#that persists regardless of material destruction

[creative-classpect]

Prince of Life

The Prince of Life One who destroys life and growth, often with life and growth itself. A plague.

“You are alone, child.There is only darkness for you, and only death for your people. These ancients are just the beginning. I will command a great and terrible army, and we will sail to a billion worlds. We will sail until every light has been extinguished. You are strong, child, but I am beyond strength. I am the end, and I have come for you, Finn.”

Prince- destroy their aspect and destroy with it. They are incredibly active and a bit unstable due to their destructive nature. 

Life- major themes of life force, opportunity, growth, and luxury. Minor themes of options and optimism.

Abilities

Finality

The Prince of Life destroys life. They are a force of rot and decay. The turning of the seasons, the guiding hand of entropy, the unshakeable fact that everything that lives must die. The

At lower levels of the game the Prince of Life is simply good at killing, using nothing short of fully lethal methods. This can be anywhere from maximum efficiency like John Wick to insane overkill like say, Lobo. However they chose to go about their work they are skilled at it. No matter the tool, no matter the time, no matter their stamina, they are always ready to kill. This may manifest as extreme paranoia or a severely edgy personality. 

As the Prince of Life develops their ability to kill has begun to blossom, extending well beyond the point of death and into the decay, the rot, the decomposition. The Prince of Life has tapped into a well of necrotic energy and all the things that come with it. They may begin to unleash necrosis with each strike of their weapon, blast deadly radiation across the battlefield, take control over decomposers like insects, and even decay inorganic material, causing metals and stone to wither and corrode away.

By medium levels the Prince is no longer wielding death, they have become it. The destructive output of the Prince would multiply, becoming increasingly deadly. The faintest touch would be enough to cause any object, living or dead, to rapidly begin to decay, age, wither, rot, and die. While this effect is potent with touch, it could be spread over a massive area, unleashing clouds of thick miasma to wear down the stamina and will to persist of all creatures within their range. When the Prince destroys something it is next to impossible to heal or recover, all remaining potential drained out of it entirely. The only chance is to prevent the inevitable before the Prince brought finality.

At higher levels the Prince of Life is more than a simple force of death and destruction, they are unto the grim reaper itself. While others may struggle tirelessly against the wheel of time, the Prince is assured, unstoppable. They are the end, plucking the death that lives within all things, and allowing it to bloom. There is no need for haste, no need for worry, when the Prince arrives it is simply the end before they even need to raise their weapon. Fate itself is exhausted and all potential realities and timelines begin to collapse on the certainty of their doom.

A fully realized Prince of Life may even be able to kill other godtiers, regardless of it is heroic or just.

Biophage

The Prince of Life is able to destroy with life, harnessing the infinite potential of nature in the same way one may view an armory. Biological warfare in the most literal sense, from the smallest spore to poison to giant briar patches to ensnare. Life needs life to live. Every predatory instinct, every biological advantage, every weapon and tool loving crafted by nature to kill and consume belongs to the Prince.

At lower levels this can manifest in any number of ways. The Prince may be skilled in cultivating various poisonous plants and mushrooms, carve weapons made from wood, harvest deadly bacteria, weapons and tools made from the bones of predators, etc. As life is endless, so are the Prince’s options, it really comes down to a matter of their personal interests and combat preferences.

As the Prince of Life begins to progress this would evolve, becoming spontaneous rather than a more long term, laborious effort. Their weapon of choice would become supercharged. Creating rapidly regenerating mushrooms to use as grenades, spontaneously generating thorny spears, granting themselves augmentations like Wolverine claws or sharp fangs, etc. The Prince of Life would also begin the process of becoming the peak of what is physically possible. While all Sburb players are expected to develop superhuman capabilities, the Prince of Life would rapidly develop and exceed expectations for physical abilities, such as strength, speed, and reflexes. Wuxia levels of physical prowess. Strong like Equius, fast like Dirk, tenacious like Kanaya, etc.

At medium levels the Prince of Life has evolved to not simply wield a weapon, but to become a weapon, hosting their internal armory within themselves rather than relying on external forces. They could become a host to a deadly parasite, reshape their bones to create razor sharp weapons, and unleash laten poison stored in auxiliary organs or lying within their blood. By this point the Prince of Life would be inhuman, taking on aggressive and violent biological traits that would separate themselves from other members of their species.

At higher levels the Prince of Life would sit atop the food chain, not only in their supremacy in killing everything below them, but in that they have begun to transform past a single entity. Whereas other players and game constructs may be fierce combatants, they are ultimately a single body. Life grows, it blooms, it multiplies. The Prince of Life is not restricted to being a single physical entity in the way others may be. The Prince has become a nearly unstoppable engine, able to heal and recover from any injury as they push forward. They can become a multiplicity, creating a vast mycelium network that interweaves through the session, a hivemind swarm of ravenous predators, or exist as a parasite entity so that in the event of their death they may simply kill and replace whoever they have infected. The Prince of Life lives at the expense of others. As long as there are things left to die, the Prince of Life will continue to live.

With a fully realized god tier, the Prince of Life may be something like Doomsday from DC comics, an unstoppable juggernaut that adapts and evolves to any danger in a single minded pursuit to destroy.

Skills

Adapt and overcome- When reduced to 0 hp, respawn within 24 hours. You have developed a minor mutation, granting resistance against what killed you last.

From the root- Whenever you destroy something, you can choose to go all the way, erasing any trace of its existence and snuffing out potential to propagate. Even ideas may die

- - -

This post was commissioned! If you want to commission me or support my content, you can find me @ https://ko-fi.com/kesscal !

[wumblr]

i don't have anything to say about palestine that hasn't already been said, but i do think it's worth reiterating that this is occurring under doctrine of mutually assured destruction (meaning, detonation of nuclear warheads isn't necessarily required, since we are demonstrating capability of destruction using conventional munitions, but the persistent threat of something worse has a chokehold on international governance)

there's a very direct line between the funding allocated this year for HALEU production for nuclear power plants and the project to replace the ICBM arsenal (as well as the end of megatons to megawatts, the project to buy expired warheads from russia for conversion to nuclear fuel, which is largely the reason HALEU production was jumpstarted at all, because one of the primary sources dried up as it became politically unfavorable, despite the fact that it was a disarmament project using material from an adversarial state). support for nuclear power unequivocally leads to support for status quo geopolitics via the bomb (regardless of whether you are aware of this fact!), because reactors are the first step in the refinery production chain. and it's painful to watch almost everyone around me fall for it. as i've said countless times, you can't approach the problem of climate change by building out grid capacity for the climate changing machine

i also think it's worth repeating that anyone who's attuned to geopolitics already knows the US and ukraine blew up the nordstream pipeline, much in the same way that anyone who's attuned to nuclear policy knows the vela test was israel and apartheid south africa. much in the same way, again, that everyone knew 9/11 was used as false pretext for warmongering and yet it could not be said outright in the respectable news, none of these facts can be openly stated because it makes what we're doing unequivocally illegal. which is, of course, due to these facts, a farce. the law is written explicitly and intentionally to approve of whatever we're doing, or at least to obfuscate it in uncertainty and ambiguity when it's blatantly wrong, and written to be used against anyone who opposes us. which was, in a rare moment of honesty, openly stated when south africa brought charges of genocide against israel at the ICJ

[gunsli-01]

It's the birthday boy! You can click on the image for better resolution and there's a transcript under the cut.

Mikoto Kayano

A normal man of medium height. He is a common sense person who is always puzzled by the people in Milgram with strong habits. He attempts to adapt to situations in a sensible manner. Unlike the other prisoners within Milgram he is unaware of why he is being detained and what he is guilty of believing he must have been brought in by mistake. Even in the middle of the night noises can be heard from Mikoto's cell. Because of this it's become a common topic amongst the other prisoners that they don't really know when he's asleep.

Birthday: October 6

Your birthday shows you to be light, friendly, and congenial. A smart and creative Libra with original ideas. Diplomatic yet straight-speaking, you have an interest in people and are gracious and capable. Possessing natural shrewdness when it comes to financial affairs, you value security and appreciate the luxuries of life. The added influence of your decanate ruler, Aquarius, gives you a strong mind and an interest in the avant-garde.

You posses a gentle charm and elegance, but can be very independent, with a need for freedom. While sometimes critical, you are usually fairly easygoing, with a wonderful ability to make social contacts. A possible challenge to your stability may be an inclination to worry, particularly about monetary matters. You have a strong need for self-expression and an appreciation for beauty, color and sound that may lead to you wishing to develop your creative talents through writing, music, art, or drama. Regardless of what you do, you'll have good taste and an attraction to the unusual.

You may find yourself to be indecisive at times. However, once set on a course of action you can be determined in achieving your objectives.

Primary Star's Influence

Your primary star is Algorab. Algorab imparts a flair for business and enterprise. Bestowing determination and the power to overcome challenges with charm and grace on those it influences. It indicates a reserved and studious nature with an ambition for recognition and success. Algorab warns against destructiveness and deception from others.

Due to your sun's degree this star imparts a talent for making a good impression, success in dealing with the public, and getting support or promotion from others. If in the public view you can gain fame and popularity. However, you must guard against scandals that can lose you your position.

• Positive: Persistent, Big Enterprises, Popularity, Military Honor.

• Negatives: Unorthodox methods, Working against the establishment.

Your Secret Self

You are dependable and conscientious. Through an awareness of your responsibilities you can emphasize the importance of home and family in your life. You learn very quickly and have the ability to problem solve this often leads to you becoming an advisor to others. Be careful that in your desire to help that you do not begin to interfere or become anxious. You can make big sacrifices for those you love but are seldom swept off your feet by emotion.

A desire for harmony and peace of mind may end up manifesting as a need for regular periods of rest and recuperation. Your ability to quickly assess values and inner dramatic sense may cause you to naturally end up taking a leadership position. While you possess a good business sense, you may have to overcome a tendency to be too security-conscious or preoccupied with material concerns.

Work and Vocation

Creative and multifaceted, with sharp intelligence, you possess excellent business acumen and the talent to merchandise your unique ideas. You may fare best as a self-employed person, running your own business. Whatever career you may choose, you will always be looking for ways to improve your working conditions. Intuitive and friendly, you are able to create a welcoming and harmonious environment. A talent for writing, interest in public affairs and reforms suggests that you will be drawn to art, theater, writing, or music.

Your natural business sense indicates a gift for promotion and production. Alternatively, a philosophical or humanitarian leaning could be satisfied through careers such as teaching and politics.

Numerology

Compassion, idealism, and a caring nature are some of the attributes suggested by a number 6 birthday. It is also the number of the perfectionist and universal friend indicating that you are frequently a humanitarian who can be responsible, loving, and supportive. This numbered birthday indicates that you are a frequently domestically inclined and devoted parent. If you are the more sensitive sort you may need to find a form of creative expression and might be drawn to the entertainment industry or art and design. There may be a need for you to develop more self-confidence and overcome tendencies such as interfering, worry, and misplaced sympathy.

The sub-influence of the number 10 month indicates that you are highly intuitive and original but also a perfectionist. Although you want peace and harmony, a tendency to be skeptical and undeceived suggests that self-doubt and worry can leave you wondering where your loyalty belongs. If you lack trust or faith in yourself and others, you may be constantly dissatisfied or discontented.

• Positives: Worldly, Universal Brotherhood, Friendly, Compassionate, Dependable, Understanding, Sympathetic, Idealistic, Domesticated, Humanitarian, Artistic.

• Negatives: Discontented, Anxiety Ridden, Shy, Unreasonable, Disharmonious, Domineering, Lack of Responsibility, Selfish, Suspicious, Cynical, Self-centered.

Love & Relationships

Friendly and charming, you are able to fit into any social situation and can be a loving partner and supportive parent. Usually you are spontaneous, loyal, and giving. However, if you become too concerned with your own agenda, you can appear cold or indifferent. If you set your goals too high, it may be difficult for anyone to live up to your expectations. Your gregarious and hospitable personality ensures that you have many friend and are a good host. Because of your creative and imaginative nature you can be witty and entertaining.

Your Special Someone

To find the ideal partner, you may want to start by looking for someone born on one of the following dates.

Love & Friendship: Jan. 4, 8, 13, 22, 26. Feb 2, 6, 20, 24. Mar 4, 18, 22. Apr 2, 16, 20, 30. May 14, 18, 28, 30. June 3, 12, 16, 26, 28. July 10, 14, 24, 26. Aug 8, 12, 22, 24. Sept 6, 10, 20, 22, 30. Oct 4, 8, 18, 20, 28. Nov 2, 6, 16, 18, 26. Dec 4, 14, 16, 24.

Beneficial: Jan 9, 20. Feb 7, 18. Mar 5, 16, 29. April 3, 14, 27. May 1, 12, 25. June 10, 23. July 8, 21. Aug 6, 19. Sept 4, 17. Oct 2, 15, 30. Nov 13, 28. Dec 11, 26, 30.

Fatal Attractions: Jan 27. Feb 25. Mar 23. Apr 2, 3, 4, 5, 21. May 19. June 17. July 15. Aug 13. Sep 11. Oct 9. Nov 7. Dec 5.

Challenging: Jan 2, 10, 19. Feb 8, 17. Mar 6, 15. Apr 4, 13. May 2, 11. June 9. July 7, 30. Aug 5, 28. Sep 3, 26. Oct 1, 24. Nov 22. Dec 20, 30.

Soul mates: Jan 15. Feb 13. Mar 11. Apr 9. May 7. June 5. July 3. Aug 1. Oct 29. Nov 27. Dec 25.

[owlet]

there’s a certain extreme of people who care very very deeply about pro/anti shipping discourse which is so genuinely self destructive and i’m not sure that the people participating in it realize that

it works in both directions but particularly looks like self harm on part of antis who go out of their way to find and harass people making ship content that they find triggering. it’s one thing to get upset when something like that appears in what you thought was a safe space but if you are leaving your online comfort zones to specifically seek out material that viscerally upsets you, you are hurting yourself. if you are purposefully going into a triggering space over and over and over again that is self harm. you are not protecting anyone. you are sentencing yourself to a death by a thousand cuts.

they’re not going to stop because you told them to. people making stomach churning fictional content will persist regardless of if you keep seeking them out and picking fights. you should be shielding yourself from seeing this kind of thing in the first place, not hate-browsing tags and getting more and more upset

[tanadrin]

What are your thoughts on people who just want to be left alone, and not just solitarily - they want to leave modern society and go live in the woods.

They should be permitted to. Modern liberal democracies are mostly OK with making deals with secessionist subcultures: enclaves of Mennonites, the Amish, ultra-orthodox Jews, and so forth are permitted form and mostly self-govern, and are occasionally even granted opt-outs from various forms of government interference, like certain taxes or insurance requirements, on the basis that they make much less use of government services. It's harder to carve out such exceptions for individuals, but we do have things like the concept of the conscientious objector that accommodate deviations from the usually expected set of rights and obligations for people with a commitment to alternate sets of values.

But these things exist on a spectrum; opting in or out of society isn't a binary choice. Also, except in the libertarian fantasy land, it's very hard even in North America these days to find trackless wilderness where you can live totally unconnected to the rest of humanity--and most of it is in Alaska and northern Canada, so bring a nice thick coat. Where I think this consideration, the concept of "atomic communitarianism" to borrow a phrase, is most interesting is in its more complicated real-world instantiations.

Anabaptist religious communities in the US, for instance, aren't really autarkic villages; they're socially segregated, but economically connected with the surrounding area. Ultra-orthodox Jewish groups, while endogamous, have historically always existed within larger urban communities, and could not function without them; many seem happy to rely on social support from the government, which given the emphasis they place on a particular kind of pious lifestyle makes sense.

Where indulging atomicity in society encounters tension, I think one of three things are at play. First, the atomic community is in conflict with the wider community over material interests. The fight over the distribution of public school funding in Ramapo, New York is a great example of this. I don't think these kinds of conflicts ever have easy solutions, especially when the atomic community in question doesn't or can't form a distinct separate unit of local self-government.

Second, an organization wants conditional status as an atomic community. Anabaptists generally refrain from participating in secular government as a fundamental tenet of their religion; contrast the Catholic church, which now that religiosity is declining in many of its former strongholds, often presents itself as merely wanting to govern its own affairs free from governmental interference; but as soon as they are in a position to influence policy and make political noise, they do so, and they have no doctrinal objection to being made the sole official church of a secular state. In other words, Catholics are not naturally an atomic community, and so shouldn't be treated as one. They shouldn't get special consideration in a pluralist society, and Catholic institutions should be subject to normal rule of law. The Catholic church hates this, and it's this loathing of being constrained by the same rules everyone else is, rather than a real ideological motive, that causes them to cover up child abuse and play the victim when their mass graves get dug up in Canada and Ireland.

Thirdly, an atomic community may be genuine in its aspiration to atomicity, and it may be tolerated implicitly or officially by the collective authorities; but there are obligations that the collective authorities have to individual members it is pledged to protect that supersede any deal made with the community as a whole. The most visible example of this in the present day is child abuse by religious authorities. Whether it's the FLDS, ultra-orthodox Jewish communities, or, yes, the Catholics, one of the few things our society absolutely refuses to condone in an atomic community or an aspiring one is the sexual abuse of children, and the obligation of the collective authorities to prevent that is considered so far-reaching that no exceptions for any self-governing community can be permitted. Sometimes these communities can stave off interference temporarily by capturing local authority in elections and flying under the radar of more remote authorities, but this seems to only work in rural areas and only for a limited amount of time. The only imperative to exercise state authority over atomic communities that I can think of that comes even close to this one regards, like, tax evasion, because states also have a strong incentive to make sure people know that independent parallel authorities aren't permitted to compete with the state, and tax collection is one of the very basic functions of government.

Now, all of the above examples are religious communities. That's not entirely a coincidence: religion is a powerful community-building force, and rising standards of living in the developed world have reduced the relevance of purely political or economic utopian projects. In countries like the US, where there is a strong tradition of religious freedom, federalism, and soft libertarianism, society can easily accommodate a large number of atomic communities, even highly insular religious ones. That is strong to America's credit; in almost every case, if people want to go off and do their own thing, they should be permitted to. Even fucked-up cults like the FLDS folks should get a strong benefit of the doubt, because pluralism is important, and state power is a crude bludgeon, and when that bludgeon goes awry you get shit like the Waco massacre. We can quibble on where exactly the line for outside interference should be drawn, but regardless of the criteria we use, sexual abuse of children seems like a reasonable criterion for interference.

Should lone individuals or tiny groups get carte blanche to fuck off into the woods and never contact human society again? Sure; but they effectively already have that, if they can find an empty patch of woods. And simply in terms of sheer numbers, the quantity of hermits and members of eremitical microcommunities will always be dwarfed by larger, more persistent atomic communities like those organized on religious lines. Religion is just a much stronger motivating factor for that kind of secessionism.

If a self-organized community of individualists did form in the wilderness, or on some vast expanse of privately owned land, and wanted to govern themselves free from interference--well, that's called "incorporating a municipality" and you can go through existing legal channels. Your new town won't be free of state or federal authority, depending on where it is; but if you're large enough to need a bona fide local government, I think there's a strong presumption that your community has a big enough impact on the surrounding areas and is populous enough that the collective authority takes a legitimate interest in how your community is run. But local governments are really important, and get a lot of shit done! Don't underrate their power.

If you really want more autonomy, you can always petition your state or national government for status as a separate state/territory/province/autonomous community/department (it worked for the Mormons!). You'd probably have to be fairly big; but I think your community would have to be very large in the first place to really get any benefit from that kind of larger local government. And, of course, there's always the Free State Project. In fact, I want to strongly encourage right-libertarians and anarcho-capitalists of every stripe, no matter where in the world they live, to move to New Hampshire and leave the rest of us alone. I think that's a really terrific idea (and more viable than seasteading).

One thing I didn't discuss is uncontacted peoples or native communities that preexist the communitarian authority. Especially with regard to the former, I don't trust state power to interfere in these communities in a non-destructive way; whatever the conditions the North Sentinelese are living in, the entire population being wiped out by measles carried over from the mainland would not be an improvement. And the excuse of legitimate state interest in protecting individuals has often been used to fuck with communities of racial undesirables--it is after all the reason the residential schools in Canada were built, and the Catholic church empowered to imprison children in them. This is part of the reason why even if you can prove an atomic community is a fucked up cult that treats its members horribly, I don't think it should be forcibly disbanded--the criteria for interference have to be extreme, because they have been so flagrantly abused in the past. Basically, the framework I'm using in the rest of this post doesn't apply here, because these native communities aren't secessionist for any meaningful use of the term. They function differently, they preexisted the authorities imposed on them, and that original imposition was a war of conquest.

[sunevial]

Can you go a little in depth about genasi in your Eberron?

Genasi are a form of planetouched, or an individual that has been influenced by one of the many planes of Eberron. Generally speaking, genasi are regarded as neutral planetouched, though this is technically a misnomer. If the aasimar represents the good that fire can bring and the tiefling the destruction it leaves in its wake, the genasi represents fire as it manifests in the material plane. Some would argue that this means that a genasi would be a purely neutral force with neutral planar magic. Others would argue that a genasi's existence is to embody all the aspects of a plane, including the good and the bad.

Regardless of the 'magical neutrality' of a genasi, it is often better to understand them as an embodiment of how the planes interact with the material. Their transitive nature is stronger than other planetouched. This can manifest in a wide variety of quirks, ranging from feeling coterminous periods more strongly to even dreaming in their plane of influence.

Additionally, for yet unknown reasons, every genasi born on Eberron has a mirror on their respective plane. Planar echoes are not unheard of throughout the orrery, often embodying a fragment of a person as a reflection. However, for a genasi, these echoes function essentially as a spiritual 'twin'—a planar being with a spark of the material to contrast the mortal genasi with a spark of the planes. The genasi and their planar twin are unique individuals and exist independently of the other, but they have similar appearances and may exhibit similar mannerisms. Most genasi will never meet their echoes, and vice versa, but many believe that when a genasi dreams in their plane of influence, they are seeing through the eyes of their twin—and perhaps their twin sees the same in the material.

The following planar echoes have been noted to exist throughout the planes of Eberron.

Daanvi. Planar echoes in Daanvi come in the form of Subjects, a humanoid creature that exists for the purpose of following Daanvi's laws. Echoes connected to a specific genasi have more form and personality than other Subjects, and they may challenge laws put into place by either angels or devils. They are not particularly concerned with their mortal counterpart.

Dal Quor. Given that Dal Quor is severed from normal planar interactions, the plane is not able to produce planetouched of any variety. It is unknown exactly what form these planar echoes would take, should they exist at all.

Dolurrh. While Dolurrh is often referred to as a planar machine, echoes do occasionally take form within the realm of the dead. This may come in the form of a shadar-kai-like creature, a particularly persistent ghost, or a coalescing memory. No one knows what these echoes truly are; some speculate they are the will of the plane made manifest, others say they are a manifestation of the Draconic Prophesy itself.

Fernia. Fernian echoes resemble humanoid elementals, filled with burning passion and purpose. Often far more excitable than their humanoid counterparts, they nevertheless may be driven to a similar profession or interest of their respective genasi. These echoes also are some of the most curious about their Eberronian counterpart and may choose to enter the material to find them.

Irian. Irian echoes come in the form of lumi, beings with fragments of mortals who have passed on from the world. Unlike normal lumi, lumi echoes preserve and protect the most precious memories of their counterpart alongside other memories. While devoted to their duties on Irian, many feel a familial bond with their respective genasi and may find ways of giving them aid. This could be an especially unique origin for a sorcerous origin or warlock pact as a genasi and lumi grow their bond.

Kythri. Echos from Kythri are ever changing, possessing a somewhat humanoid shape that never remains the exact same material for long. While elementals, as an echo, they are considerably more stable than other entities in the Churning Chaos, making them a rare possible ally for those within the plane. They rarely concerned with their mortal counterpart.

Lamannia. Lamannian echoes are primarily elementals, far more primordial and formless than on other planes. However, some Lamannian echoes may come in the form of an actual humanoid, making them much more akin to a true spiritual twin. This could take the form of a merfolk with similar facial structure to their genasi counterpart, a lycanthrope with eerie similarity in mannerisms, or any other sentient being. These echoes are full people in their own right, and they may be aware of their Eberronian counterpart from similar stories told by their people.

Mabar. Shadows are the planar echoes of Mabar, silent and often hungry for life energy. Those connected to a genasi, however, might have more personality and some resistance to the draining despair of the plane. They might be found mimicking the actions of their mortal counterpart, and while still possessing the draining hunger of the plane, may be one of the few sparks of light for a wandering soul.

Risia. While few things actively exist in Risia, planar echoes are one of the few things truly ignored by the Killing Cold. These elemental spirits can be found wandering the endless icy landscape, picking apart items left frozen in the ice. While quiet and not wishing to attract the plane's attention, echoes can be a spark of familiarity in such a desolate landscape.

Shavarath. The most commonly known of al planar echoes are in Shavarath. They come in the form of Conscripts, manifestations of common soldiers in the command of fiends and angels, and Sword Wraiths, fragments of a particularly powerful warrior on the Material. Echoes connected to a genasi grow in power and prestige with their counterpart, often rising from a Conscript into a true Sword Wraith. Sword Wraith echoes have considerably more personality and memory compared to other sword wraiths, and they will almost certainly recognize their Eberronian counterpart.

Syrania. Syranian echoes are often part of the lowest tier of angels, serving as scribes and guides. However, unlike most of their fellows, Syranian echoes have more drive and personality. They might dedicate their life to studying and recording their counterpart, their family and friends, or even a subject the genasi particularly enjoys.

Thelanis. Echoes from Thelanis are the equivalent of a Supporting Cast member that has broken from its original story. Fully sentient and aware of its role, these echoes are perhaps the most driven of any planar twin. Many are fascinated by the idea of meeting their other half while others wish to use their newfound importance to rise within the fay courts.

Xoriat. Echoes in Xoriat are particularly alien. While still humanoid, these echoes rapidly change in appearance, reflecting their counterpoint at different stages in life. They might appear as a genasi when they were a child, or a possible future they could one day walk. While lost in time, they are not particularly hostile, and they may even warn their counterpart of things that have not yet come to pass.

[paenling]

no ones saying you cant enjoy daniil? people like him as a character but mostly Because he’s an asshole and he’s interesting. the racism and themes of colonization in patho are so blatant

nobody said “by order of Law you are forbidden from enjoying daniil dankovsky in any capacity”, but they did say “if you like daniil dankovsky you are abnormal, problematic, and you should be ashamed of yourself”, so i’d call that an implicit discouragement at the least. not very kind.

regardless, he is a very interesting asshole and we love to make fun of him! but i do not plan to stop seeing his character in an empathetic light when appropriate to do so. we’re all terribly human.

regarding “the racism and themes of colonization in patho”, we’ve gotta have a sit-down for this one because it’s long and difficult. tl;dr here.

i’ve written myself all back and forth and in every direction trying to properly pin down the way i feel about this in a way that is both logically coherent and emotionally honest, but it’s not really working. i debated even responding at all, but i do feel like there are some things worth saying so i’m just going to write a bunch of words, pick a god, and pray it makes some modicum of sense.

the short version: pathologic 2 is a flawed masterwork which i love deeply, but its attempts to be esoteric and challenging have in some ways backfired when it comes to topical discussions such as those surrounding race, which the first game didn’t give its due diligence, and the second game attempted with incomplete success despite its best efforts.

the issue is that when you have a game that is so niche and has these “elevated themes” and draws from all this kind of academic highbrow source material -- the fandom is small, but the fandom consists of people who want to analyze, pathologize, and dissect things as much as possible. so let’s do that.

first: what exactly is racist or colonialist in pathologic? i’m legitimately asking. people at home: by what mechanism does pathologic-the-game inflict racist harm on real people? the fact that the Kin are aesthetically and linguistically inspired by the real-world Buryat people (& adjacent groups) is a potential red flag, but as far as i can tell there’s never any value judgement made about either the fictionalized Kin or the real-world Buryat. the fictional culture is esoteric to the player -- intended to be that way, in fact -- but that’s not an inherently bad thing. it’s a closed practice and they’re minding their business.

does it run the risk of being insensitive with sufficiently aggressive readings? absolutely, but i don’t think that’s racist by itself. they’re just portrayed as a society of human beings (and some magical ones, if you like) that has flaws and incongruences just as the Town does. it’s not idealizing or infantilizing these people, but by no means does it go out of its way to villainize them either. there is no malice in this depiction of the Kin. 

is it the fact that characters within both pathologic 1 & 2 are racist? that the player can choose to say racist things when inhabiting those characters? no, because pathologic-the-game doesn’t endorse those things. they’re throwaway characterization lines for assholes. acknowledging that racism exists does not make a media racist. see more here.

however, i find it’s very important to take a moment and divorce the racial discussions in a game like pathologic 2 from the very specific experiences of irl western (particularly american) racism. it’s understandable for such a large chunk of the english-speaking audience to read it that way; it makes sense, but that doesn’t mean it’s correct. although it acknowledges the relevant history to some extent, on account of being set in 1915, pathologic 2 is not intended to be a commentary about race, and especially not current events, and especially especially not current events in america. it’s therefore unfair, in my opinion, to attempt to diagnose it with any concrete ideology or apply its messages to an american racial paradigm.

it definitely still deals with race, but it always, to me, seemed to come back around the exploitation of race as an ultimately arbitrary division of human beings, and the story always strove to be about human beings far more than it was ever about race. does it approach this topic perfectly? no, but it’s clearly making an effort. should we be aware of where it fails to do right by the topic? yes, definitely, but we should also be charitable in our interpretations of what the writers were actually aiming for, rather than reactionarily deeming them unacceptable and leaving it at that. do we really think the writers for pathologic 2 sat down and said “we’re going to go out of our way to be horrible racists today”? i don’t.

IPL’s writing team is a talented lot, and dybowski as lead writer has the kinds of big ideas that elevate a game to a work of art, particularly because he’s not afraid to get personal. on that front, some discussion is inescapable as pathologic 2 deals in a lot of racial and cultural strife, because it’s clearly something near to the his heart, but as i understand it was never really meant to be a narrative “about” race, at least not exclusively so, and especially not in the same sense as the issue is understood by the average American gamer. society isn't a monolith and the contexts are gonna change massively between different cultures who have had, historically, much different relationships with these concepts.

these themes are “so blatant” in pathologic 2 because clearly, on some level, IPL wanted to start a discussion. I think it’s obvious that they wanted to make the audience uncomfortable with the choices they were faced with and the characters they had to inhabit -- invoke a little ostranenie, as it were, and force an emotional breaking point. in the end the game started a conversation and i think that’s something that was done in earnest, despite its moments of obvious clumsiness. 

regarding colonialism, this is another thing that the game is just Not About. we see the effects and consequences of colonialism demonstrated in the world of pathologic, and it’s something we’re certainly asked to think about from time to time, but the actual plot/narrative of the game is not about overcoming or confronting explicitly colonialist constructs, etc. i personally regard this as a bit of a missed opportunity, but it’s just not what IPL was going for.

instead they have a huge focus, as discussed somewhat in response to this ask, on the broader idea of powerful people trying to create a “utopia” at the mortal cost of those they disempower, which is almost always topical as far as i’m concerned, and also very Russian.

i think there was some interview where it was said that the second game was much more about “a mechanism that transforms human nature” than the costs of utopia, but it’s still a persistent enough theme to be worth talking about both as an abstraction of colonialism as well as in its more-likely intended context through the lens of wealth inequality, environmental destruction & government corruption as universal human issues faced by the marginalized classes. i think both are important and intelligent readings of the text, and both are worth discussion.

both endings of pathologic 2 involve sacrifice in the name of an “ideal world” where it’s impossible to ever be fully satisfied. in the Diurnal Ending, Artemy is tormented over the fate of the Kin and the euthanasia of his dying god and all her miracles, but he needs to have faith that the children he’s protected will grow up better than their parents and create a world where he and his culture will be immortalized in love. in the Nocturnal Ending, he’s horrified because in preserving the miracle-bound legacy of his people as a collective, he’s un-personed himself to the individuals he loves, but he needs to have faith that the uniqueness and magic of the resurrected Earth was precious enough to be worth that sacrifice. neither ending is fair. it’s not fair that he can’t have both, but that’s the idea. because that “utopia” everyone’s been chasing is an idol that distracts from the important work of being a human being and doing your best in a flawed world. 

because pathologic’s themes as a series are so very “Russian turn-of-the-century” and draw a ton of stylistic and topical inspiration from the theatre and literature of that era, i don’t doubt that it’s also inherited some of its inspirational literature’s missteps. however, because the game’s intertextuality is so incredibly dense it’s difficult to construct a super cohesive picture of its actual messaging. a lot of its references and themes will absolutely go over your head if you enter unprepared -- this was true for me, and it ended up taking several passes and a bunch of research to even begin appreciating the breadth of its influences.

(i’d argue this is ultimately a good thing; i would never have gone and picked up Camus or Strugatsky, or even known who Antonin Artaud was at all if i hadn’t gone in with pathologic! my understanding is still woefully incomplete and it’s probably going to take me a lot more effort to get properly fluent in the ideology of the story, but that’s the joy of it, i think. :) i’m very lucky to be able to pursue it in this way.)

anyway yes, pathologic 2 is definitely very flawed in a lot of places, particularly when it tries to tackle race, but i’m happy to see it for better and for worse. the game attempts to discuss several adjacent issues and stumbles as it does so, but insinuating it to be in some way “pro-racist” or “pro-colonialist” or whatever else feels kind of disingenuous to me. they’re clearly trying, however imperfectly, to do something intriguing and meaningful and empathetic with their story.

even all this will probably amount to a very disjointed and incomplete explanation of how pathologic & its messaging makes me feel, but what i want -- as a broader approach, not just for pathologic -- is for people to be willing to interpret things charitably. 

sometimes things are made just to be cruel, and those things should be condemned, but not everything is like that. it’s not only possible but necessary to be able to acknowledge flaws or mistakes and still be kind. persecuting something straight away removes any opportunity to examine it and learn from it, and pathologic happens to be ripe with learning experiences. 

it’s all about being okay with ugliness, working through difficult nuances with grace, and the strength of the human spirit, and it’s a story about love first and foremost, and i guess we sort of need that right now. it gave me some of its love, so i’m giving it some of my patience.

[sweetestlamb]

Stronger Part 4 (A New Day Has Come)

Summary: Mun-yeong spends some time with someone important and a gets a surprise.

Author's Note: Got an annoying comment on this story yesterday and it motivated me to write lol so thanks! Hope you guys like and comments, that motivate me even more 😉🥰 nothing like love to drive out hate! The story is coming to an end unfortunately, I'm thinking 2 more chapters maybe three. If I had time I would drag it out for 9 😂😂 but schools start Monday so there goes my life. Happy reading y'all.

Solitude gripes at her insanity, tearing her apart until she succumbs to the thoughts that plague her mind of her inadequacies and how insignificant she is to those around her.

Being around Sang-tae oppa fills a portion of the void in your chest but his presence only reminds her further of another that she's dreadfully missing, his messages overflow her phone now. Taking a swift turn from condescending to something sweeter and more pleading. It takes every ounce of restraint in her body not to open them, relying on the bits she can see in the previews. Fully turning a blind eye to him is beyond difficult for her, every atom of her being is calling out for him.

She has dragged herself from the car too many times, desperate to run to him and soothe his pain, eager to see what he wants to talk about, maybe just maybe he's ready to apologize and unclench the clamp he placed on her heart that day on the beach.

But.

What if he isn't? What if he wants to share more of his past with her in the hopes that she'll overlook all that came before. In the past that might have been the case, she had been ever forgiving, something that only he was privy to. But his words ring in her ears- one time event, get lost- invading her dreams and taking the place of her mother's floating figure terrorizing her nightly.

Somewhere along the way she realized that she puts him first, his emotions and comfort have taken precedent over her own and when she'd searched what exactly that meant the answer made her head spin.

A four letter word that most humans will experience except Ko Mun-yeong.

She's much too selfish and destructive to be ever love or be loved by another, she knows that know. When he'd finally opened up to her, there'd been a plethora of emotions that clawed to the surface and vengeance had been one of them, it wasn't enough that he was sharing his darkest secrets because of everything she'd been through to get there. It was as if he'd stabbed her in the chest, left her bleeding only to return and patch up her wounds, too much had occurred and the scarring remained.

So she left in the middle of the night, abandoned that godforsaken place, stuffing expensive fabrics in a vintage Louis Vuitton luggage set, eager to escape the dead silence that rang out in the castle without the Moon brothers pumping life back into it.

In the end she didn't go far, finding a guest house that reminded her of that brief getaway with him, she paid for the week and turned off her phone fielding persistent check in calls from Sang-in. Gang-tae hadn't tried to call merely texting that they should talk and it was almost laughable that despite his seeming desperation he still seemed reluctant to go the full mile. Only her deep rooted sadness stopped her from chuckling at her circumstances, what a tragic mess.

She didn't let his current persistence fool her, fool me once shame on you fool me twice, well everyone knew the rest. It was time she stopped looking like a fool. Regardless of what she felt for him she knew that that this couldn't be, he'd been right all along.

I hope I never see you again.

So much heart ache could have been prevented if she'd heeded his warning. So she was doing it now, her anger had fizzled off tempering into bitter acceptance.

He would give up soon enough, that was his style.

The woman in charge of the guest house steers clear of her and the first day she lays carelessly on the bed roll, not even bothering to comb her hair. Simply, being. It's intoxicating and new, her phone remains turned off tossed to the side as she thinks about nothing- ignoring the way that nothing something has deep sad eyes and a bowl hair cut. She's trying to think about nothing and that's what counts.

She has food delivered and it's strange to eat something that isn't a Subway sandwich after all the food Sang-in as been bringing her and temporarily guilt forms in the pit of her belly, he's probably going crazy trying to locate her but she's just not ready. She's still tired. Bone chilling fatigue.

The next day she walks down a dirt road, her long white dress dragging on the ground, dirtied but the thin material allows a passing breeze to wash across her body and she's content, staring at the sky and thinking of nothing. She spots a lone bird sitting in a tree and wonders if all the other birds have left it behind, whether it has nowhere to go and no one to see. Then she berates herself for worrying about a bird, all this time alone is pushing the limits of her sanity.

The days bleed into each other, dawn folding into dusk with watercolor skies and earthy morning dew.

She tries to write but it's hard to get any words down that aren't depressing and she can't think of any morals or lessons besides don't let anyone in.

Then she tries her hand at drawing, a portrait of her twisting a deer's neck.

The guest house keeper asks her if she hates bears the next day and that's the end of that endeavor.

The week is coming to an end and she's no where closer to knowing what to do, maybe it's time to go back to Seoul, leave this all behind like a bad dream.

When she finally deems herself mentally prepared she turns on her phone, pinging and vibrating from all the forlorn messages, sputtering in her hand as she watches in shock. As expected Sang-in has called and messaged and threatened, she smirks at his empty threats, heart slightly warmed.

Ju-ri, Seung-jae, Sang-tae, and him. All their names flash on her screen. Surprising her, as she'd never expect them to notice her disappearance. Much less reach out to her. Strange. But she writes it off, maybe Sang-in had roped them all into it. With trepidation she opens her messenger and responds to one, keeping a promise, with a few presses and a selfie she sends the message and closes the phone with a sigh.

Done.

The next day the clouds are smoggy ash grey in the sky, darkening the skies into something fierce and she pulls on a sweater and forgoes an umbrella welcoming the storm. Electricity swelters in the thick air causing a sheen of sticky perspiration to cling to her skin. She dons a simple sleeveless mini dress and sandals, trekking to the familiar dirt road.

She walks for hours, aimlessly without a care or worry in her head. Thoughts of him still push their way in at times but she's come to accept that as her baseline, once she returns to Seoul he will be nothing but a faint memory of the time she dreamed too big.

The first drop of rain on her skin makes goose pimples explode across her flesh, fat and chilled as they cascade from the atmosphere. Turning her head up towards the heavens she grins bitterly at nothing, her whole life has been nothing but rain, the moment is oddly fitting.

Mud splatters to her feet coating her toes in sloshy brown that slides between her toes, drenched from the downpour she slowly walks back no haste in her movement, steady footsteps despite the speed of the rain as it pelts against her.

The guest house comes back into sight as she meanders to the gate, vaguely remembering that she'd pulled it shut yet the doors now swing open. Blaming that on the rain she steps through, pulling it shut behind her continuing to stride to the steps.

As she hears the sliding door she eyes catch a figure blurry through the watery sheet in front of her eyes, the voice calling her name stops her in her tracks, no longer able to pretend that it's a mirage.

Her eyes aren't deceiving her, there he is. Once again finding her in the rain, except this time she doesn't need to be saved, she'll be the one doing the saving. For them both.

She takes him in, the rain soaking his hair flat onto his face, clothes plastered to his body as he stands eerily still, dark pools intensely taking her in as well.

After the slight hiccup, she continues walking taking off her sullied sandals and tossing them to the side and then she places her hand on the door, prepared to enter and forget what she saw. Ignorance is bliss.

"Mun-yeong."

All he has to say to get her heart pounding like a drum, she screams in her mind. That time spent apart should have made this easier, why didn't this feel easy? All the fatigue that she'd been running from hits her like a freight train crashing through her passive wall.

"Get lost."

He moves to block her way and her rage simmers below the surface.

"I've been worried about you. We all were so worried. You can't just leave like that, why did you go without saying anything?" His voice is wavering between anger and something softer, more human that makes his voice crack on the last syllable.

"Move."

She's not ready to assess what his being here means, what his voice and his concern mean. None of it makes sense and she's going to file it all under: unexplained phenomenon.

"Can't we talk first, please?"

"I don't want to talk." She sidesteps him, reaching once more for the door.

"Mun-yeong let me explain, let me make this right. I'm sor--"

"Shut up. I said I didn't want to talk. Go back you saw me, I'm alive you don't need to say anything more."

She's not sure she'll be able to contain herself if he says anything else, she's already dangling off the cliff. She can't allow herself to fall and burst apart.

"No! Why are you pushing me away? I need you! I told you I needed you I meant that, you can't just run away damn it."!

She stares blankly before her throat croaks and laughter tumbles from her lips. Deep belly chuckles that shake her body viciously.

Then quick as a switch the laughter stops.

Diamond hard gaze locked on his bewildered face before she speaks, "You think you're the only one who wanted? Do you? I wanted you to stay. I wanted you to fight for me, to let me in. I wanted you to see that I was hurt and apologize and mean it. You think a kiss is enough, you think telling me everything is enough after you break my heart? It's not!" Her voice pierces through the cacophonous drone of the rain beating the world, crying its heart out.

He jolts at her pained cries, fingers reaching for her but she immediately moves out of reach feeling naked and raw under his stare.

You broke my heart.

She's shown too much of her cards already, it's too late to bluff.

So she'll take a page from his book.

Throwing the door open and slamming it shut, holding it tight.

He doesn't try to open it. She sighs in relief leaning back against the hard wood, feeling all the fight evacuate her body.

He's probably gone. You pushed him too hard. Who are you to reject him? No one else will ever tolerate you.

Her thoughts don't scare her, just like Gang-tae had chosen his brother and the life he knew she was doing the same, choosing herself and the loneliness she'd grown accustomed to. Why give him another chance to throw her away he was clearly capable of it, it was only a matter of time she wouldn't change. Couldn't change. Immovable object.

The rain falls and falls, washing everything away and making the world anew. She lays on her back wondering how far he's gotten in this downpour. How had he even found her? All questions she'll never get the answers to.

Sleep tugs her eyelids shut as her thoughts swirl until they too fade to black.

Hands held high over her head, she pulls her tired bones feeling the tension melt with each stretch. Gathering clothes to take a much needed bath she carelessly tugs the door open only to jump back when he almost tumbles into her room.

What.

"What? What are you doing here?" She shrieks, avoiding collision by the barest inch.

"Waiting for you."

She blinks at him, taking in his drenched clothes-noting his shivers- and the dark circles that sink into the skin beneath his eyes, resembling a raccoon.

Had he slept outside all night? And if he had was he insane, why didn't he go back home?

"Why didn't you go back? Are you crazy? You can't sleep outside in the rain!"

She blushes at her outburst, slapping a hand over her traitorous mouth. He merely looks at her, she overlooks the tender glint in his eyes.

Stepping forward he grabs her hand, she fights to pull her appendage away but he tightens his grip which contrasts immensely with the softness in his eyes.

Voice like warm honey he answers, "Because you're here and I.....need you. I'm not going anywhere."

The sun shines brightly outside as a new day rises somewhere in the distance a lone bird's call is answered by another.

[spaceokase]

Lion

Zephrine was completely in her element.

Even in the Ascendency, this alien land, with its alien culture, strange gods and stranger priorities, she felt at home. She belonged.

The half-elven Zephyra persona was fake, a performance, but Zephrine wore it like a second skin, practiced and professional. The party she was currently attending with her friends was both incredibly similar and different from the first formal gathering she had attended. It seemed that a fancy party was a fancy party, no matter where it took place. It contained all the same pleasantries and small talk, dances and scandals, silks and finger foods.

The key difference was less the party itself, and more Zephrine’s place within it. The first party she’d attended, the Sky’s Anchor Ball, was meant to be fun, but even before the assassins struck, it was tense, uncomfortable. Zephrine was a simple girl from the country, a small village in a small duchy that few people had even heard of, and yet she was surrounded by people with influence. She maintained a persistent knowledge that she was at the mercy of these people with power, the merchants and nobles and knights who could ruin her life with the snap of their fingers if they so desired. She simply tried to make it through the evening with her reputation relatively unscathed, her ambitions held low.

This time was different. She knew now, long after that first ball, that she was powerful. She knew she was capable, and if someone wished to ruin her life, they would swiftly come to regret their choices. No longer was Zephrine powerless and scared, the helpless lamb in a den of lions. Now, she was just as much a lion as the people surrounding her, and she took both comfort and a subtle pleasure in that.

It was far easier to enjoy the pleasantries of this party with this new realization, despite the imminent danger. She talked, she danced, she obtained important information, and she made a new friend all the while. Each word, each movement was a careful step in a veteran performance, seamless, flawless.

And then someone asked her for a dance.

It seemed rather innocuous at first, and Zephrine met him with a smile, but questions rapidly ran through her mind. Why did he want to dance with her? Did he want something? Or had she simply caught his eye?

She offered her arm, keeping most of her questions to herself, “Of course I will dance with you. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

He was a half-elven man, with brown hair, green eyes and a charming smile. There was nothing particularly notable about him, physically. He would hardly have been of note at all, had he not introduced himself.

“Raymond Sinnad. A pleasure to meet you, Lady Zephyra.”

Zephrine’s winning smile stretched thin. This was the man that Vahzi had warned her about. The only time Vahzi had expressed fear in the decades that she had known her. The only person Vahzi had ever felt it was necessary to warn her about.

Zephrine tread carefully, and let him take her to the dance floor. He was the first to break the initial silence.

“It’s been quite an interesting party so far. Or at least, the guests have been interesting. Not everyone here is as they seem.”

He looked at her intently, still smiling warmly, and Zephrine tilted her head back at him.

"Oh? That’s curious! Who isn't as they seem?"

“Well,” He looked over at the other guests, casually, nonchalant, “There's the doppelganger, masquerading as the Cardinal, which is curious. There's the magister over there… or the magister's son, I should say.” He smirked, amused, “And then, of course there's you.” He looked her in the eye, and a chill went down her spine. “It’s not often you see a dragonborn disguised as a half-elf at a fancy party."

The steps in her dance faltered, and with it came a sense of dread. For the first time during this party, she was vulnerable, exposed to both the elements and the unrelenting gaze of the dangerous stranger before her. Her head drooped slightly, and looked away at something, anything to avoid his intense stare. In all her years of being able to change her form, never had a stranger been able to discern it for what it was.

“I… I would prefer that you not tell anyone,” She finally said, pleading, quiet, “The Ascendency isn’t kind to those who look less human.”

“Oh, I’ve no interest in ruining whatever plans you may have, My Lady. I was simply curious. These parties are usually a bit dull for my taste, but I always enjoy seeing a new face.”

He smiled at her. She smiled back as her skin crawled. “Ah, well, I appreciate you not spreading that knowledge regardless.”

“Of course. You have important things to do, clearly. I won’t keep you from that.”

The conversation’s tone grew more casual after that, but Vahzi’s warning echoed in Zephrine’s mind.

“If you see him, run away, as fast as you can. Do not try and fight him. Promise me.”

As the warning echoed, Sinnad spoke of many things, all about himself, both thankfully and not. He spoke of his time traveling the world. He spoke about his talent as a mage, and his adventures. Grand feats of bravery and destruction, seemingly exaggerated had she not witnessed one of his capabilities herself. From an outside perspective, it was completely normal. To her, it was incredibly unnerving.

Sinnad eventually told Zephrine about his home, a tower amongst the clouds, reclaimed from cloud giants, and invited her to his abode. She politely replied that she would keep it in mind, even though she definitely wouldn’t.

Then, as abruptly as he came, he left, setting her free to her own devices.

Zephrine gave her polite goodbyes, but refused to glance back at his retreating form. She refused to give him more material to work with lest he decide she was to be his next conquest, like the cloud giants or dragons before her. She had questions for Vahzi, for later, but currently she had more urgent matters to attend to. Her focus shifted quickly to the task at hand, the defeat of the New Dawn, but one thought rippled through her mind, to be put away but not forgotten.

If she was a lion, he was a trophy hunter.

[melancholydreadfuldream]

shattered and hollow

Fandom: Doctor Who

Summary: You hated the Doctor and so you joined his enemy.

 Warning: ooc, some angst, plot holes, weak plotline, mention of abuse, suicide, death, etc

      You were on your knees on the floor, handcuff around your wrists as you stared blankly at nothing as everyone around you spoke louder at each other trying to decide a fitting punishment for your crime. At one point, they even talked to you but you ignored them.

  You had lose...again. He, you thought with disdain, had won again. The Doctor. The bane of your existence. Just thinking about him already made you want to puke or maybe that because you are currently unwell after being imprisoned and starved for a few days.

  The only saving grace of your current situation was you no longer need to pretend to love the Doctor in his human form, John Smith. You no longer need to endure his touches. 

  You hated yourself though for failing your mission from the Kovarian Chapter. At the beginning, they recruited you for your grudge against the Doctor. You were trained to be soldier and you are quite good at it. 

  You were hoping that the Kovarian Chapter will succeed in killing the Doctor but of course that didn't happen.

  You were tasked to watch over John Smith. You had no idea that he is actually the Doctor in human form. You might be part of Kovarian Chapter but you are only a foot soldier so when they tasked you with important task to watch over John, you accepted. Had you known his real identity, you would have killed him on the spot.

  You were seven years old when you first met the Doctor. You found out he was at his ninth incarnation at the time. He was responsible for the downfall of your parents. He set in motion a rebellion against your parents, causing their death at the hands of the angry mob. He was 'liberating' the people and then just flew away in his Tardis, not caring about what happened afterward or what happened to you, the young daughter of the family most hated by the people.

You were suffering in the mercy of the people who hated your parents. You were starved and abused and was made a slave as a punishment regardless you were just an innocent child. To the people, you got to live happily before while they were miserable so they are returning the favour tenfold.

  You cried a lot and hating everyone around you but you somehow able to survive through the years solely with a thought to someday get revenge on the Doctor.

  It was when you are sixteen years old, you were able to escape your tormenters. You live on the street until the church found you and offered you a better life and a chance of revenge.

  You were blinded by the offer of revenge that you accepted their offer without a thought of the consequence. You can hardly regret it since they gave you a slightly better life than before.

  It was there you met the Kovarian Chapter's little princess, little Melody Pond. You were told to keep watch of her. It was easy enough. Melody is a polite and quiet child. Eventually she started talking to you and found out a common ground that the Doctor ruined both of your life. According to Melody, the Doctor took her parents away from her too.

  You grew fond of Melody. You felt bad for her though because despite being called princess, Melody had to endure a much more harsh training even more than you and she was just a kid. She was seven years old, the same age as you when you lost your parents.

  You grew close with her as her caretaker and guardian but Madam Kovarian frowned upon your friendship which is seen as a hindrance for Melody's training. As a result, you were taken away to do a different duty.

  You were worried for Melody but keep your head down for fear being kicked out of the church and losing the chance to get revenge.

  Years later, you were tasked to watch over and insert yourself on the life of one John Smith. You were told to 'use your feminine wiles and more', whatever it takes to ensure John gets attached with you.

  When you found out that John actually the Doctor, you felt sick. You felt like you are being played. But your handler told you that you were actually being put with the greatest advantage to hurt the Doctor. John is wrapped around your fingers after all. They wanted to ensure John will never be able to get his real identity back nor will he want to when the time come...for your sake.

  Before knowing who John really is, you were actually torn with your developing feeling for him, that you might ended up catching real feeling for him. But after you knew the truth, your hatred for the Doctor resurfaced and how can you love this bastard, the face-changer, anymore? You can't.

  Your handler adviced to endure it and continue to pretend.

  But the Doctor's companion is very persistant in trying to rescue him.

  Your job is to make sure John stay attached with you and you thought you done well. Apparantly not. John noticed the change in you in regard of him. Despite you trying to distract him by marrying him and settle into a fake marriage life with him, he still ended up meeting his companion and somehow got his time lord conciousness returned to him.

  You were hunted by Torchwood under the name of the Doctor. You were rescued by Melody. You didn't recognize her. She was a young teenager with dark skin. She recognized you though and a bit protective of you.

  That was when you found out Melody is half-time lord like the Doctor. Melody looked a bit insecure after the revelation, it was almost like she was afraid of your reaction.

  "Do you hate me now?" Melody asked.

  "I could never hate you, Melody."

  She beamed at you. "Mels. Call me Mels."

  You smiled softly at her.

  Unfortunately you got orders to return to play victim in the hope to still be able to play on the Doctor's, no, John's feeling for you. You were very reluctant.

  Melody adviced you if or when you get caught, you should surrender to their will and plead guilty. She will then figure out a way to rescue you. But you are not stupid or naive. To Melody, you might be important. To the church, you are a loose end. You know it will only a matter of time before they try to get rid of you. Melody must have known too, that's why she told you secretly to run whenever you can.

  You realized now why Melody got the status 'princess' within the church. She is their ultimate secret weapon against the Doctor.

  You hated the Doctor but you have mixed feeling for John. But it is no longer matter, isn't it? John is gone now. There is only that man. And you wished for nothing but the Doctor's destruction.

  You hope Melody will be able to make that man suffer.

  You were caught and imprisoned where you were on trial on the crime you commited in order to ensure John is never found out. Obviously you failed.

  You hated these people who regarded the Doctor as their savior, their protecter and friends to some. You wished you could kill the Doctor so called friends if only to ensure the Doctor suffer from their loss just as you suffered the loss of your parents.

  As you waited for the final judgement, you didn't fight back but you didn't plead guilty either. You didn't feel guilty, you convinced yourself. You did it all in order to ensure the Doctor's destruction.

  You knew that your parents were not good people but they were still your parents and you love them. The Doctor took them away from you and left you to rot. Just as he did now.

  You chuckled harshly.

  You were slapped for what they called insolent. You didn't care about what they said to you and they were furious for not getting the reaction they are expecting.

  You didn't expect the sound of wheezing Tardis or for the blue box to materialized just outside the room. The Doctor dressed as himself now entered the room confidently.

  You were shaking, not in fear, but in rage when you saw him. You wanted to kill him. He might have different face from the man you met when you were a child and he might be wearing the face of John, your almost lover, but he is now the Doctor. You could see it, that arrogance of the same time lord who cursed your childhood.

  From the way he look at you, he has not figured out your true identity yet. He glanced at you with almost dark look with a tad of...fondness?

  He moved to talk with your judges. You glared at his back but you couldn't hear what they were discussing. He has a very serious look, one the church will says the look of the oncoming storm as he threaten them with just a few words.

  Next thing you know, they decided to release you into the Doctor's care.

  Your eyes widened in disbelief. You glanced up at the Doctor who is now standing in front of you, staring at you without words.

  "No." You whispered hoarsely. "No." You repeated louder. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

  The Doctor gave you a flat look. "You don't have a choice, wife." 

  You flinched at that.

  "I know you are acting under orders. I just haven't figure out who yet. You will tell me who made you do this." 

  "No one made me do this. I do this on my own free will, Doctor." You spatted. "You still haven't figure out who I really am, have you?" You glared at him in fury as you named the planet and the years your parents died.

  The Doctor frowned before his eyes widened. His mouth dropped open. "I'm so sorry." He replied solemnly, eyes filled with guilt.

  You sneered. "Sorry? You think everything can be fixed with that stupid word?"

  "Take off her handcuff." The Doctor suddenly said.

  You were taken aback by the order. Everyone in the room also confused by the Doctor's order.

  "Now." The Doctor repeated.

  "We agreed to release her to you in a few days, Doctor."

  "Now." The Doctor kept repeating that words as he glanced at them.

  They finally obeyed him and moved to release your handcuff.

  You glared at him but refused to move from your spot on the floor.

  "Don't make this hard on yourself, (name)." The Doctor said. He raised his hand toward you.

  "No." You firmly said as you glared still at him.

  He sighed as he pinched his nose in exasperation.

  As he moved aside, you saw a silent figure on the corner of the room. When you saw the figure in dark suit staring at you with its fathomless eyes, you suddenly knew what you have to do.

  You slowly stood up, not taking your eyes off the silence.

  The Doctor walked toward the Tardis before turning to you. "Come on, (name)."

  You took your eyes off the silence and obediently moved toward the Doctor but at the last minute, you suddenly attacked one of the officers and grabbed his gun. You hit him with the gun before turning to point the gun at the Doctor.

  "(name), please just drop the gun." The Doctor pleaded. "Just drop it and get inside the Tardis."

  You scoffed at him. "And be your prisoner? Go to hell, Doctor." You cursed him before you suddenly pulled the gun on yourself.

  "No!" The Doctor yelled as he moved to stop you.

  As your fingers moved to pull the trigger, your eyes hovered toward the silence. You swallowed as you thought of silent apologies toward Melody for not fighting to survive. But you also know your death will serve to fuel her anger toward the Doctor.

  That is what the Silence asked of you. If your death will help Melody to destroy the Doctor, then so be it. Distinctly you wondered if this is Kovarian's plan all along, letting you met Melody, be her only friend back then, making you important enough to her to warrant her anger and grief toward your death.

  You pulled the trigger just as the Doctor reached out toward you with a heartbreaking scream. Melody Pond, you better give him hell for this, you thought.

  You fell on his arms as he clutched your body and cried for you. Huh, look at that... I made him suffer a loss after all, you thought weakly before the darkness overwhelm you.

   A/N: Originally I planned to write dark!doctor forcing his fugitive wife inside his tardis for interrogating and stuff but somehow after reading GC I joined, I ended up inserting a bit of Melody Pond and somehow it takes turn into a darker turn with the reader choose that ending.

Maybe someday I will write the version I intended in the first place. So, this piece is short and weak but oh well...

[aristocracyabacus]

Do Blue Light Filter Apps Really Work?

Individuals are as of now seeing PC screens or cell phones for a few hours reliably. Every one of the mechanized contraptions we use dependably ooze blue light, a high-energy short-wave light that we are routinely acquainted with for the term of the day.

Blue light isn't just made through state of the art gadgets, yet from things like fluorescent and LED light bulbs to daylight. Standard openness to blue light filter isn't entirely masterminded to our thriving: high-energy blue light can unequivocally impact your point of view and energy, and even assistance you with thinking considerably more unmistakably.

In any case, it is the rehashed significant length openness to blue light through our computerized gadgets that can start to negatively impact your success in a gathering of ways, some of which can cause irreversible underhandedness.

With the extent of blue light straightforwardness you get dependably, through standard and phony light, it has become fundamental to ensure your eyes while utilizing advanced contraptions.

So what applications are best for light filtering, and do they offer sufficient attestation? Continue to look at to see whether blue light filter applications truly work.

Why Is Blue Light Bad?

Short-wave blue light is conveyed from PC and automated contraption screens that can cause or add to a development of diseases.

The pixilated spread out nature of pictures and words on a screen requires the eyes to work altogether harder to concentrate, subsequently, zeroing in on the eyes. There are various ailments, from minor aggravations to critical issues, that can be joined to the hours we spend taking a gander at screens.

Dry eyes, blurred vision, cerebral pains, rest mishap, and deficiency are ordinarily related issues that fall under the umbrella of PC vision issue (CVS), regardless called "modernized eye strain." Eye strain is clearly conceivable even from long scenes of examining routinely printed material, in any case, it happens significantly more quickly when utilizing screens.

In any case, utilizing a contraption for two or three hours step by step can trigger CVS, which can wreck different spaces of the body, including neck and shoulder strain.

Problematic issues like melatonin disrupting impact, which can quell your retention in light of confused rest, and incredibly age-related macular degeneration (AMD) can happen. Regardless of whether AMD is unmistakably connected with the expansion in blue light is now being thought of, yet it's reasonable there is underhandedness to the eyes from significant length responsiveness.

Getting Your Eyes

It is persistently clear that the over the top extent of time we spend taking a gander at the PC and other gadget screens is destructive to our flourishing. So how might we ensure our eyes?

There are various blueprints, including screen filters, applications, and PC glasses.

Screen Filters

With screen filters, you can add-on a screen-ensuring filter to the front of your contraption that filters out blue and UV light. This is a fundamental method to filter light on the off chance that you essentially utilize basically a single gadget. Regardless, on the off chance that you utilize unmistakable devies, you'll need to buy a mix of sizes and styles for each kind of screen.

The drawback of screen filters is that they can regularly mutilate text and pictures, which winds up adding to mechanized eye strain. This isn't the best impact.

Filter Apps

There are distinctive cell and PC applications that cover or "filter" blue light by moving the disguising tone of what is on the screen to additional sizzling pieces of the arrive at like yellow, orange, or red. While these applications do reduce a piece of the light that is communicated by the display, they are not absolutely down to earth and give better security when utilized related to light filtering glasses.

Further, similar to screen filters, they can actuate electronic eye strain by reducing qualification and disfiguring the true thought of what is shown on the screen making it get a yellow, orange, or red sheen, making it hard for the eyes to center.

Most contraptions go with something like a crucial, innate application thus, yet you should attempt to see how to best use and change them (and really turn them on) to acknowledge their prizes. By temperance of the way wherein they decline independent and damage screen tone, blue light filter applications are usually planned for evening and evening use so that eyes are permitted to fittingly relax up as they commonly would during these hours. Since various individuals depend after seeing authentic nature and difference for the work they do on their general gadgets they are not overall the best affirmation choice for critical PC clients.

Well known Apps

Applications may hiding the screen frightfully, or cause pictures or text to show up less clear than without an application, yet can offer some degree of insistence.

Here is a rundown of likely the most famous light filtering applications.

Blue light Filter by Aristocracy:

Night Shift is related with all Apple gadgets and is an essential procedure to ordinarily or really change the screen for light filtering. A few clients have revealed tendency less eye fatigue while utilizing the application. The disadvantage is this is a cutoff that is suggested uniquely for Apple contraptions, and it doesn't filter light constantly, so your straightforwardness can in any case make and could cause hurt.

Night Mode

Night Mode is the Android-functional, correspondingly covered up limit, to Night Shift on the Apple gadget. Incredibly, it is kept away from all models of Android telephones. In the event that you can't feel that it is on your gadget, try Blue light Filter eye protector, which permits an initiation timetable and seven unprecedented shades of tone.

Twilight

Twilight is an Android-based application that typically changes the screen's filtering dependent upon your space. You can set inclinations yourself, or utilize the regularly applied default screening once you enter where you are. It's generally attracted and intended to address evening screen rehearses that can interfere with getting genuine trust the proof justify itself, so in the occasion that you're worried about eye strain from daytime use, this may not be remarkable.

F.lux

F.lux is likely the best free, eminent application that changes your display to a more regular covering reach, and changes from daytime to evening hours. You would custom have the choice to set the amicability to various occasions of day, or utilize the default settings to improve on it. F.lux deals with a wide course of action of gadgets, including Apple, and Android. F.lux comparably utilizes the disguising change approach which is a far unrivaled methodology than the hiding overlay approach utilized by most light filter applications. However the two procedures seem to lessen a similar extent of blue light, the hiding overlay will by and large from an overall perspective decrease show contrast inciting eye strain.

Iris

Iris is another well known, simple to-utilize application for light filtering. The fundamental application is free, yet the guaranteed excessive different things go with the paid varieties, including limitless blue light control, break updates and clocks you can set, with a wide extent of upsetting decisions you can modify.

Are Blue Light Filter Apps Enough?

While these and other filtering applications offer an answer, the applications alone are not persuading enough to defeat eye issues related with blue light straightforwardness. The staining and bowing accomplished by these applications can make fundamentally more eye strain than review screens with no applications set up.

For instance, LED light gives the backlight to your contraptions and unites both white and blue light; applications don't filter out these waves and are best utilized similarly as filtering glasses.

One more factor to note is that straightforwardness during evening hours isn't restricted to that conveyed by electronic contraptions. Glaring light can convey similarly so a ton, if not more hazardous light than cells, PCs, and TV screens. Light filtering applications can't shield your eyes from all wellsprings of blue light and aren't satisfactory to guarantee your flourishing.

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[hes-writer]

The Other Woman II

Summary: Harry and Y/N are both famous, he cheats while he’s on tour and the media has a field day

Warnings: angst and mentions of smut

Word Count: 2.9k

When Y/N woke up the next morning, she should’ve felt refreshed considering that she got more than eight hours of sleep, but instead, her body folded in on itself from exhaustion. She shook to herself, partly angry because today was supposed to be a good day, this week was supposed to be productive and she was supposed to be happy—but she wasn’t and it was all because of Harry. Her bones cracked when she stretched her arms out in the open, feeling the empty space of Harry’s side of the bed, cold and desolate from their home.

Her phone buzzed on the dresser, vibrating against the wood repeatedly indicating that notification after notification entered through the system and that people were reaching out for her. For what, she didn’t know but Y/N lethargically reached for the rose gold device, hand tingling from the buzzing.

Turning the phone on, she was met with updates from all her social media apps: Twitter, Instagram and even messages from her mom managed to get in on the party. Using her fingerprint, her phone unlocked showcasing her screen saver of Harry and Bell when they were in Japan over the New Years. Her heart palpitated slightly, hands shaking for the reminiscence of last night.

When she opened Twitter, the top trending hashtag was “#Y/NandHarryAreOverParty” and she furrowed her brows. She may have been out of it at the moment, but she would definitely remember breaking up with her goddamn boyfriend. Suspicion arises in her body, creating an inner turmoil as to whether or not she was prepared to see public evidence of his actions. Her thumb hovered over the base, breathing getting heavier from the nervousness of what she was to see.

The first blurry picture in the thread was of a woman leaving a hotel room—presumably Harry’s. How the fans got up there with security, Y/N could not even comprehend, but that’s beside the fact that a literal woman was seen leaving his private room. She swiped, the photo was a little clearer than the last and Y/N could see that the woman on her phone was wearing a t-shirt and leggings. Except it wasn’t just any shirt, it was Harry’s ‘Dream Boat’ shirt adorning her petite frame and she scoffed at his audacity. And she really wished that this was all dream. Was he that careless? This could ruin his reputation, Y/N stopped herself from dwelling on Harry’s–possibly–deteriorating career because even after all he had done; the cheating, lying and betrayal, she still had the nerve to care for him when he so obviously did not return the feeling. The rest was of the woman walking in the hallway, keeping her head down when she saw people and making her way into the elevator. Smart.

lovie

“morning”

Y/N rolled her eyes upon seeing the preview of the message. So now he texts her. She ignored the message, figuring that he’d give up easily anyway, just like how he threw away a year’s worth of trust.

————

She arrived at the studio, not at all ready to act as if nothing was happening with her very public relationship, but it seemed that everyone caught news of Harry’s suspicious activities because as soon as she walked in, the receptionist had given her a small wave and a sympathetic smile even before she had the chance to adjust to the light. Not only that, but her fellow songwriters spoke to her as if she was too fragile and would break any second. Speaking to her softly and quietly as to not disturb her of her morose mood.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you doing?” Linda, a songwriter, asked her. Her hand was situated on Y/N’s shoulder, rubbing gently back and forth, comforting her.

“I’m fine, thanks. And you?”

It was a simple answer but it held a massive truth. Yes, she was hurt and maybe she’s on the verge of bursting into tears in a roomful of her closest colleagues but she was fine. She was fine because she knew that after this, it was going to be okay. She wasn’t sure how she will react when–or if–Harry decides to confront her about this, if they’ll work through it together like they always do or if they’ll give up on a special love that they’d found. She didn’t know if she was capable of forgiving him or if she was ready to let go of him. She was confused, but she was fine.

Once the paper was in front of her and then pen was gripped tightly in her hand, the ink seemed to flow smoothly on the notepad, no hints of pauses or doubts of hesitation of whether or not that certain verse made sense. Y/N poured out her feelings onto paper; the pain she was feeling manifesting from deep within her and ripped out by the calming activity of songwriting. Her current thoughts being objectively put on something that other people can see made the unfortunate event more profound. At least in her head, she can pretend that it was just her hyperactive imagination conjuring up insane thoughts. But when the words stared right back at her, she was haunted by Harry’s promises, things he’d taken into heart and she believed him because she cared and loved him too much.

Her emotions flowed out of her in destructing waves forcing her hand to move slower than her mind implemented ideas, her penmanship going from readable to scrawled scribbles trying to get everything out before she loses it from her short-term memory. But Y/N doesn’t think she ever will. Being cheated on was kind of normal for her, somehow her partners always found someone prettier, more talented and better and it has affected her negatively; that’s not something that you can brush off like it means nothing. That’s why she was hesitant about letting Harry in especially with his reputation but she never really paid attention to that. Regardless, it took some time for them to get together officially because of her hesitance but he was persistent and he waited for until she was ready; she was grateful for that.

What she didn’t appreciate was that he single-handedly decided to forgo their relationship and attend to his needs first without consulting her. Not to say that Y/N would be okay with him fucking somebody else, but she’d surely take matters into her own hands and fly to him. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, it would be good for them. She can’t even do that though, because she didn’t know if he’d be happy to see her and vice versa. New ideas flooded her brain, and before she knew it, her pen was agitatedly scratching the paper hard enough to tear the page she was on. The tip of the ink-filled instrument bleeding through the wispy page when she hardened her grip against it, anger and betrayal coursing through her. She was past the stage of confusion because now she knows his true intentions. He didn’t feel connected to her anymore and this was his way of showing it. Secretive or not, she didn’t know how long this has been going on, if it was just a slip-up, or if he carelessly did so because he didn’t care if she found out because he didn’t care anymore.

At the moment, nobody could stop Y/N from thinking such negative thoughts; she didn’t didn’t know who to believe anymore because the one person she trusted with her entire heart turned their back on her and she was left with no one.

“Y/N, Y/N! Stop!” The voice called out to her, muffled and diluted, the rush of voices echoing in her head muting the harsh shout of concern directed at her.

She realized she was crying, then. The pigment of the ink dispersing through the material when her tears pampered the page. The dot of her i’s alluding with a slight halo. She looked up from her lap seeing pairs of eyes looking at her with sympathy and she didn’t want that. She wanted to be loved but that was once again lost. She didn’t want them worrying about her, she didn’t want any of it. She just wanted Harry.

————

Harry woke up the following day well rested. He could feel the bite of his scratches rubbing against the coarse material of the hotel sheets making him wince. He lifted his heavy head up, seeing that Jessa wasn’t beside him anymore and that his left arm was a bit numb. He sat up on the bed, noticing that it was only his items that were present in his room.

He had a show today but before that, he had to do the contents of his day; like working out and sound checking, possible sight-seeing and then he was off to meet the best fans in the world. He was shirtless, he noticed that in midst of walking to the bathroom to freshen up, the cool air of the air conditioner raising goosebumps on his skin. He must’ve taken it off in the middle of the night.

Harry decided to be productive and make his own bed despite the knowledge that room service will probably do a better job than him. He found himself hastily searching for his Dream Boat shirt which was in Jessa’s hold, unbeknownst to him.

When he strode in the hotel gym, he could see fans sneakily taking photos of him. He had a sixth sense for that kind of stuff, it was more refined when he and Y/N began seeing each other but did not want the paps to know about them. But when he passed by a group, making a point to only wave and smile since he was running a bit behind on his schedule, one statement caught his ears.

“When did you and Y/N break up!?”

He froze, his right leg turning him around immediately facing the crowd of girls. Break up? What?

“Can you repeat what you said?” Harry asked, curious as to why someone would say this. He had a feeling why, but he was too careful to make sure that Y/N nor anyone would find out.

“Did you guys break up? There was another girl photographed leaving your hotel room,” He could hear blood swooping through his eardrums, though it could just be his heart starting to beat loudly.

Murmurs of ‘yeah’ repeated itself by the whole flock. The girl closest to him faced her phone to him, allowing him to see the alleged pictures. And there it was, Jessa, leaving his room dressed in the shirt that he couldn’t find.

“Isn’t that your shirt, Harry?”

He wanted to nod yes, he wanted to speak, he wanted to be able to do anything but he couldn’t because he swore that he just replayed his life before his eyes. Not only was his tryst exposed to Y/N, but it was revealed to the whole world. No doubt would the media have a field day. I mean, how often does a pop superstar make headlines for cheating on his famous girlfriend. He was toast with his publicist, they’re probably trying to find a way to get him out of the grave he dug for himself, cleaning his mess when he should take a stand and admit that he was wrong.

“Oh my god, Y/N’s was papped leaving the studio crying,”

Harry snapped his head toward the sound of the voice, demanding to see the pictures; only being taken minutes ago but with the power of sharing, it was in real time for him.

There was a video, too, of Y/N walking briskly, keeping her head down and with the help of her oversized sunglasses, he felt a clench in his chest because behind those barriers he knew that she had cried. That she found out and she was hurt. To think that he even sent a good morning text must’ve rendered him a jerk to her because instead of apologizing, he acted as if everything was alright, despite all the things happening while he was asleep.

——

During the concert, he was out of focus. He kept missing notes left and right, he wasn’t on the beat and he barely interacted with the people who came to see him. He had somehow forgotten the proper chords for the correct songs and he couldn’t help but let his voice crack and waver during ‘From the Dining Table’; a song about his ex breaking his heart and now it was a song about him breaking someone else’s.

Leaving the stage, he walked slowly to his dressing room, afraid that Jessa would be present again. He left his door wide open hoping that if anything were to happen, Mitch would be able to knock some sense into him. Everything he did was sluggish, Y/N hadn’t reached out to him for the whole day or sent him any cute dog pictures; that’s when he knew it was bad. He wasn’t saying that the whole situation wasn’t bad, but this is definitely the worst thing he’s ever done to her and he might not even get a chance to reprise himself.  His phone misses her call.

——

Y/N sat on her home office chair, laptop open to an airline website. It took her some time to gain the courage to even touch the device again knowing that it was where she had first caught him. She had already booked a ticket to see Harry weeks prior and now, she wasn’t sure if she should cancel it or fly anyways. Confrontations were never her forté, but she felt something burning within her. It wasn’t rage or anger, she knew that. But it was keeping her on her toes, wanting Harry to feel how she feels. Her plan wasn’t to humiliate him or get revenge, no—she wanted him to see her raw emotions. Undiluted and powerful to make him hurt as much as she was.

She was going to do it. Y/N packed her bags and got her trusty neighbor to water their plants while she was away. She opted for two weeks, in case they work it out or in case they didn’t.

——-

A knock sounded on Harry’s door, interrupting his moping and feeling sorry for himself for losing the one thing he treasured. The door handle twisted and he opened the door to reveal Y/N. He immediately took a step aside, urging her to enter the room. She only had one bag with her.

It was an awkward silence. The only thing they’ve to each other was a simple ‘hello’. She eyed the bed, wondering if he had done it with her there too.

“I’m guessing you saw the pictures,”

“You think?”

He gulped at her tone, feeling anxious about what was to happen

“I’m sorry,”

She nodded indicating that she heard him but made no move to accept it.

He cleared his lumpy throat, “You can ask anything,”

“I figured I have the right,” It was curt and short, though she shed no tears.

“Okay, I guess I’ll start. I’m sorry Y/N,” He looked up to find her eyes for added sincerity, only almost piss his pants when she was staring straight at him. Gaze burning across his whole being while Y/N prided herself in being strong.

“I just … don’t know what happened. She came into my dressing room one night and I let her touch me and I shouldn’t have but I did,” A sob ripped through his throat, strangling his words. “Only you should’ve touched me that way. Only you,”

Y/N felt her front caving in from the force of his words. The sincerity behind them was so powerful that even she couldn’t deny how he spoke them wholeheartedly. 

“Why did you do it?”

“It was so stupid of me. I’m such an idiot, I shouldn’t ha–,”

“Why did you do it, Harry?”

“B-because I was lonely,”  He hung his head in shame. He would’ve been furious with Y/N if she used that excuse on him.

“Let me guess, and I wasn’t there?” He nodded regretfully. 

“You should’ve told me. I could’ve been there for you, you didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to ruin us”

He sobbed harder, the reality hitting him square in the face. Each second was more proof that their relationship was combusting in flames and he’d do anything to salvage what was left of it.

“I know it’s a long shot, but I’m really sorry,” She completely ignored his statement, opting to get what she really came here for.

“I wrote a song about you,”

His eyes widening at her confession. They always dedicated songs to each other but this time, he could tell that it was different.

“I want to sing it in a week’s time,” Harry instantaneously nodded at her request muttering an ‘of course’ about three times. “At your concert,”

“I want your whole family there: Anne and Gemma, I want the boys there,” Although he was confused, there was no way that he would reject Y/N now, especially since he did kind of owe her. “I want that woman there,” —————-

oooo what do you think she’s gonna (what do you wanna see LOL)

kinda had a writer’s block near the end and I’m not really proud of this one

shoot me a message or drop smth in my inbox if you like it! ❤️😄

@tvdplusriverdale @littledreamybeth @miscll-fangirl @mickmoon @trumpettay @ynm1505 @pxrrishly @harryspirate @kissme-hs @darkwolfpeanutskeleton

[heroinkspots]

Catharsis; Aizawa / Reader

SUMMARY ( You knew the man you loved could die. You were certain you had accepted it, had moved on from the constant anxiety that makes heroes insomniacs. But when you visit Aizawa in the hospital post-USJ Incident, you’re smacked with the reality there are some losses you can’t help but dread, yet zero you can prevent. )

One finger down.

Breathe.

Two fingers.

Breaking News: Erasure Hero Gets Critically Injured in USJ Aftermath, Current Condition Unknown!

Up next on Channel 86: at five o'clock, Dr. Oishi Hotaka and Dr. Yasuda Kurou broadcast live to discuss the recent developments about the USJ Incident and the repercussions for hero society going forward.

Three.

"I respect your opinion on this matter, Kurou-san, but I personally don't believe Japan can continue with the current status quo! UA's safety standards have declined dramatically in the past few decades, and their negligence will go on for as long as the public and the parents of these students allow it- which, I dare say, won't be long at all. Not long at all, my friend. We'll soon see that what we're giving these children, in UA and across the country in similar hero academies, is a subpar education, with more risks than benefits..and the most horrifying of these risks now includes the potential of their life being stolen from them at fifteen, sixteen years old."

”Well, that signals the end of our slot for tonight, viewers! Join us here next week for a live conference meeting of—"

F..four.

That announcer was right. He was scarily right. Civilians could turn off their television should they be the smallest bit uncomfortable while they were watching their heroes sacrifice their sanity, their every selfish human desire and sometimes even their lives to protect the masses that watcher belonged to.

To them, Shota was a headline. He was a vague concept, a will 'o wisp leading them home to a sense of safety, but he couldn't be felt with the hands nor seen with the eyes nor experienced with the heart. He was so underground you doubted they could recall his name without having it spoonfed to them by another copycat, know-it-all Dr. Oishi Hotaka reading off a script designed to spark outrage instead of reasonable thought. Introspection didn't sell well. Introspection didn't toss TV show hosts intriguing material to cover and it didn't grant jobs to reporters.

The truth was a bitter pill nobody liked to swallow. And if citizens didn't like the truth, they'd switch to a different channel to hear white noise that tasted good; and the Hotakas couldn't afford that, could they?

Five fingers you'd used up.

He had broken thirteen separate bones–nearly a third of the fingers you'd used so far for this stupid counting exercise. You had heard a summary of the damage from his doctors prior to standing where you stood now, and you had memorized it like a prayer of thanksgiving.

Shota couldn't be hurt if he was dead. Only a living man had the privilege of suffering pain. And dead..dead was your worst nightmare. The imaginary picture of his cold corpse made crippling injury seem like a reverie of inconceivable fortune in comparison.

Six.

Crushed orbital floor, fractured clavicle, nasal fracture, parietal bone oblique fractures, severe left elbow fractures (segmental break in his humerus bone, fractures half as destructive in his radius and ulna), one direct skull fracture—

Thirteen bones, thirteen of your fucking failures.

Seven.

You knew not to overreact. That was why you and Shota had gotten along brilliantly to begin with. You weren't a clingy partner who longed to ensure he was safe to your exacting requirements, but a fellow hero in his stead, laser-focused on furthering your ambitious climb to the top and holding down your position within the twenties once you had garnered your status. You respected him and how obviously reserved he could be, embracing his trepidation about placing himself in the spotlight as a virtue instead of a flaw..and for that, mutual respect bloomed into love in your second year of UA.

You and him had persevered because you were identically persevering personalities. You solved your arguments fairly and calmly, you conceded to his wishes and him to yours, crafting compromises and tempering spots of flickering flame before they could graze gasoline. You took pride in the fact that you knew the consequence of your professions, and you were willing to take his loss with his love.

Your logic couldn't have prepared you for USJ.

Shota Aizawa, that quiet, seemingly stern and uncaring, infuriating, loyal and self-sacrificing son of a bitch hadn't just gone out and danced with Death; he'd preformed a suspiciously intimate tango with her, gotten her number, invited her out for drinks and kissed her on the mouth when their date concluded.

And there was little logic to be found in the strong Pro Hero reduced to incomprehensible sobbing and bawling in the hospital breakroom mere minutes earlier.

Eight.

You'd cried so heavily you had to muffle your mouth with your sweater so passing staff wouldn't be alerted to the sounds of your emotional breakdown. Feeling that fabric grow damp and sticky with the flood of your agonized tears, the humilation stung at you, but it was faint and trivial when measured against the surge of your dominant emotions: anger–anger at yourself, anger at the villains who would target and hunt children purely to force a pathway to All Might, anger at this world which normalized casualty and tragedy; fear that this was the beginning of the so-called Villain League's attacks and that Shota, and by extension, you, would be at the forefront of countless battles; and the knowledge that your Pro license didn't do a damn thing for you.

Could you genuinely label yourself a Hero if you couldn't save your lover of a decade?

It wasn't a lack of faith on your behalf, or you discounting his abilities–you were aware of his skill. You saw how he built himself up to be the highly specialized, skilled Eraserhead; but regardless of how formidable the person, you would pity the unfortunate soul who had the might of Hell and high water bearing down on their head.

You would pity yourself in that situation too.

Nine. Last finger to put down.

You had counted so you could collect yourself, present a solid face to Shota when you finally entered his room, but your efforts were in vain. Your eyes were damp again, and you rubbed them furiously on your sleeve, the irritated rims puffing out from the blood rushing to your temple. Shota's voice rang out- you were effectively busted.

"Come in."

The abruptness made you release a watery chuckle. The recovery room's observation window was advertised as being "one-way," as if that would hinder your lover's keen perception of his surroundings. His demonstration of sharpness eased your concerns to a degree. After all, dead bodies were usually less talkative and dumber than he was being..but you wanted to, no, needed to see him desperately.

"I came as soon as I heard what happened." Your voice shook when your gaze locked with his, peering through the stiff bandaged cast at you, one eyelid firmly shut and quivering with the other parted lazily and projecting an unshakable confidence in your direction. Shota's resolve wasn't frigid indifference but rather reliability, a slowly seeping warmth you could fall back on whenever standing by yourself felt impossible. He looked at you as if you were the wounded party between the pair of you, as if he could tell you wanted to run and he was convincing you you didn't have to–because his relentless determination would stay permanently untouched, and so would he. Unchanging, reassuring.

"But I was already on the plane when I received the news, so I..dammit, I was helpless. I..I just sat there, Shota. Sat there and watched as the headlines rolled in, as the media scrambled for some coherent information to pump out. I sat there for an awful twelve hours– that's how much time it took me to get a one-stop plane ride back to Japan and land. And by then, USJ was completely cleared of people. I heard you were in the hospital and had to track you down out of all the fucking confidential hero hospitals you could potentially be in." You balled your fists in your hair, working a dent into the floor beneath you from your agitated pacing.

You nervously glanced at him before averting your eyeline to the walls. Shame curled within you. "I had no idea where you were located, whether you were dead or injured or comatose," you whispered weakly.

Shota cleared his throat, and although it was dry, scratchy and emerged mainly as a pained gurgling bursting from his chest, your attention was on him anyway. Your head snapped towards him and you flinched as you saw him struggling to prop himself up in the bed. You rushed forward to help, but he fared on his own, evenutally pushing himself into a sitting position with the pillows for extra padding to keep him stable. He stared at you wordlessly, his mouth drawn taut in a frustrated, sad grimace until he patted the bed beside him for you to sit.

You agreed.

"We've had this conversation before, you know," he mumbled into your shoulder. You startled, your muscles jerking at the tickling sensation of his bandage wrap. That minute detail almost caused you to tumble into hysterics once more. Shit, it was annoying and the reflex was inconvenient, but it was a beacon of hope that you could be annoyed–the rubbing and tickling told you Shota's going to be okay since, look, you had the evidence of repair brushing against you to remind you. Persistently.

"We have?" You promoted him, nudging him with the gentleness you would save for a young child.

Shota sighed, puffing air through his nose, and sobered up fast; his demeanor returned to serious thoughtfulness as he straightened, his stature strangely close to traditional etiquette despite being bedridden. You waited in anticipation for him to gather himself and speak.

"We have. When we were twenty year olds rookies with brains thicker than concrete. I was dwelling on a mother and son I had failed to save in a rescue from months before. But it was you who told me– 'the past is worthless until you use it to improve your future, Aizawa, and it becomes worse than worthless when you allow it to impede your future. That mother and her little boy wouldn't want their memory to hold you back from becoming the hero I'm certain you can be. It's doing a disservice to them if you don't take advantage of those mistakes to avoid repeating them.'"

You froze. "Shota, that's not the same situation and you know it's not. I..goddammit, I was lost and confused in a foreign country fighting for a way to get back and I couldn't contact you, I couldn't figure out who made it through, you or the kids or All Might. Or Thirteen. There's a considerable disparity between that and immediate, subconscious mistakes you make in the field. That was no mistake-that was a gaping lack of oversight on my part. That was failure."

Shota raised his brow, unimpressed. "Fine, then. You failed.”

"So what?"

"So you become better for the sake of the people you believe you failed."

You felt like smacking your head against the bed frame. Him and his logical ruses, God. Never giving ground to you, but countering you with few words delivered concisely and setting you up to arrive at a preplanned destination but changing your course before you could catch up to where he'd cleverly spun the talk this round. You couldn't muster exasperation when you glared at him, however–your glare melted into fondness at the minuscule grin he wore and the overwhelming exhaustion and tenderness beneath his layer of amusement.

You were tired and hungry, Shota was tired and hungry, and you ached to hug him and refuse to let go forever.

You could start on attaining your ideal existence by filling your stomach.

"Hey, do you want food?" Affirmative grunt. "Would you like me to go get some?" Equally affirmative grunt. With his enthusiastic approval, you left his designated room and wandered throughout the hospital. It took longer than you would have supposed, but you came back to greet him with armfuls of instant ramen, oden, and sugary treats you bought solely to indulge yourself but tried to frame as 'purchases for two'.

"I brought you the fanciest cuisine they have avaliable in their vending machines," you said. Shota snorted as you dumped the packages across the visitor's chair and gently dropped into your place beside him on the bed, careful not to hit him or disturb his wounds.

Your hand wound up to the crown of his head, where your hand tangled into the strands of his hair, fingers squeezing the tangled mess it was. "Can I tempt you?" You muttered into his ear.

He hummed noncommitally, his lips quirking. "I trust you." You had to restrain yourself from smiling so wide that you scared off your quarry, a pleased smugness rising from how naturally and freely he delivered that.

His humming turned from casual to an evident sign of contentment as your faithful ministrations endured for a while. It wasn't quite normalcy with how you tucked the pads of your fingers in so they wouldn't grace his forehead and circled a cautious breadth around all regions of his face, but it was adequate to drive your fears into some rarely ventured corner of your mind to torture you at a later date.

Definitely became more adequate when Shota passed out draped on your form. He was slouching, his nose buried in the crook of your neck and his unharmed right hand motionless on your leg. When you shuffled subtly to get a nicer angle and actually see the wonderful sight you had achieved, he groaned in protest, and you couldn't find it in yourself to attempt to leave when he was smiling. Deviously soft, and oblivious to your judgment–he was smiling in his sleep.

Most who had to deal with him would deal with Aizawa, the hardass teacher or Aizawa, the workaholic who could be seen bent over his laptop at ungodly hours of morning and night grading papers and drafting reports for his principal. Some unlucky fools would be pursued by him and would be petrified when Eraserhead's eerie crimson irises fell upon them, stripping them of the controlled sense of superiority they clung to as their refuge.

But you knew a secret an extremely select few were privy to. You knew that his shell was dense and tough yet brittle, a personification of intimidating traits he adopted when they served him, and he was a bleeding heart for the victims of the world who couldn't fight for themselves, for those children he taught who had glinting stars inside them he would never permit to be stamped out.

And that was why you were terrified. Because you knew he was breakable.

[teratoscope]

Something that can cause many different mutations or curses or etc. in organisms it comes into contact with.

Engine ObscureOn your first day downwell, you sawa beetle turned on its back for the first time. You panicked at the flailing ofits legs, the hair on it you didn’t expect, and the sudden revelation of thesoft, vulnerable, complicated underbelly, all those parts you couldn’t name ordivine the function of. So you crushed it under your boot, which made you feelsicker. The sound it made, and the red-brown viscera, so muchmore of it than you expected. The longer you look, the closer you get, the worseit is and the deeper it invites you.It’s not your first day downwellanymore. You’ve seen a lot worse.Today, however, is the beetle allover again. The thing at the top of the pillar moves like it can’t decide if it’sa liquid or a ball of rutting snakes or the clacking limbs of a dying insect. Thetexture of its surface flows, solidifying in scabby islands of pitted verdigrisor whorls of bone; here a face resolves out of the chaos and mumblesmushmouthed prophecy.You can’t tell where it stops. Itputs out fractal feelers, and when you try to follow them they just lead youall over the room and under your skin. You feel a flex, hyphae in the skin ofreality twitching in unison, and when the spasm ends something has changed. Youfeel off-kilter, but you struggle to parse why. Instead you bring your rifle tobear—not bothering to use the scope, the last thing you need is a closer look—andyou notice it’s in your lefthand. And when your pace quickens, youfeel it on the right side of your chest.

HD 10 MV 60’ hover AC 12 AT liquid migraine tendril x2 (30’ reach, 2d6 psychic) Special corruptive referent, psi-pollutant, weirdwave

Corruptive referent—anyone speaking directly about anEngine Obscure while it is physically present has their language scrambled.Their words are unintelligible except to Occulters and other people whoselanguage has been scrambled. The effect ends with a proper night’s sleep.

Psi-pollutant—sleep is impossible within the sameoverland hex as an active Engine Obscure, and any effect that causes damage toInt, Cha, or Wis deals an additional point within this area of effect.

Weirdwave—an Engine Obscure releases aWeirdwave once every exploration turn and each time it takes 8 or more damagefrom a single source. The Weirdwave effects everything that has had line ofsight on it within the last exploration turn, forcing a Wis check. On a failure,roll once on the table below. After 2d3 days, the sufferer makes a Con check;on a failure, the effect is permanent.

Weirdwave Contamination

1.    Counter-alphabeticvector. Victim’s touch causes writing (regardless of medium) to warp intoillegible, tumorous glyphs. Causes 2d12 psychic damage to robots and othercoding-dependent entities. Ruins computers; networks have to be quarantined onexposure or risk a pandemic.

2.    Inscrutableorgan. Victim has a thing growing outof them. It migrates. Attempting to describe the thing causes headaches, nosebleeds, and an altered state ofconsciousness resembling a mild concussion in the case of intense scrutiny. Itposes no other significant inconvenience.

3.    Shadowglands. Victim’s presence lowers default level of illumination by one step‑brightlight becomes dim light, dim light becomes darkness, and in darkness lightsources exhaust twice as fast.

4.    Eyepox. Victim’s head blooms with unblinking supernumerary eyes. Cannot wearhelmets unless custom-made. Surprise rolls against the victim are always atdisadvantage.

5.    4-Ddislocation. One of the victim’s arms (determine randomly) bends at an anglethat does not exist in 3-dimensional space. With an exploration turn offinagling the victim can poke a hand back into visible space at a fixed pointup to 20’ away. This can reach into enclosed spaces, though the victim has tonavigate by touch alone if not assisted.

6.    Illuminatedgaze. Victim’s eyes glow candle-bright while conscious, providing natural lidar(treat as darkvision). Perception in this mode is purely topological; thevictim cannot read text unless it is raised or inscribed on a surface, and theycannot sense color.

7.    Confessorpolyp. Tumorous growth the size of a prize yam ending in a complete mouth,windpipe, and larynx picks an inconvenient place to grow on the victim. Duringany long rest, the confessor polyp strains to process its host’s toxic languagebuildup. The victim must choose to either voice the single thing they’ve mostavoided saying and/or least wanted other people to hear or take 1 point ofConstitution damage.

8.    Eideticdrift. No-one remembers the victim’s name correctly. Some feature of it remainsfixed across all variations, but no matter how many times they correct people,it’s not going to stick. The first time they meet someone, there is a 1 in 3chance they have false memories of having already met them—the victim must makea Charisma check to determine whether those false memories are favorable.

9.    Nemesispsycho-symbiote. The victim perceives a small homunculus-like creatureaccompanying them in their reflection. The homunculus has intimate knowledge ofthe victim’s inner thoughts, encyclopedic familiarity with most practicalskills, and a strong desire to pursue strange and often destructive projects inmaterial reality. Once per day, the victim may spend an exploration turnconferring with the homunculus over a single specific problem that warrants apractical solution. Afterwards, they spend the day acting as though they receivedtraining in the skills necessary to resolve the problem proportionate to theirlevel. This effect ends after a long rest; during the long rest, the symbiote commandeersthe victim’s body. It may use all the victim’s abilities, as well as everyskill set the victim has ever used the symbiote to act like they had.

10.  Ghost skin. Victim’s skin and fleshturn glutinous and murkily transparent, shedding and secreting layers like ahagfish. A strange inner glow seeps from within, dimly illuminating the victim’sbones and organs. They leave an obvious trail wherever they go. The victim may pushthemselves very slowly through solid matter as though they were incorporeal‑about10’ per exploration turn.

The EnginesObscure are the lynchpin of Occulter warfare. Every major Occulter beachheadfeatures an Engine Obscure positioned for optimal visibility, pumping out psychicchaff and maximizing exposure to its perceptual sporulation. To optimizeexposure, Occulter forces do a lot of levelling and clear-cutting around theirstrongholds—you know you’re in their territory when the terrain turns toblasted wasteland, all subtly inclining towards the spire in the distance whosetip spits squirming rainbow light into the upper atmosphere.

So long asthe Engines Obscure persist, the Occulter defensive line is borderlineimpossible to break from the ground. No extended campaign can be waged insidetheir territory from the ground, if only for fear of everyone involved comingcompletely unhinged. There’s a faction of Highguard young guns and diehard IronSaints who lobby hard in the war room for an extended space-to-ground siege,but for now the majority of Freestar One’s executive war council is wary ofescalating to aggressive bombardment strategies, especially against an enemy asbadly documented as the Occulters.

And badlydocumented they will likely remain, because the Engine Obscure resists study.When neutralized, they tend to collapse into wheezing point masses, leavingbehind only a greasy, ozone-smelling haze. They don’t show up well inrecordings, either; storage media containing images or video of an EngineObscure tend to deliquesce, spontaneously combust, or decay into piles of grayfluff. Research & Development still isn’t sure whether there are definitemechanical or biological underpinnings to their structure and operation,whether they’re autonomous or remote-operated, or even just how they’re made.

What is obvious is that they neatly encapsulatethe Occulter philosophy of engagement: they subvert before they destroy, assaultingself-concept, memory, and language but hardly ever killing outright. Out of allthe weapons of the Contact War, the Engine Obscure is perhaps the one made mostdeliberately to spare enemy lives.Arguably, from the Occulter perspective they may not even be weapons at all—itmay be more accurate to compare them to terraforming devices, albeit ones meantto alter the noosphere as much as the ecosphere.

FreestarOne xenologists remain deeply concerned about what this may say about theOcculters’ long-term priorities. Precisely what they want us alive for is woefully uncertain, but whateverit is, it’s almost certainly not agreeable to our quality of life.

[genes-construction-blog]

Rooftop Repair - Why Repair Your Roof After a Long Winter?

Each winter, your rooftop gets barraged with wind, day off, and persistent defrost solidify conditions. This can bring about serious and regularly concealed harm to the rooftop. Your rooftop would then be able to spill during spring months when the substantial downpours start. Without a rooftop fix registration and expected fixes to your rooftop, a surge of water can cause thousands in harms - harms that could have effectively been forestalled.

More established rooftops are particularly defenseless. Why? Since the shingles are as of now separated from long stretches of maltreatment from Mother Nature, and regardless of whether your rooftop has 5 or 10 additional long periods of guarantee life ahead, fixes to your rooftop are some of the time an absolute necessity to take full advantage of your rooftop. Rooftop fixes are frequently compulsory.

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Continuously be certain that a material organization playing out the rooftop fix check up glances in your home's upper room. The underside of your rooftop deck tells a colossal, precise story of everything that is going on your rooftop. Stains, rust where the nails are jabbing through the wood rooftop deck, water blemishes on the protection, wet protection, everything appears in the loft. Fixes are exact utilizing this strategy.

Your eave troughs likewise assume a significant job in any great spring rooftop fix adjust. Water can gather in the overhang because of stopped waste. At the point when water solidifies it grows and twists eave troughs rusty and out of position. Ice dams can likewise frame playing genuine destruction to wood and shingles. A decent rooftop fix adjust will check for and tackle the harm before it is past the point of no return.