’s suitcase being open resonated through the dining room before he threw the lid open, letting it hit the wooden table with a muffled noise. He removed the stuff he needed from it.

“Strong presence,” you said with a soft sigh, scratching the back of your neck as you looked around the room.

With the lack of response as Law went through his stuff, you just started walking around the dining room, inspecting the expensive and delicate dining sets exposed behind glass by the back. You narrowed your eyes, observing the intricate details, but… a small movement made you notice there was a figure reflected in the glass, opposite Law’s side. When you looked back, there was no one in the room aside from you, and the reflex was also gone.

“Yeah,” you muttered, walking out of the room and into the living room, checking the corners, shadows, and reflexes. Maybe it was going to manifest somewhere else or guide you somewhere.

Something moved down the hall, so you walked down to it, seeing one single door was open. It led to what seemed to be an office. Shelves of books were lined along opposing walls, and a wide desk with a big armchair sat by the back. It was wide. Some frames hung behind the desk, and you approached to check the images on them when something moved from the corner of your eye.

“We got comp— Ghh!”

A strong grip around your neck made the words die in your throat as you gasped for air, feeling someone right behind you. Their warm torso pressed to your back, breath suddenly fanning over your neck; you shuddered.

Despite needing a moment to recollect, you brought a leg up and kicked behind you as strongly as possible. The demon probably didn’t see the silver shoe clips coming.

Your neck was sore when you turned around to take a good look at him, holding the skin in an attempt to ease the pain, and it would be no surprise if the demon’s sharp nails had pierced through your skin.

The demon was confusing. There was a main figure, but also two others, though they weren’t solid like the middle one. All of them shared the same body from the waist down, and the same appearance from the waist up—the same protruding teeth, chest scar, earrings, and shiny green eyes that glared at you, though each figure had a scarred eye. Strong presence. The white kimono was lowered, only leaving his bottom covered, and there was a small tattoo along the middle figure’s collarbone, in old symbols. Zoro. Fuck, you swore you’d read that name before in those demonology books. Class unknown.

You were about to reach into your pocket when there was a hand around your wrist, followed by a couple on your waist, one around your other wrist, one on your shoulder, and the last tilting your head up to meet his eyes. Something about his—their?—gaze made a shiver run down your spine, stirring some warmth in your lower stomach. It was mesmerizing.

Your throat went dry. Fuck, you could’ve at least put on the silver bracelets today. Nothing would be too much against an enemy like that. Where was Law, even? Well, it didn’t matter now. There was a metallic smell on the demon’s breath as he leaned in, filling your lungs as the hands around your waist tightened to pull you closer, but it failed. You slowly let his hand guide yours but changed the trajectory so that you’d at least reach your chest.

Zoro cut through your clothes with his sharp nails instead of having you closer, and sank them into your skin the moment the silver cross touched his forearm. Along with the sound of a triplicated groan, a soft hissing sound came from the skin as the silver burned into it, leaving behind a cross-shaped burn when he finally stepped away, but you didn’t give him time to react.

Your chain with the cross pendants was yanked from your pants and wrapped around Zoro’s neck—the main one, it is—, keeping him a safe distance away from you by an elbow pressed to his chest. The silver in it wasn’t pure, so it didn’t do a lot of direct damage. Either way, it kept him at ease. Controlling the main one kept the other two under control, it seemed.

Soft huffs came from Zoro as he swallowed tightly against the chains, feeling them burn into his skin more with the motion of his throat. His breath was heavier, the main one having his eye closed, but the other two looked at you in anticipation.

“How’s that feel? Not so good, huh?” You clicked your tongue, still feeling the ache around your neck when you swallowed, though your breath hitched a little. Only now that you were cooling down that the pain in your torso was starting to manifest; it sharpened when you exhaled too fast while trying to catch your breath. You tightened the chain around his neck, and… he moaned?

Zoro’s hands shakily wrapped around your wrists again, loosely holding them as he whimpered, keeping his eyes pressed shut.

“Goddammit,” you whispered. Was he a succubus? An oni? Calamity? Sin? It’d help a lot if you knew what you were fighting against.

Your grip loosened on his neck, though you kept the chain there, ready to tighten it again in case he tried anything. With a deep breath, Zoro opened his eye again and looked at you with that same gaze from earlier; what was up with it? Fuck. His fingers took your chin again to keep your gaze on him, and then his breath was fanning on your neck—one of the two extra copies had his face right next to yours. When did you get so close to him? Why did it feel so… so hot…?

Two hands were under your shirt, pressed flat to the skin. His nails scratched a little, but they didn’t hurt this time; it actually felt good, sending a shiver down your spine. The way his hands pressed to your chest even snatched a quiet sound from your lips, which seemed to encourage him to keep going, pulling you closer by pressing his hands flat to your back. Were you supposed to feel like that? It was hard thinking about anything other than him, the way he pressed closer, one of the three faces pressing to your neck.

As the chain tightened around his neck for a few seconds, Zoro let out another moan, confirming your assumptions. Maybe, this would be good.

Zoro’s nail pressed lightly to your skin, right in the middle of your chest—the pain it caused on the way down sent sparkles down your body, and you couldn’t help how your hips twitched when his nails reached the hem of your pants. You gulped, keeping your hands in place, but his hands were everywhere. He just palmed you through your pants straight away, with a big and warm hand that squeezed the growing bulge.

          Law hadn’t gotten lost in the mansion this time, but he presumed you did. He simply hated when you did that, just disappearing when he blinked, and either getting in problems or leaving him to deal with everything all alone. Goddammit. He tightened his hand around the handle of the silver bayonet as he carefully walked down the mansion.

Living room: empty. Halls, bathroom, bedrooms, reading room, kitchen: also empty. Law pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing you, but he paused when he heard something. It was a faint sound, which would’ve easily gone unheard if he hadn’t paused and held his breath. Was that a groan? A cry? He cursed under his breath as he walked down the hall, to the last room. So that’s where the sounds were coming from.

“…that much, huh? I’ve just put it in. Shameless,” your voice reached Law’s ears followed by a chuckle as he opened the door, and he paused, widening his eyes at the sight.

There was a big demon over the desk—he laid back on it. The main version had his hands down the desk, sharp nails sinking in it; the second one seemed propped up on an elbow, off to the side, and the last was covering its face. You were there, holding the thick legs up by their thighs while standing between them, with your pants halfway down your thighs. Aside from all that, Law couldn’t help but notice the thick smell that filled the room.

A chuckle escaped your lips as you squeezed your hands, watching another triplicated moan come from the demon. “Tight,” you whispered with a groan, moving your hips shallowly, but still enough to make the demon gasp.

The creaking sound of a wooden tile made Law’s presence known, but you were the only one to notice that, looking at Law with a grin.

“‘Found him,” you said with a grin, which just intensified Law’s confusion. “Zoro. Pretty thing.” You looked at Zoro again and moved your hips, receiving a chorus of sighs that eventually turned into moans as you started trying to find a pace for your thrusts. It was a little messy at the beginning, your hips stuttering until you managed to start fucking him at a steady, slow pace.

One of the copies seemed especially sensitive, covering his face and squirming around more than the other two. Cute. You found it hard to focus on all of them, all the pleased expressions, even more so when his cock—well, cocks—kept stealing your attention.

Law didn’t know how to react when he saw the three cocks standing hard, flushed, and leaking a lot once he approached enough. Despite all of it, he couldn’t tear his eyes away, observing the triplicate chain of reactions of the demon as you kept fucking him.

“Mmph, tight,” you moaned with a gasp, moving your hips forward particularly sharply. “Such a good boy, so good for me…” The way Zoro clenched around your cock felt absurdly good. No human could compare to that. His ass clenched around your cock as if depended on it, wanting to take it in deeper, to have it keep pleasing him so deliciously. The praising had effects, of course; such strong, sharp nails were leaving back scratches on the wooden table.

Law stuttered. He didn’t know what to say or do, even if it wasn’t the worst nor weirdest situation he’d walked into—or participated in—, but he couldn’t drive his eyes away from the two of you. He observed the way your cock sank deep into Zoro, making Zoro’s thighs tremble and cocks twitch, leaking more. A shiver ran down Law’s spine, and his own cock throbbed inside his pants.

You bit your lip, letting go of one of Zoro’s thighs to press a hand to his chest. His leaked in your hand as you squished it, making you twitch inside Zoro. He clenched so tightly when you pinched his nipple, fuck…

“Law, don’t just stand there,” you said breathlessly, glancing at him. “Fuck his throat, I don’t know. He looks like he will like anything. He’s a good boy.” You grinned as you praised Zoro again, and he clenched around you almost immediately.

Okay. Law took a deep breath before he set his bayonet aside, letting it drop to the ground beside him, just in case. He stood by the other side of the desk, opposite to you, about to say something when you reached forward.

“Easy, baby,” you whispered as your hand wrapped around Zoro’s neck, and Law noticed your chain adorning the demon like a choker.

As you pushed Zoro’s head back, it hung from the edge of the table, looking at Law upside down. Law’s eyes were glued to him, watching the long tongue lick his lips and teeth before it opened. How could Law resist? He gulped. He was still opening his jeans when two of Zoro’s hands wrapped around his thighs to pull him closer; Law barely had space to do it, but he could lower his underwear.

Zoro’s tongue already found Law’s cock as soon as it was free—it licked along its length as Law slowly guided it into Zoro’s mouth, already snatching a few moans from the priest, even more with the soft vibrations from Zoro’s moans as you kept fucking him.

As Law’s eyes averted back to you, he noticed your gaze following his cock entering Zoro’s mouth, slowly. It made his cock twitch; he observed you for a moment longer before he looked down at Zoro again, making sure he could start moving his hips. He hissed softly at the feeling—the demon’s mouth was hot and wet around his cock, his tongue did such a fantastic job running along his veins, and the light friction of his teeth… Fuuuck. Law gasped, slowly starting to fuck Zoro’s mouth.

It was such a sight, honestly. You could see where Law’s cock was inside Zoro’s throat, and your cock twitched at that, thrusts growing sharper for a moment. Zoro hissed, one of his copies whimpering as he covered his face.

“My, my,” you whispered with a soft groan, letting go of both Zoro’s thighs this time. “I didn’t know such a powerful demon could behave so well, so— Nnghh, tight— Such a good boy,” you gasped, hips stuttering at the way Zoro clenched tightly around you. “Do you want my cock that badly? So needy,” you mumbled, holding on to his waist before your hands slowly slid down.

Your hips kept a steady, intense pace while your hands wrapped around Zoro’s cocks. You held only two of them at once, grazing their tips. He leaked so much that you’d easily believe he’d come already if you hadn’t been here all the time. You had a different idea, holding all three cocks with both your hands, making sure it was tight as you started jerking him off, feeling the cocks twitching in your hands. Hot. Deliciously hot.

It made Zoro go wild, holding Law tighter to encourage him to fuck the demon’s throat more, as one of the copies leaned back with a hand on his head, and the other rolled his eye back, with a hand over his mouth. All while he tightened more around you. Your thrusts were so sloppy already, Zoro was so tight.

“Fuck,” you gasped, managing to get the cross off around your neck. Only God knew what Zoro would do if he decided to show his real strength. The bottom edge of the silver cross ran along Zoro’s skin, burning it to leave behind a containment sigil. For some reason, Zoro liked that, with more moans coming from him as he clenched around you. It drew a louder, breathy moan from you as you returned your hand to his cocks, jerking him off along with your pace, and your gaze fell back to Law.

Law’s cock sank into the demon’s throat at a steady pace, making him moan as he pleased himself, with a hand pressed to Zoro’s chest. Your gaze averted to Zoro’s throat, and it didn’t take you a lot to fucking cum, gasping as you thrust deep inside Zoro, spreading your cum along his hot walls while you rode down your high. It felt so good, so draining, weakening your legs.

Your hands continued their motions, of course, and your attention drove down to Zoro’s cocks with the thought of what it’d be like when he came. Law turned into detail in the back of your mind while you focused on making Zoro cum, tightening your hands around him, and there it was.

Zoro came a lot, making a whole mess against himself as his three cocks came in spurts of sticky, hot cum. Meanwhile, he clenched around you so tightly—you hissed, squeezing his cocks a little more just in case.

Law also seemed to finish, taking a step back and adjusting his clothes, but the demon didn’t move. He and his copies just sat there, processing the session or maybe catching their breath. With a sigh, you shared a look with Law, also trying to catch your breath.

“I think I’ll keep this one,” you said as you held Zoro’s waist. “Just in case.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

PART TWO

[annislittleshopofhorrors]

You know, I love your blog and your funny/shady comments about 🐟 unable to handle her husband getting the attention and not her.

But I’ll admit, I always laughed it off because we can say that but nobody really knows what’s happening.

Until yesterday. LMAO. I know, I’m sorry for not really listening to some of y’all… but she needs some serious help and for once, to put down her goddamn phone.

I also realized that I knew she was going to try and do something to put the attention back on her and nothing she does on IG is ever a coincidence. This is the actions of a very manipulative but also very stupid individual with narcissistic tendencies. To her five asskissers, look away.

She follows that light and dwell designer the day after people made fun of her for showing her PT apt (btw, now I wonder if she was hoping people would think it was the house her husband was allegedly building for her in PT like some blogs believe)

When that didn’t work, follow this designer lady back after months (funny how she does this quite often when she’s not getting the attention she wants).

Follows some random directors. She still wants a job. That custom ugly furniture ain’t gunna pay for itself!

Posts a random photo dump of suggestive photos to indicate nothing but also making sure the ones who care will try and figure out if she’s in MA, NY, NYC, Canada, Wherever the narrative of where she lives fits.

meanwhile, her husband is in NYC filming with his attractive female costar who is much more well known than her (even if it’s the nepo baby comments) and has two films of her own coming out this month and her Madame web movie is still doing pretty well on Netflix.

Their pap photos are much better received by the general public and have comments shipping them and wishing they were together instead. Yikes!! Also…they actually do look good together. They fit.

Btw, I don’t think 🐟 is jealous of Dakota because of Chris. TBH, I don’t think she’s into her “husband” at all. From her actions, she doesn’t care about him or his well being. She cares about what his name can do for her. That’s it. And right now his name is being lumped with Dakota and not hers and I think it’s pissing her off. She needs to get those cheap outfits comped one way or another and her Liberia film isn’t cutting it. Miumiu not calling her back and nobody wants to see her in a solo pap walk….so.

Sorry to all the team asslickers on here but even you have to admit yesterday was a hilarious show your ass moment.

Sidenote: I like to think CE is putting on a bigger effort to look like he likes Dakota because Celine song is directing this film and he wants to do well for her. And also, he seems to simply just like Dakota. She’s pretty hilarious in her own right when she’s not being a flat actress 🤣 and maybe…just maybe, he wants to show you all whose watching that he does know how to act like he’s in love with someone. He just didn’t want to the last time he was in that park.

😉❤️

Yep, she doesn't care about him (and I don't think he cares about her). It's all about using his name to be mentioned in some gossip magazines. Otherwise these magazines wouldn't talk about her. And even the Portuguese magazines have to mention him when they talk about her. The Portuguese people don't care about her. I'm not even sure if they know her name.

[batsplat]

from the stuff i’ve heard marc’s former honda teammates (dani jorge and pol in their media careers but joan also i guess) say about him now that they’re racing is generally quite positive, both on a professional/riding level but also seemingly on a personal level? i’m wondering what you make of that given that, yeah, marc doesn’t seem like a very good teammate (unless you’re alex who i’ve left off this list). like MARC wants to separate on and off track stuff and it seems like all of these guys are willing too at least in retrospect, so he can’t have truly burned bridges with them. do you have any thoughts on that

(x, x) most riders are quite good at not burning bridges with each other! it's not like marc's competitors don't know that this stuff is kinda part of the game. I mean, all of marc's past teammates were also trying to assert themselves within the internal hierarchy... you can say that certain teammates engage in 'worse' behaviour than others, but, like, these people do understand they're supposed to be fighting each other! a baseline degree of nastiness is factored in and will be accepted to a greater or lesser extent by your rivals - especially when it comes to asserting yourself in intra-team power struggles. you might hate the other guy in the moment, but generally speaking once the active part of the rivalry is done with... you will probably get over it. marc's fellow riders are aware of how ultra-competitive marc is - and to a certain point they do respect it, not least because they're aware that this is part of the reason why marc has ended up with all those titles. it's like dani said, right, it's marc's strong suit. and in general, you do have to say that there's relatively few teammate pairings that devolve to the level of toxicity that it completely destroys the interpersonal relationship. you might need some level of preexisting animosity... most of the purely competitive sins can be healed with a little time

on the 'separating on-track and off-track' thing... well. this is kind of a question of how you define these things, you can say that marc generally speaking isn't going to massively hold grudges over isolated on-track incidents or whatever... but he doesn't just leave his fighting to the track, and personally I've also never felt he can entirely separate these things out in his mind. can you really say his professional and private relationships with other riders are completely detached from one another? mostly, he's opted to be pretty disengaged from his fellow riders as a collective, and obviously that's a good way to not take things too personally... it's all part of the game, isn't it? sometimes it's good to go with the straightforward approach: marc tells you he will make your life hell, he does indeed make your life hell, and then you both move on with your lives and can maybe actually have a pretty amiable relationship with him in years to come. he's not really defying your expectations at any point here, is he now? it's still a question for each of them as individuals as to whether they think that kind of behaviour is above board and acceptable or not... but everyone by now knows that marc plays these games, so it's not like they're going in blind

and it's not like other former teammates are constantly badmouthing each other. I mean... look, let's just cut to the chase here and bring in valentino as our reference point (as he is for the sport as a whole, which by the way does also help create a certain baseline of acceptability for marc's antics - maybe goated riders are just supposed to be dicks who knows). vale's premier class teammates were 1) nobody (2000-01), 2) tohru ukawa (2002), 3) nicky hayden (2003; 2011-12), 4) carlos checa (2004), 5) colin edwards (2005-2007), 6) jorge lorenzo (2008-10; 2013-16), 7) maverick vinales (2017-20), 8) franco morbidelli (2021), and 9) andrea dovizioso (2021). of these eight men (let's just exclude 'nobody' for now), do you know how many had serious complaints at any point about valentino as a teammate? that's right, it's one guy. one. some of valentino's other teammates, like hayden, checa and edwards, were even quite actively positive about their whole experience. this is the thing - you do need some specific circumstances for teammate rivalries to escalate from 'being kinda bitchy every other month' to 'actively fantasising about stabbing each other'. not accounting for natural interpersonal animosity, let's list some circumstantial factors that you need to get a bridge-burning-worthy level of feud:

you need a competitive bike. it is possible to beef about development direction when you're in the trenches (cf late 2010's yamaha, 2020's honda)... but generally speaking this is going to be quite low-level petty stuff, not actual war

you also need something that approaches competitiveness between teammates. if one teammate is unquestionably stronger than the other one, then it is very unlikely that you are going to get any open hostilities. the tension comes when the two sides are close enough to each other for the internal hierarchy to actually be a contentious issue (this is also basic self preservation... if you're the far weaker teammate then you do not want to make the situation troublesome, because then you will be the one to be fired)

following on from those first two things... well, it doesn't hurt to have a title fight in the mix. there are also other ways you can generate competitive stakes, like, for instance, if you and your teammate know that one of you will be out of a job soon. basically, it helps to have something to squabble over

it is maybe easy to forget how rare it is this century for teammates to be fighting directly for a title, let alone over the course of multiple seasons. only two 1-2's since the year 2000 and they're both for the factory yamaha's (though 2006, 2011-13 and 2017 did all prominently feature two factory hondas). which means that for valentino, the prerequisites were met just the once in his premier class career... and yes, the results were pretty memorable, but (topic! for! another! post!) it's worth pointing out that even that relationship was pretty much 'fine' whenever there was a sizeable disparity between the two of them performance-wise (2008 and 2013 are the most clear cut examples). I think the way I'd frame it with marc is that he has a bunch of mildly dubious strategies up his sleeve to assert himself within the team, which don't really deviate that far from what you'd expect from a rider of marc's calibre and only need to be escalated under specific circumstances. that doesn't mean he doesn't have the potential to be ruthless, but up until now it's mostly been a fairly 'acceptable' level of ruthlessness on the intra-team level... and not something that is likely to make other riders actually hate him

taking marc's teammates one by one... dani was the closest to meeting the bridge-burning prerequisites, though he was only a title rival in marc's rookie season. and marc did go further with him than he did with anyone else, and dani has made some pointed comments about marc's style as a teammate... but yes, he is fonder of marc these days. partly I'd just emphasise again that this is a fairly natural progression when you've stopped directly competing for long enough, and partly it's also just a question of individual personality - dani's not massively into holding grudges. then there's jorge, who... I mean, they might as well not have been teammates, given that jorge was either too slow or too injured to even be sharing any track space with marc. you have to put that one down primarily to circumstance, seeing as jorge's own track record on the teammate front isn't exactly spotless. marc and jorge beefing in 2019 would have been pretty dumb and also a massive waste of everyone's time in a year in which marc singlehandedly won the team's championship. even those two needed more to get things going

moving on to the dark years, pol and marc had an extremely stop-and-start partnership on a honda that was generally pretty uncompetitive... so the only stuff they could get ever so mildly irritable about were riveting incidents like 'marc saying pol wasn't the biggest championship threat' (neither of them were) or 'pol saying he'd copy marc's set up' (which proved entirely useless). not exactly title decider territory, is it now, and marc very much had pol covered as a challenger throughout their partnership. also, those two do have a longer history! they've known each other since they were kids and hold a pretty significant place in each other's careers. now that pol's more or less retired, it's natural there'll be quite a lot of sentimentality there - which will paper over any small cracks that appeared during those two years. and joan was a one year teammate at a time in which the bike was consistently close to offing them both. they only managed to start a sunday race together as teammates on thirteen occasions. it would take some serious effort to engineer a feud with that little opportunity, and, really, why on earth would you bother. maybe if honda had gone for rinsy rather than joan for the factory seat, it could've been a bit more prickly, but it's unlikely that it would have escalated beyond that

this is the thing, right, the only one of these partnerships that would have been worth burning bridges over was dani, and even there marc pretty much had him handled after the first season. in general, marc has been pretty clear on how he's not interested in making friends with the other side of the garage while the teammate relationship is ongoing... which is fine! there's some prominent-ish teammate pairings that are actually good friends, some teammate pairings where one of them is actively helping out and advising the other one, but some riders prefer to just keep their distance. it would have been a little silly of marc to start a feud with a teammate who is galaxies away from being a competitive threat, let alone a title rival, but generally it is possible to toe the line between 'attempting to suppress your internal rivals enough to stop them from becoming a problem for you' and 'taking radical enough action to make your internal rivals despise you'

especially in the post-dani era, marc never really had any need to push things too far... and, let's face it, how many of your teammate relationships end up with burnt bridges is also quite frankly a question of luck and circumstance. do you want to guess which top rider on paper has the worst track record this century with premier class teammate feuds, in terms of a) how many they've had, and b) how little public reconciliation there has been since the end of the rivalry?

yes, that's right, it's the first name that comes to mind when you're thinking of toxic and conflict-prone riders: andrea dovizioso. that old devil, constantly causing trouble. just couldn't stop undermining his poor, innocent teammates. can somebody please stop this ruthless bully before it's too late

I think you get the point. I would personally suggest that dovi is not in fact the worst teammate it is possible to have in a motogp top team. he just happened to find himself in a situation where he was teammates with two separate guys he did not click with at all, in situations that involved a pairing of riders who were (or had the potential to be) competitive with each other, as well as some proper stakes attached to the rivalry. in general, situational factors are going to determine this stuff more than anything else... and marc more often than not does have a reasonably good feel for picking his battles. he's flirted with the line, but he's mostly avoided crossing it. he hasn't had to

[ifbench]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon

So, here we are. It's been over three years since the last PMD game, and almost 8 since the last one that wasn't a remake. Where does this leave us? Will we ever get another new PMD game? I don't know. Personally? I have hope that the series isn't dead. That one day, we will get another. But I can't say for certain. But even if this is the end…what a legacy PMD has left us with. Five lovely games, each with their own story to tell, their own joys to be had. Sure, some may be better than others, but they all carry the spirit of PMD within them. Rescue Team is a story about finding yourself in a foreign world, of finding home in the unlikeliest of places, of how even when the rest of the world is against you, you'll always have some people who believe in you. Explorers is a story about overcoming impossible odds, of staying true to oneself, of shining bright at world's end, of how if your legacy is still remembered, in a way, you'll still be alive. Adventure Squad is a story of finding joy in the little things, of how even simple acts of kindness can turn around the hearts of a whole village. Gates to Infinity is a story about holding onto hope even in the most desperate circumstances, of friendships that never truly die, of kindness begetting more kindness, of changing the world for the better, one step at a time. Super is a story of learning who you truly are, what makes you yourself, of how negativity is a necessary part of life, of globe-spanning friendships, of entrusted hope, of how you can do amazing things, of how it's ok to need help. Each one has its own, unique take on PMD. Each one has its own themes, its own joys it wants to share. Each one complements the rest, and all together? They make something truly wonderful. While it's possible that PMD might never return, that attatchement we have to it? That love we have for our partners? That joy we have when we remember our favorite moments from it? That will never truly fade. It might be buried, might be forgotten, but it will never truly die. It will always be there, waiting to return. In a way, PMD will never end. Like Special Episode 5 of Explorers teaches us, if our legacy is remembered, then we're still alive, in a way. Our spirit still shines bright, still affecting others. As long as we continue to cherish PMD, it will never die. I'm crying so hard as I type this all. I love PMD. I love it with all my heart. I think a good way to show why PMD will never truly die is to take a look at the fanworks made for it. There are hundreds, if not thousands of fanworks created about PMD. Comics, fanfics, askblogs, and more, all telling their own stories about PMD. All created because of love for PMD. Silver Resistance. Victory Fire. Hands of Creation. Warped Skies. Quenched Torch. Legends Legacy. Shatter. Daily Life in Pokemon Paradise. Flake-N-Rudy. Askanotslownotking. Free Fiction. The Dreamstone. Places We Call Home. Galaxies Above. On Borrowed Time. Fledglings. Liberators of Fate. Sierra 10. Flowerbeds. Irau's Journal. Psychic Sheep. Zero the Hero. Path of Valor. Even those of us who aren't telling full stories, those of us who make fanart, those of us who make fanmusic and remixes, those of us who just gush about PMD. We're all keeping PMD alive. To everyone who has ever made any sort of PMD fanwork, discussed their love for the series, or even just recommended it to a friend. To anyone who has ever helped keep PMD alive. Thank you. Even if we never get a new PMD game, it will never truly die, as long as we continue to cherish it. Thank you all so much.

I have my own PMD fanworks, if anyone wishes to check them out.

Eternal Shadows, a PMD story taking place post-Super, about a human-turned-Oshawott who wishes to return home.

In Tandem, a hybrid PMD and trainerfic, about a PMD Tropius who wishes to become a trainer in the human world.

Then, Then, and Now, a hybrid Rescue Team and Legends Arceus story, of a protagonist who goes through both.

A Comprehensive Guide to Items, a guide to items in the PMD world, and how they work, written in-universe by the Rescue Team partner.

A Way to Reunite, a Gates to Infinity oneshot, about an alternate epilogue if the Worldcore didn't exist.

Day of Heroes, a oneshot celebrating the four main PMD games. The protagonists and partners of each game celebrate a holiday dedicated to them, together.

I also have a variety of PMD askblogs.

@ask-team-searchlights is an askblog for the cast of Eternal Shadows, and @ask-world-savers-council is an askblog for the cast of Day of Heroes. And @adventuresquadharvest is a new askblog I started today, for giving love for Adventure Squad.

If you decide to check out any of these, I hope you enjoy.

I'm also always available to chat about PMD! I have a bunch of headcanons and worldbuilding about the series that I'd love to talk about more! Feel free to either approach me in DMs, ask me on this blog, or contact me on Discord! My username there is ifbench, same as here.

I hope you've all enjoyed my PMD rambles. Thank you for listening.

[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 2 - Comp-Sci▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤The red of his eyes were boring a hole through your back and it almost makes you feel bad.

Almost but not quite, because you’ve already decided he doesn’t deserve your attention after being an ass on both of the occasions you’ve come across him.

That however, still won’t stop him from living rent-free in your little head for a while.◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three

Chapter 2 - Comp-Sci

Alarm’s fucking blaring.

It’s that stupid old default tune that you’ve never bothered to change since you received your phone ages ago. You know there is no need to change it, because the moment it wakes you up enough fucking times, you’ll end up hating it all the same.

Right now, it’s pulling you out of your deep slumber and you find it’s as annoying as you imagine hell would be—unless you’re already in hell, but too delusional to realize it. 

Still, it’s doing its job and you wake up, never needing it to ring more than once before you get outta bed, your chronic insomnia being good for one fucking thing at least.

Fuck, it’s already Monday, you think to yourself, yawning and rubbing the sleep sand out of your eyes while you somehow manage to make it to the bathroom.

Before long, the dampened sound of your shower echoes throughout the apartment, marking the beginning of another late morning.

─────────

As per usual, you find your class to be completely packed by the time you arrive, people filling the usual quiet with generic loud chatter.

You’re late as ever and there’s no way in hell you’re walking through a sea of students, making them all scoot forward so you can pass through and get to the vacant chairs in the middle of the lecture hall. It means that, since you value your short amounts of sleep way too much, you’d always have to settle for the worst seats, the ones all the way in the back.

They aren’t great in terms of being able to properly hear the lectures and actively participate, but that’s more than fine with you. You aren’t planning on doing either of those. You’re way ahead of the material that was currently taught and this professor tends to upload all of his lectures online either way, should you need to brush on the basics.

So you do what you usually do after you sit down in one of your easier classes, pulling out your laptop and booting up a game to farm some more legendary items for your MMO character.

You’re happy to be out of the sight of judgy ambitious young adults, because solitude is where you thrive… or have learned to do so, anyways.

The sky looks pretty dull and gray with the rainy season not wanting to grace you with any Vitamin D around this time of the year, but it’s not like that’s the only chemical imbalance you suffer from anyways. 

You’re about to doze off after staring outside the window next to yourself, once again failing miserably to get the item that you’ve been grinding for days. 

You scoff, about to restart the run, but apparently you’re not the only idiot who’s late finding a seat, because barely ten minutes after you sit your ass down, you hear some douchebag sliding into the spot next to yours. Followed by a sound of what you presume is a bag hitting the ground, and a really loud screeching chair.

What an incredible streak of luck you must be having today, because there are like six other open seats on this row, aside from the one next to you. So what kind of motherfucker would willingly hug the wall with you, a complete stranger? There’s not a single fucking person in this class—or any of your other classes for that matter—that would want to sit next to you. Zero. Nada.

But then you look to your right, and to your horror, the creature speaks—

“Yo, sponger.” He hits you with an unsettling grin from behind really dry lips.

Yep, there’s no doubt about it. You’re definitely in hell.

Of course, Mr. 4:50 AM convenience store zombie is sitting next to you in your computer science class. Of fucking course he goes to the same university as you do.

Because why the fuck wouldn’t he?!

Mentally reaching to pull your hairs out, one of your eyes twitches comically before you begin to ask an incredulous “Why—” but it proves completely impossible to string a coherent sentence right away, so you just close your eyes in an attempt to gather your thoughts. And prayers.

“How did you even recognize me?” 

You try—really, really hard—and fail to tone down the bubbling exasperation in your voice, as the professor finally strolls into the lecture hall. 

The chatter in the room ceases almost immediately.

This professor was one of your stricter ones. It’s not a surprise when he demands everyone’s full attention right away, jumping straight into business before you can continue your conversation.

The mystery asshole—now a classmate too—simply smirks at you, completely ignoring the professor’s entrance.

He leans into you and you feel his warm breath against your ear as he whispers, tone low and challenging:

“I’d recognize an ugly fucking skank like you literally anywhere, idiot,” he says, making sure to verbally underline the insult way longer than it was necessary.

You quite literally cringe at his jab, because him dogging on your appearance is getting old really fast. 

So you lean into him yourself, if not a little more aggressively compared to his own gesture, and proceed to trap him in his own seat, arm reaching around the backrest, deliberately not touching him.

You chuckle to yourself because, who the fuck would, unless he held a gun to their head?

“Look dude,” you begin, your smile turning vicious. You’re so close to his face that you’re practically spitting on it. “I’d hold up a mirror, so you can take a good fucking look at yourself, but you’d probably have to buy that for me too.”

Turns out, you coincidentally don’t give a fuck about the professor either. 

You snort as you pull back, watching his face twist in total confusion, red eyes widening and his hand reaching to draw quick angry lines across his already scarred skin.

There’s not much you can see when he tilts his head back, the messy curtain of white hair covering a lot of his face, but you could swear you just saw a pink tint spreading across his pale face.

Huh.

You’ve actually shut him up for once—

.

.

.

—you’d think, but the setback was seemingly only temporary, because he stops scratching himself, when a cheerful grin splits across his face, and he starts talking to you as if you didn’t almost gouge each other’s eyes out, literal seconds ago.

“If you don’t kill the stupid goblin at the beginning of the stage, the final boss won’t carry your S-Grade,” he casually states, one finger entering your POV and pointing at your screen.

“Huh?” 

You blink. What?

“Tch. Your run, dumbass. You’ve prolly been grinding for hours, only getting it once or twice because you never think to kill the stupid goblin and only ever do it by accident.” He shrugs. “No one ever fuckin’ does, so they don’t find the pattern without looking up a guide.”

You’re extremely confused, getting the feeling he’s fucking messing with you, but you do as he says and restart the stupid dungeon.

Then you kill the fucking goblin this time, feeling really silly for listening to his advice.

It takes you a good twenty minutes to clear it, with him being eerily quiet and you too immersed in the game to care, but the guy is true to his word and the boss actually drops your fucking item this time, god-awful substats aside.

So you repeat the process, noticing some students looking over at the two of you. You glare at them, mentally telling them off. It’s not like you haven’t seen those idiots play fucking candy crush in class before, so they should give you a break.

What bothers you more right now, is the fact that you’ve been trying so fucking hard to get this stupid item, only for this asshole to pop up out of nowhere and make you feel like an idiot for not figuring it out earlier.

“Told you so,” he says oh-so-matter-of-factly, without even a hint of smugness in his tone.

What a fucking weirdo, you think, rolling your eyes, scoffing and crossing your arms the way a five-year-old would.

When you look at him, you notice his smile is still smug, but somehow softer as he stares back at you. 

And it fucking pisses you off. 

He pisses you off.

“No need to get salty. Took me like a week to figure it out by myself and it drove me fucking insane too,” he says, thinking back fondly to all the controllers he managed to break. “And I’m pretty good at these types of tells in games y’know? But the design of this one made no fucking sense. What’s your IGN? I can add you and we can raid together.”

You’re taken aback, the sudden one-eighty of his attitude giving you massive whiplash. 

“Sorry?”

But luckily the bell rings before either of you have to continue the conversation—thank fucking god for that—and you quickly pack your shit before you can give him an opportunity to open his mouth and ask you something stupid again.

He doesn’t move though, remaining seated and stares at you dejectedly as you kick your chair in place, turning around on your heel and leaving him in the dust. The red of his eyes were boring a hole through your back and it almost makes you feel bad.

Almost but not quite, because you’ve already decided he doesn’t deserve your attention after being an ass on both of the occasions you’ve come across him. That however, still won’t stop him from living rent-free in your little head for a while.

─────────

It’s afternoon now, and you decided to grab lunch with your friend Taylor, who finishes their courses around the same time as you do today.

The both of you settle to get something cheap and satisfying, something that won’t break the bank and still gives you your energy for the day.

It’s still drizzling a little bit outside, but the spot you picked was at a picnic table under an umbrella, off-campus where you finally manage to let your shoulders slump and relax for a bit.

It’s the weight of being outside of your apartment that takes a lot out of you, but being with your friend almost creates a barrier from the world itself. You don’t feel as drained around them as you would if you would be on your own.

“—and then he does what? He acts like we’ve been friends for ten years and this is just a cute buddy gaming session, where we exchange walkthrough info sneakily behind the teacher’s back! Did the past two interactions with me get completely wiped from his dumb ass brain?”

You’ve been ranting to Taylor for a little while now, but that’s fine because you’ve always felt like you could be yourself around your friend. They probably love you all the same.

Honestly, with your horrible personality, you aren’t sure you really deserve them as your friend, but despite that and despite your insecurities, they somehow managed to stick to you like gum to a shoe ever since you entered college, never fucking letting you go.

Taylor… is the polar opposite of your entire being. 

Not only are they really good-looking and properly fashionable, but they’re also extremely charismatic, with an incredible amount of IRL connections. There truly aren’t many people who don’t know who they are on campus, and when they’re not hanging out with you, they’re constantly being swarmed by different groups. The ultimate main character that could make anyone feel like a total extra whenever they enter a room.

You cherish them a lot, but you’re probably too emotionally stunted to really tell them how amazing they are as often as you should. That kind of thing only happens when you’re black-out drunk, and you don’t drink very often anymore.

It’s tucked away under the label of ‘feelings you don’t understand’, together with your tendency to push away anything good in the not-so-off-chance it can hurt you down the line.

It’s always been just you, because being on your own is good enough. Being alone is better than hurting.

But being their friend, as much as you’d like to hide it, is the best.

So they fucking had you in an iron grip, claiming you’re the only friend that really matters to them—that everyone is mostly just surface-level friendly and that you never pull punches, something they value a lot, apparently. Popular people must have it really fucking rough, you think, if you’re the alternative solution.

You don’t understand why either, but that’s the common theme with you two. And despite knowing they’d be better off without you, you let yourself be greedy for once, odds be damned.

If it hurts in the end, they’ll be fucking worth it.

“Reeeelax, babe. If he’s anything like you, he’s probably also really trash at speaking to people,” they say, making a point by taking a dig at your character. You have a feeling you won’t like where this is going, as you’re watching them talk between bites and chewing their food, “Words come out all wrong. Sound familiar?”

You sneer at that. 

“Pfft, I’m fucking nothing like him. How dare you compare me to that glorified floor mop.” You roll your eyes and whip your head the other way, feeling just slightly offended. 

Your friend grins, pokes your sides and you’re unable to stay mad for long, frown slipping into a slight smile while they full-on giggle in your face.

“Uh-huh. That’s huuuge coming from the biggest gremlin on the planet. Honey, when’s the last fucking time you willingly got out of your pig-sty? You think you’re better than the other basement-dwelling—wait, what’s it called? Don’t tell me!” they say hurriedly, tapping the table with the tips of their acrylics. “Was it a ‘Reddit’ user? Anyways—Pot meets kettle much?” Taylor scrunches their nose at you endearingly and your jaw drops. “If anything, it’s a match made in heaven, babe. You should take him for a joyride and be thankful for the dick.”

“God, you’re so—!” You rub at your eyes before crossing your arms. “You keep saying that, but can you blame me?! Just look around, dude. Gotta be insane to wanna be around these NPCs all the time, no offense.” Your finger points at no one in particular. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Taylor tilts their head thoughtfully before snorting and sipping on their coke zero. “No, because facts.”

It’s one of the few things you guys agree on. That, and how fucked everything in the world was. Trauma buddies.

“Besides—” You take another bite before you speak, the mouthful making you mumble your words, “I’m not a cum-dumpster who sleeps with every asshole that slides in my DM’s, okay?” You poke your tongue out at them and then snicker, hoping you don’t actually offend them.

Then they kick you in the fucking shin. Hard. 

“Ow, that hurts! What the fuck?” you yell, winning you a few looks from other bystanders.

“Okay, bitch. First of all, puh-lease. Like the ‘ugly skank’ you are,” Taylor underlines obnoxiously, “could ever dream to sell a singular feet pic. If you could, your only customer would probably be Crusty the Stalker in your class. I’d bet even he’s got standards, though.”

Your friend eyes you up and down, winks and you snort before both of you break into laughter.

The rest of your lunch is spent catching up on all the other meaningless things that happened to you guys in the past week.

If you could freeze time, this would be the perfect moment to do it. This moment where you secretly hope they never leave your side.

And they won’t, you think. Not if you can help it.

─────────

The door to your run-down apartment opens with a creak.

You arrive home and your social battery is less than negative digits. It happens every time you’re outside and interact with way too many people.

After you make sure both of the locks are in place, you go ahead and drop the bag by the entrance, kicking your shoes off in the process.

You feel sweaty and grimy, so you decide to go take a shower, leaving a trail of clothing on the way. Clothing which you’ll definitely pick up and wash in the morning. Just like how you’ll totally take out the trash when you leave for college tomorrow.

As you enter the bathroom, you stop in front of the full length mirror that you got from free when your former neighbor moved, and proceed to fucking glare at your naked form.

Your thoughts wander to the two separate individuals who commented on your appearance today, one of them being a total stranger who was trying to get a rise out of you, the other being your best friend who most likely was just poking harmless fun.

The low self-esteem you’re donning like an heirloom however, couldn’t let those petty thoughts go.

You give yourself a little twirl, looking over your breasts and your ass, thighs and back.

The marks, the blemishes, the scars. They’re all there, always and forever, sitting all too fucking pretty on your skin and reminding you of who you really are. It’s one of the reasons you rarely ever look into the mirror anymore, lest you risk breaking it with your fist and have to make a trip to the ER.

“An ugly skank, huh?” You smile sadly, intrusive thoughts of self-harm, suicide and body dysmorphia all creeping up in your mind like a vice.

Usually you’d tell yourself—cope—that you’d look fine if you tried, but that’s the problem. You don’t usually try. 

You don’t try, unless there’s a good reason to parade yourself around, to be their poster child in return for their favor. Never for yourself, though.

It’s funny as it’s sad, letting other people dictate your own fucking feelings. But despite their harsh words getting to you when there’s no one looking, at least neither of them mind talking to you.

That’s more than you can ask of most people.

Would he be interested in you if you tried? 

He seems like the type to fall for the cute, shy girl, the popular beauty or the sexy bombshell—none of which you’d ever like to be.

A mental picture of him watching you as you leave the class briefly flashes in your mind.

“Nope.” Nope. Nope. Nope. You’re absolutely not going to think about that asshole again.

So you turn your shower handle all the way on cold and you step inside anxiously. The freezing temperature will ground and distract you from further ridiculous thoughts that will have you spiraling in a matter of seconds. Besides… he probably fucking hates your guts now.

[sulumuns-dootah]

9.12. Stolas - Snowball fight

    ༺☆༻

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

₊˚⊹.* The Yule festival of Hell *.⊹˚₊

    ༺☆༻

You're mad at Stolas. This was supposed to be a cozy and calm walk through the snowy streets of Abyssos but of course some demons looked at him the wrong way, which led to him picking a fight with them. So now you have a still angry toddler walking trying to catch up to you, still covered in the blood of those demons.

“Hey, I did what I had to!” Stolas calls after you.

“No, you didn't. They only glanced at us for a split second.” you mutter to yourself and disappear behind a corner to catch your breath. Walking fast in this weather isn't exactly easy.

From your not-so-conspicuous hiding place between two buildings, you see Stolas looking around for where you could've gone. The anger is still brewing in you and wants to be released, so you quietly bend down and make few snowballs.

Waiting for the perfect moment when Stolas turns fully away, you emerge from the shadow of the buildings and perfectly hit the back of his head. At least now you're glad you let him teach you how to line up your shot at the shooting range. It makes him stumble a bit with the force and knocks his crown off his head. He looks around to see who dared to hit him, but you use that opportunity to hit his face with two more snowballs.

Both of them land on their target and Stolas is quick to wipe his eyes while shouting profanities and death threats at whoever threw them. When his sight is clear he only now realises it's you who he promised to turn into a blood and bone soup. His face flushed from the snow now gets even redder with surprise, shame and irritation.

“What was that for?!” he shouts, more startled than anything.

“You looked like you needed some cooling down. Do I need to continue?” you walk towards him, tossing your last snowball in you hand into the air and catching it.

“Oh no, now you're on. You've got some temper on you too, you know?” he chuckles and hides behind the closest column to make some ammunition of his own.

The anger present in you body is almost gone. Almost. You quickly run to different column to prepare for the inevitable battle. If there's anything Stolas loves, it's showering someone in projectiles of any kind. And sure enough he does. The next time you glance to his column, you can see a huge amount of smaller balls stacked like a barrier behind him.

Assessing your position, you realise you've picked the wrong column to hide behind and the angle you're at, you can't hit Stolas at all. You look over and see a column with much better angle only a short distance away. Surely, if you ran fast he won't be able to hit you, right?

You prepare and dash to your new spot. Stolas only manages to hit your ankle twice and you can hear him laughing. The good thing is, that your column has a huge pile of snow next to it, which presumably fell of the roof of the building. If you sneek around it, you'll be able to sneak up on Stolas and slam the huge ball of snow, you've accumulated from the snow around you, right on his head.

Stolas stops laughing and listens for your movement so he can get back at you for giving him facefull of snow. You've gone deadly silent, but he knows you're there and just trying to not give away your position. The only sound he's able to pick up are his slightly heavier breaths and the distant sound of loud music in a club.

You're so close to Stolas and he has no idea. You can clearly see him put his armed hand down and just stand there, trying to lecate you. The ball of snow is heavy when you quietly lift it up over your head to enact your finishing move and slowly move towards him.

When you're only a few steps away Stolas swiftly turns around and tackles you to the ground, making the snow fall from your hands and fall apart on impact with the concrete below. It was such a fast movement, that you didn't even comprehend what was happening until you found yourself pinned underneath Stolas.

“Would you look at that. Looks like we both could use some warming up, huh?”

    ༺☆༻

But wait, this demon also has a gift for you!

"One day I'll be the king of Abyssos, so hold onto this thing okay? You'll need it."

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hi, could I get a male matchup please :)? Preferably for the fandoms of Marvel and Supernatural🫶🏼

I’m 20 years old, she/her pronouns and bi curious with a tendency for men.

For physical attributes: I’m 5’0, tan olive skin, with long black hair and dark brown eyes. Erhnicity is Turkish if it helps :) I also have some freckles over my cheeks and nose. I’m pretty small sized but you can tell that I work out.

I’m very outgoing and I love meeting new people. In the beginning I have a barricade around me but I’m still very warm and welcoming and open, just a little careful with a rougher exterior. Once you get to know me that drops and I show all my love and honesty. My personality type is an ENTJ. I can get really possessive over the people I love and I’m never scared of defending them.

For fun I like to do professional wrestling, painting landscapes, walking my dog, reading, occasionally writing and occasional mediocre horse riding lol.

Thank you so much in advance!

Hi! I'm sorry this got out so late!

I hope you love your matchups nonetheless!

Romantic Matchups; Marvel and Supernatural

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

Marvel;

Bucky Barnes -

You met Bucky at a local small park in New York City when you were walking your dog.

Suddenly, as you were playing fetch with your pup, they just started running.

You freaked out, chasing after your dog, calling their name, but they were heading straight towards a... White cat on a leash, being walked by a very handsome guy.

Your dog stops at the cat, bouncing excitedly on its furry legs, seemingly wanting to play with the cat who doesn't seem to even care.

"Sorry about them." You began, a bit out of breath, "I hope I didn't scare your cat."

Bucky was intrigued - not only by you but also by the fact that Alpine was padding closer to your dog; curious.

At first, Bucky is reserved, trying to gauge if you’re genuine or just another fleeting stranger. But your warm demeanor and subtle cautiousness resonate with him. He knows what it’s like to keep people at arm’s length.

It seemed like Alpine and your dog really liked each other and you both agreed to exchange numbers to set up another meeting for the two furballs to meet and play again.

You and Bucky meet up at the park with your pets, allowing them to get to know each other and play, all while you and Bucky get to know each other as well.

When you say that you like to professionally wrestle, Bucky challenges you.

He doesn't expect to be the one to be pinned on the mat at the nearby gym.

He’s both impressed and slightly embarrassed.

Late-night hangouts consist of you showing him how to paint landscapes. He’s shockingly good at it once he loosens up, and you start exchanging art pieces as gifts.

Maybe being such life-long friends with Steve had rubbed off some art skills on him...

Once he trusts you, he confides in you about his past during one of your quieter evenings, and the way you listen without judgment solidifies the bond between you.

Bucky realizes he has feelings for you when he notices how possessive you are about your friends. The way you fiercely defend the people you love strikes a chord in his protective nature.

Your ability to see beauty in the little things makes him want to notice those things too - starting with you.

You catch feelings for Bucky when he brings Alpine to your place one day. Seeing this stoic man doting over a cat and quietly grinning as you interact with her makes your heart skip.

The tension between you builds slowly, with lingering looks and moments where your hands brush. Neither of you acknowledges it outright at first, but the chemistry is there and is undeniable.

Bucky kisses you for the first time after you paint a mini portrait of Alpine for him. He’s so moved by the thoughtfulness that he just leans in.

It’s soft, and a little tentative, but leaves you both smiling like idiots.

He helps you with your wrestling practice, standing in as your sparring partner when you need one. It becomes a fun (and very flirty) competition.

Bucky loves cuddling. When he’s had a rough day, he’ll quietly lay his head on your lap while you read to him. Your fingers in his hair are his safe haven.

Movie nights become a staple. Bucky picks old classics to share with you, and you introduce him to all your favorite modern films. He critiques the choreography, much to your amusement.

Bucky would always walk you home or pick you up after late wrestling practices, insisting it’s for your safety. Though, he knows that you can take care of yourself, he still worries, since a lot of people still don't like or trust him since he was The Winter Soldier and all.

If anyone disrespects you, his Winter Soldier glare makes an appearance, sending shivers down spines. You don’t need him to fight your battles, but it’s nice to know he’s got your back.

He secretly commissions a custom saddle for your horse riding lessons as a surprise gift.

You write little notes of encouragement and slip them into his jacket pockets. He finds them at random and keeps every single one.

~~~

Supernatural;

Sam Winchester -

You first met Sam in a diner during one of his hunts with his brother. You were there after a long day of horseback riding, and he noticed that you were having trouble carrying both your plate of food, phone, and a book.

He steps in to help, and the two of you strike up a conversation. You joke about his enormous salad order compared to your pile of fries, and it earns a rare laugh from him.

Sam initially thinks you’re just a friendly local, but when you casually drop some trivia about supernatural lore, he’s intrigued.

When you end up helping him on the case, he’s impressed by your courage and intellect.

You start trading books after finding out about each other’s love for reading. Sam introduces you to ancient lore, and you hand him your favorite modern novels.

He loves taking your dog for walks with you. He’s a natural with animals, and you love seeing him smile when your dog does something goofy.

Sam appreciates your protective nature. When someone rudely interrupts one of your conversations, you calmly but firmly put them in their place. He quietly admires your fire.

You teach him how to paint. He’s terrible at it but tries his best just to spend time with you.

Sam realizes his feelings when you stay up late to patch him up after a hunt. Your gentle care and concern make his chest ache in the best way.

You start to fall for Sam when you see his kindness in action. Whether it’s helping someone on a case or just listening to your worries, his compassion feels endless.

The way he looks at you when you talk about your passions - eyes soft, a small smile tugging at his lips - makes it obvious he’s smitten.

The feelings become undeniable during a quiet moment at the bunker. You’re both reading in the library, and the way his hand lingers over yours when passing a book sends shivers through you.

The first kiss happens in the bunker’s library after a late-night conversation about life and loss. It’s tender and unhurried, Sam’s hands cradling your face like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Sam loves cuddling. He’s the big spoon, wrapping his arms around you protectively. You feel like nothing could hurt you when he’s holding you.

And you love to cuddle him right back.

Sam takes an active interest in your hobbies, even attempting horse riding despite his awkwardness. He’ll do anything to make you smile.

If you’re stressed, he’ll find a peaceful spot in nature to take you for a long walk.

He secretly writes in his journal about how much you mean to him. It’s his way of processing emotions he can’t always vocalize.

You always make sure he takes care of himself, whether it’s forcing him to eat after a long hunt or sneaking in moments of rest.

When he’s overwhelmed, you remind him of all the good he’s done and how much he’s loved.

And don't worry, even though almost all of Sam's previous partners died horrifically, you never did :)

~~~

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 3- Past Teases Winner

This one actually caught me off-guard! I never expected it to win, but I'm super excited to dive into it now. Heist movies are my guilty pleasures so I can't wait to start a heist AU.

Oakenshield's Fourteen

Rating: T

Warning(s): N/A

Ship: Bagginshield

Summary: After being framed and imprisoned for embezzlement, Thorin is out for revenge. He's going to need a crew if he's going to pull off this heist though, and he's not so sure about Gandalf's fourteenth man.

Thorin hunched his shoulders against the rain, wishing he had thought to grab a proper rain jacket as he ducked inside the bar. He froze at the two off-duty cops sitting at the nearest booth having a beer before continuing on to the back. It was relatively light traffic since it was a Tuesday night which meant Thorin had a waitress within seconds of sitting down. He ordered a beer and some stew, slouching in his seat as he waited for his friend to keep their appointment. 

Thorin’s food and drink came and the cops paid for their drinks and left before the seat across from him was filled. Thorin barely looked up from his stew.

“Took you long enough.” 

“Outside city limits and drinking, Thorin? I do believe you are in violation of your parole.”

Thorin finally glared up at the older man. “A little louder please. Maybe those cops will hear you and come back.”

Gandalf chuckled as he set his grey umbrella aside. 

“Freedom is a good look for you.” He smiled.

Thorin’s hair was still long, his beard full, and he was far thinner than he had been when he first went to prison. He hardly recognized himself from the CEO in the power suit he was just a mere five years ago. However, he vowed not to do anything to change his appearance back until some wrongs had been righted. 

“I suppose I have you to thank for the early release?” 

“And yourself, for such good behavior that it made it easy to file. Now what urgent matter has called me away from The Shire Baking Championship.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about a television series. I’m putting together a team to take on a little…job I have in mind.”

The waitress returned, taking Gandalf’s order which was the same as Thorin’s. 

“Why do I fear the legality of this little project of yours?” Gandalf mused, raising an eyebrow as he lit a cigarette. 

Thorin looked around to make sure no one was listening, but leaned in closer anyways.

“Smaug framed me for embezzlement, stole my grandfather’s company out from under me, and has now turned Erebor into a fucking hotel casino. I’m out for blood, Gandalf. If things go according to plan, I will have the Arkenstone and it’ll be Smaug who ends up behind bars.”

Gandalf took a long inhale before blowing the smoke out off to the side. The waitress returned to which Gandalf thanked her, but remained silent on the subject. Thorin let him ruminate on his words as he drank and ate, savoring his first real meal outside of prison. When Gandalf finally spoke, it was not what Thorin had been expecting, but still pulled a smirk to his face.

“You’re going to need a crew. Decent size, discreet, and perhaps as mad as you are.”

“I’ve already been in touch with Balin and Dwalin.” Thorin explained. “They think we can get Gloin and Oin as well. Then there’s my cellmate, Nori, and his two brothers.”

“What about your nephews?” Gandalf asked. “They’re old enough now.”

“Dis would kill me if I even thought to ask.” Thorin scoffed. “We’re not exactly on speaking terms at the moment.”

“I do have a client named Bifur who might be willing to join. He suffered an accident in the remodel of Erebor. Still burdened under medical bills and harassment by Smaug’s lawyers for workmans’ comp.”

“Any enemy of Smaug is a friend of mine.” Thorin shrugged.

“You’re going to need someone with light feet and quick fingers to get a hold of the Arkenstone.”

“That’s why Nori…”

“No.” Gandalf interrupted, his eyes gleaming in interest. “I have someone else in mind. A burglar extraordinaire you might say.”

“Is he trustworthy?” Thorin asked apprehensively.

“Quite.” Gandalf nodded. “He has his quirks, mind you, but I think he will be the key to our success.”

Thorin tried not to get his hopes up as he finished the last of his beer and stared into the empty cup. He’s thought of nothing other than his revenge since that first moment he was led away in cuffs. He wasn’t about to let anything stand in the way of that. He threw some money down on the table before bidding Gandalf goodbye and promising to stay in touch. He had work to do before they met next.

***

Bilbo sighed as he finished the last page of his book, carefully placing it back into the satchel hanging from his hip. He had rather hoped that would see him all the way back to the Shire. Still five stops away, Bilbo dug out his phone from his pocket. No texts to answer, nothing exciting on social media, and he would rather die than download one of those mind numbing games. He heaved another sigh as his eyes flickered out the window of the train to watch the city of Bree give way to the rolling green hills where he was born. 

He pulled his attention from the scenery to observe his fellow passengers. All of them had their noses pointed down either at a book or at a screen. Bilbo couldn’t exactly blame them having done so himself. Yet, he couldn’t stop his attention from drifting to a wallet peeking out of a pant pocket or a purse sitting just far enough away from its owner. He immediately shook himself out of such thoughts. That life was behind him. He was honest now. He had a good job in Bree that paid…decently. He lived in a comfortable home he inherited from his parents. He didn’t have to pickpocket. 

Not that he ever pickpocketed because he had to.

Bilbo groaned as he laid his head back and closed his eyes. Sometimes he just wished he were…normal. They arrived at the next stop and as the cars were slowing, there was a small jolt that knocked an elderly gentleman who was getting up to leave into him just slightly. 

“Terribly sorry about that.” He smiled.

“No problem.” Bilbo grinned in return. 

The man watched him for a second longer making Bilbo’s brows furrow slightly before he exited the train. That was odd. Paranoia had Bilbo checking his pocket, sighing in relief when he found his wallet still with him. However, there was something else. With a confused expression, Bilbo pulled out a business card.

Gandalf Grey, Attorney-at-Law

Bilbo flipped it over, and immediately felt the blood freeze in his veins. He searched the platform outside the window for some sign of the man, but they were pulling away too quickly now for him to make out any distinct features. Bilbo shoved the card back into his pocket as his leg started bouncing. He stared at the rest of the passengers as discreetly as he could. Did anyone else notice? Did they know what he was? Slowly he pulled the card back out, reading over it once more just to make sure.

Some habits can never be broken. Especially not for Belladonna Took’s son. Job offer at the Green Dragon. 

Bilbo couldn’t stand it. Rather than waiting for Hobbiton, he got off at the next stop. He would walk home. The fresh air could only do him good. And it certainly had nothing to do with being closer to the Green Dragon. He absolutely would not go. This could all be a setup to pin him for a crime in his adolescence for all he knew. Why else would a lawyer be trying to get in contact with him? Nope, it was out of the question. Even if Bilbo was curious how he knew his mother, he was absolutely not going!

Bilbo pushed open the door to the Green Dragon with a sigh. His eyes scanned the darkened room wondering if the man, Gandalf, was even here yet when he heard his name called out. Towards the back of the room was the elderly man in a gray suit. He seemed to be in the middle of a smoke, but waved Bilbo over enthusiastically. Bilbo forced his feet to propel him forward, falling stiffly into the seat across from him.

“Good evening.” Bilbo greeted woodenly.

“What do you mean?” Gandalf demanded, cocking his head to the side. "Do you wish me a good evening, or mean that it is a good evening whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this particular evening; or that it is an evening to be good on?"

Bilbo found himself even more dumbfounded. “All of them at once I suppose.”

The man chuckled as he took another puff from his smoke. 

“How exactly did you know who I am?” Bilbo demanded, curiosity overwhelming him.

“I was very good friends with your mother and your grandfather before her. Exceptional burglars, and it seems that you are of the same skillset.” 

“What? No. No, no.” Bilbo denied, lowering his voice only after he caught the attention of the patron across the way. “I am not a burglar…I may have been a pickpocket at one point in my life, but that is behind me. So whatever it is that you think I would be perfect for, I have come to turn you down cold. There will be no jobs for me, thank you. Not today or any day. Good evening.”

Bilbo moved to stand up and Gandalf latched onto his sleeve before he could get away.

“Don’t be so hasty Bilbo. At least hear me out. If you take this job, it’ll be you everyone thinks of when they hear the name Took. Not your mother, and certainly not your grandfather.”

Bilbo gave him a half-smirk as he pulled away. 

“That’s entirely the problem. I’m not a Took. I’m a Baggins.”

With that, Bilbo left the establishment without even a backwards glance to the lawyer. He at least had some answers. He didn’t need to know the rest. As he had said, that life was behind him. For the next couple of days, Bilbo went through his normal routine. He made sure to keep his head down on his commutes, not daring to attract more attention. Every once in a while when he was home and the silence smothered him like his great-grandmother’s quilt, he would pull out Gandalf’s card, flipping it between his fingers. In the end, he always decided against calling. He was better off ripping it up and forgetting the interaction entirely. But he never did. 

The prospect of what that job would have entailed called out to him like a siren. Tempting him to the mystery. After all, his mother and grandfather had been very good at…what they did. He rather wished he had at least waited a little longer. However, it was past him now. He was better off moving on and focusing on his admittedly boring office job.

He was in the middle of making dinner when there was a ring at his doorbell. Bilbo frowned, staring out towards the door. He hardly ever got visitors, and certainly not this late. He was tempted to just ignore it, when they rang again.

“Yes, alright! I’m coming.” He grumbled.

Bilbo pulled the door open only to gape in disbelief. 

“You!” He accused. “How did you find out where I lived?”

“I’m quite resourceful.” Gandalf grinned, his eyes twinkling in the porch light. “Might we come in?”

“W-we?” 

“We.” Another voice confirmed.

From behind Gandalf emerged perhaps the most handsome man Bilbo had ever met in his life. Beautiful, thick dark curls. Strong physique, sharp jaw, and perhaps the most gorgeous blue eyes Bilbo had ever seen in his eyes if only they weren’t hidden under a look of contempt.

“Bilbo, allow me to introduce the leader of our little company, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Bilbo knew that name. How did he know that name? 

“So Burglar,” Thorin purred. “Are you going to keep us waiting out here or will you invite us in?”

Bilbo found himself stepping aside quite before his mind had worked out what he wanted to do on the subject. Thorin wasted no time in entering the home with Gandalf right behind him. Bilbo had thought that was it when another man popped up behind him, and another, and another, and before Bilbo quite realized what had happened, there were twelve others cramming their way into his dining room. He stood there, mouth agape, door still open as his mind boggled to process what had just happened.

“Don’t just stand there, my boy.” Gandalf ordered. “The faster you get us fed, the faster we can get on with the details of this little meeting.”

Bilbo felt his brows pull at being ordered about so when Gandalf’s words finally dawned on him. 

“Meeting? What meeting?!”

[thelistingteammiami]

Getting Cold Feet? Here's How You Can Prevent Seller’s Remorse

Buyer’s remorse (the feeling of regret after making a huge purchase) is a common sentiment that a lot of people understand and sympathize with, given that the average person makes huge purchases more often than he/she gets to sell anything of substantial value.

This is why the seller counterpart of this feeling is quite unheard of, because it isn’t something that happens very often. In fact, home sellers almost never anticipate it. They simply end up with a bad case of “seller’s remorse” simply because they have never experienced a similar kind of regret prior to selling their home.

A house is one of the biggest and most monumental purchases a person makes in his/her lifetime. Selling a house for the first time is an emotional experience, especially for those who have spent a large part of their lives calling it “home.” Sometimes it’s just cold feet (which is perfectly normal), in which case it is better to proceed with the sale as long as the timing and logistics of the transition have already been settled. However, some end up having valid concerns about the sale, which often happens when contracts have been signed and it’s already too late.

To make sure that you don’t face these feelings of regret, it is important to first examine the reasons that cause seller’s remorse. From there, you can follow a plan to prevent it from popping up when it’s too late.

Here are the common questions most sellers ask once they start to experience seller’s remorse:

1. Did I price my house right?

After the sale of their previous home, sellers may have second thoughts regarding the amount they sold it for. Some feel that they may have accepted an offer that was too low, especially if they did not get to entertain other offers.

How to prevent being in this situation: There is a fair amount of strategy that goes into pricing a home, and you want to make sure to find the perfect balance between the important factors that determine housing prices.

To set the right price that will get your house some steady action, it is crucial to seek the help of an experienced agent and a professional appraiser. While it is ultimately up to you to set the final asking price, you still have to make this decision within a suitable price range based on comparable sales or “comps” and several other assessments. Don’t rely on your “guesstimate” and don’t let your personal attachment to your home determine its selling price. Overpricing your home will only cause it to sit in the market for longer than is ideal (which would drive down its value), so it is very important that you get the price right before deciding to officially put it on the market.

When you think you’ve arrived at the correct price, list your house for sale but wait until you can choose among several offers before accepting one. This way, you won’t have to regret settling for the first offer that came along.

2. Was it really the right time to sell?

It’s not unusual for sellers to make an impulsive decision to sell their homes just because the current market promises good returns. Some people also decide to sell as a way of getting out of debt, but realize in the end that there could have been other ways to raise the money without having to give up their homes.

How to prevent being in this situation: Have a solid and acceptable reason for selling your home, and make sure that you’re ready to accept the implications of the sale. If you’re selling the house for financial reasons, make sure you have accepted the need to downsize. It would also help to ask yourself if selling your home really is the only way you can raise the money you need. This way, you won’t feel guilty about it in the end.

The market may be looking good at the moment, but don’t let this be the sole indicator of your desire to sell. When in doubt, hold off for a while and make the necessary assessments first.

3. Will I be able to find a home that appeals to me as much as the one I just sold?

Sellers who have loved their previous home so much often worry if they’ll ever find a worthy replacement.

How to prevent being in this situation: It’s normal to feel an attachment to the home you’re selling, but if you’re worried that you won’t find a house you’ll love just as much—don’t panic.

A logical solution to this is to sell on a contingent contract, which means that you--the seller--will be given a period of time to find a replacement home without being obligated to close escrow with the buyer in the event that you don’t find one.

It’s all about communicating with your agent about what you need, and finding a way to sell your home without experiencing unnecessary setbacks. It is your listing agent’s job to understand your unique situation and come up with a plan to make the the selling process as seamless as possible.

A note to sellers:

The bittersweet feeling of parting with your home is often inevitable, but a bad case of seller’s remorse is something you can avoid with careful planning. Just remember to hire an agent you can trust, and to be 100% sure of your decision to sell. The anxiety brought by having to sell a home you’ve loved for a long time will eventually be eased by having a positive outlook as you transition into this new phase in your life.

[honeyed-and-mumbled-hymns]

"art isn't art until someone says it is." "IT'S ART!" - Mona Lisa Smile, 2003

This is my first little post on here so, take it easy on me. please.

A couple months ago I was watching Mona Lisa Smile (I'm an educator and got bit by the School Film Bug and this is one of my favorites) when I suddenly thought, "Gosh, I wish someone would have added in a little gay sub plot."

And it hit me. Maybe someone did!

I cannot be the only person on this earth that looked at Betty and Giselle and went, "yea, that would make a KILLER enemies to lover story!"

And, dear reader, I was not alone!

I logged onto AO3 and BAM! There it was... well there were only 6 but there they were! Real, written and (as far as I am aware) completed works on my favorite little pairing in my favorite little teacher film.

And I read them all in one sitting. I have no self restraint.

And I told my partner, "You know what, I will make a tumblr and I will review these 6 fics as my first real post!" That was months ago and today felt like a good day to make that happen!

Disclaimer to all: I am not someone who considers themself a "great writer/reviewer" but I will say that I enjoy consuming media, especially movies. And I enjoy thinking about how to make things gayer SOOooo, here we are!

Let's do this thing!

I do not want to rank these as I review. I did at first but in doing so I felt like I was doing these all a disservice? It would feel like I was pitting them against one another and these is so little wlw things in media that to rate fanfic against one another feels... bad? haha so here we go.

!!SPOILERS FOR THESE FICS UP AHEAD!! (you've been warned)

In order of links as they pop up in the search:

#1 - Future Homemakers of America (100 Words)

This fic is 100 words and it BROKE me yall... I was devastated by the last little paragraph. I mean even the summary kills me. I did think a lot about the movie, The Hours, when reading this for some reason... (I know the reason, I'm just going to get sad and will not elaborate ha!) Overall, great for 100 words!

#2 - Not All Who Wander Are Aimless (3,478 Words)

This is 7 chapters of Betty coming to terms with who she is and it is done... SO artfully! I love reading about her being imperfect and trying to change despite how her mother raised her. Powerful and beautiful! This one has spicy scenes, nothing too smutty if I remember correctly! The comp het is also so real ah. The way it is written/formatted, is also very well done. It feels more like you're reading a poem than a fic and I really enjoyed that. The voice in it draws you in, ah!

#3 - The Spark of Enduring Flame (2,584 Words)

Oh this one is a little steamy, haha. I enjoyed this one more for the setting and pace of it all! Having them get cold during a snow storm is a classic little rom-com moment and I was all here for it! The smut is small but it is there and it is gentle. Also, the opening line and then the candles being done after their night, p o e t r y.

#4 - Repentance (1,065 words)

A very different twist here. Betty taking on Spencer in court is just what I needed after those credits rolled! No relationship for Betty and Giselle BUT we do have Giselle getting a partner and still being a steady friend for Betty, and that's still solid! The mention of Amanda Armstrong (first but not last in our list of fics) was exciting and then got real sad. Having Betty go to apologize at her grave for what she did to her feels like a good step for Betty.

#5 - The Girls in No. 8 (3,377 Words)

OKAY, this one charmed me so much haha. The author has a series where they are telling stories in this apartment building and (if I remember correctly) have some OCs they add in. In this one, Betty and Giselle move in across this apartment of Nurses and they all think the two girls are dating. Anyways, Amanda Armstrong shows up at one point and it just ties everything together in a way I never expected?! I was so charmed and pleasantly surprised by the setting and the back and forth between the apartments. A genuinely fun read! (Also, the author has another smaller fic about Miranda Priestly from The Devil Wears Prada, being the lady that hires Angel, from RENT, to play until the dog jumps and that was silly and a crossover I didn't expect but made sense aha!)

#6 - Calico Girl (5,401 Words)

This one threw me a bit, I wont lie, but it led to a whole new ship for me haha. The premise is really interesting and follows Giselle getting a crush on an OC the author made. Now, this I will admit is my own bias, but if I was putting an OC into a fic, I would have her fall in love with the character I had picked from the show. I was a bit thrown when all the build up between Giselle and the OC ended sour. The build up of community and realization is still really good and worth the read because then we get Giselle and Connie?! And, honestly, I'm upset I didn't consider it until I read this one... cuz now, like what if I find more fics under that pair?! ah, it is still gorgeously written and broken up into small sections that keep drawing you in. So worth the read. Also, the kiss Connie gets is the best ha!

AND THAT DOES IT, I think...

I really just wanted to share some thoughts. And I did, so I'm done? I might do this again if I find another pair with less then 10 fics to their name haha.

Please give the movie a watch if you haven't seen it! It really is one of my favorite teacher movies. I watch it at least once a year and can't get enough of it. The soundtrack is also so good! Tori Amos is on it, iconic.

Anyways, thanks for reading this, if you read the fics, let me know what you think!

[two-reflections]

Writing Audit ✨

...I ended up signing up for the Salamanders Discord writing comp again. Idk why I did this to myself when I'm trying to finish my summer exchange project, but it's max 1500 words per story so I can probably do it in one night if I have to. The goal is for each competitor to create a short anthology of 4 stories in around 4 weeks. Our wider setting is a sector in the far western regions of Ultima Segmentum which is undergoing Ork and Chaos incursions and eventually gets crusaded by the Imperium. I've chosen a feral jungle world as my focus.

I already have ideas for the first story involving DAOT Archaeotech, feral Orks in limestone karst caves, and a Thousand Sons-affiliated exploratory force made up of non-marine sorcerors seeking out psychoactive plants for a particular Exalted Sorceror back on Sortiarius. (IYKYK) I'm planning for some background necron action too... But very much "blink and you'll miss it" for now.

I'll mainly be going for worldbuilding, focusing on how the planet changed over time. My hope is to bring the Salamanders in later once we hit the Crusade part of the story.

At least I can talk about this comp here, unlike my summer exchange work! Those ones are coming along bit by bit. I'm still a bit worried whether I'll manage to finish them, but since I pivoted to writing two pieces instead of one, it seems much more likely now. I know that sounds weird, but it'll make sense later.

List of my current projects under the Read More.

Summer Exchange Fic 1 - >500 words with no max, MUST be complete by August 11. Currently just over 500, expecting it to end up around 1500 words. Contains smut.

Salamanders Writing Comp - Part 1/4 due on August 8. 1500>[story]>800 words.

Summer Exchange Fic 2 - same rules and recip but expecting it to be around 10k words. Posting as a treat so I can upload unfinished chapters after the fact. Does not contain smut but IMO is the better story.

Salamander Slice of Life/Romance - been looking at this again, finally. I've been linking sections, hard but fun work. Need to add proper chapter divisions though, because certain sections are like 10k+ words long.

[Freelance project I'm considering picking up.] - Good for money, but would slow down all my other writing. Need to decide tonight, will probably start on this after August 15th

Of Steel and Flesh - Next chapter needs a lot of work, as most of them do considering they were written in Jan-Feb. I'd like to upload a chapter in August. It probably won't happen until much later in the month.

Adathan and Julen Sequel - Blood Angel/Imperial Fist Deathwatch smut. I did start writing this but I'm feeling a bit uninspired when it comes to smut at the moment. Need the right mood to hit me.

Techmarine university story - haven't worked in this in ages. Definitely on the back burner until after the exchange deadline, possibly until after the Salamanders comp too.

MMM August fic - this one's going to have to wait a few weeks, I'm absolutely swamped in other stuff.

Noise Marine This Is Spinal Tap parody - Look, it was a great idea, but I don't think I'm going to get this treat done before the exchange. So I'm posting it here. Please steal my idea, there is such a great prompt for it on the exchange.

[j00stkl31n]

https://www.tumblr.com/j00stkl31n/757323542803202048/fuck-now-that-i-know-one-of-you-is-into-spencer-my?source=share

yesss hi I'm that anon :3 can i be 🍞/bread anon for convenience? i would love to share some spence daydreaming scenarios/concepts, but I'm still developing them 🤭🥲

I'm watching a lot of smosh vids with spencer, mainly gaming ones, and he has some delicious moments 🥵🥵 usually it's something with his voice or his mannerisms-- i feel so weird sometimes that i need rewind some part of the video just to observe him do something hot, but having a crush will do that to ya 🤷‍♀️

Fuck yeah you can be bread!!!!!🍞

You’re all good! Take your time coming up with those scenarios to make them the best 😈💖

I feel like Amanda a lot honestly cuz like I’m not into into Spencer? But he does hot things and it makes my brain take a step back X3

Like ay wow why are you hot rn dude? Kinda thoughts lololol

And gods yeah I do the same shit //especially with Damien 🫣//

Okay fuck now I gotta talk about that one video Damien’s in where they’re trying to make the best asmr for Amanda in a part of the game (? I can’t remember exactly what video off the top of my head actually) and he’s holding a fucking hanger and says something like “I can’t believe we’ve known each other for this long and haven’t kissed. Alright then let’s kiss for the first time” and it’s so fucking like bassy and chest voice and aaaAAAAH

Okay if I’m gonna talk about hot moments- Shayne as dio/?/ from jojos for Damien’s funeral?! I’ve always like known Shayne’s hot but he’s always been big brother vibes the entire time I’ve watched smosh, so seeing him in that outfit and nails?! Good goooooodddddds dude wtf?!!!

Also as a massive woman enjoyer- COURTNEY MY LOVE HOLY SHIT SHES SO HOT IN EVERY FUCKING VIDEO!!!!!!!!!! The recent darts video?! Fuck meeeeee bro!!! Ugh gods Arasha tooooooo 🫣🫣🫣

Ian and Anthony stop hiring hot people challenge when 😤

I was watching a comp of Spencer moments last night and I’ll say there’s one clip in there I don’t know the og video but everything about him is so hot?! It’s when he had like kinda long hair and wasn’t wearing his glasses as often ugh. Love me a fem man X3

I may not be like suuuuuuper into him attraction wise //yet lmao// but he’s so fucking funny I watch comps of him all the time 😭

The gentlemen shit? My fucking favorite.

If it wasn’t so funny to me I’d find it more hot lmao.

Okay I have realized you’ve triggered my trap card, I go the fuck off about smosh any fucking time of day. I’m literally only up cuz I had to go to the bathroom. It’s 7am on an off day 😤 but nah talking about smosh, that’s better than sleep X3