#that would also help with continuing the project i started months ago and then stopped cause old content was so hard to access

[the-kipsabian]

i have always been completely sane about him idk what youre talking about

[midnight-mourning]

Sleigh Bells Ring (Are you Listening?)

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 16❄️❄️

Another cute fluffy fic for you all, what a surprise amiright? Anywho, really tried to capture the scenery with this one, personally a big fan of cold snowy winters mhm, and also kissing robots-WHAT WHO SAID THAT anywho, enjoy!

Prompt: Oouu bats my little eyelashes,,i have a request!!💥💥 i think going on a sleigh ride with the dca would be fun!!!

Word Count: 1796

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Your feet hit the floor with a quiet thump. You stretch, yawning as you check the time on your phone. Still early, but the smell of food cooking downstairs has made you wide awake.

You twist to look outside, seeing a white, rolling landscape looking back at you. You walk over to the window, putting your hand on the cool glass. There's a bit of snow still falling, not as hard as the past few days, but enough. 

When you first thought of the idea of returning to your family's old farmhouse all those months ago, you'd been hesitant. Mainly because you weren't sure how the attendant would react to such a stark contrast in environment compared to the Plex, and then your small cramped apartment. Two very different locations in terms of size, noise level, and population. 

However, after the devastation that was the fire, and the months of recovery that followed, you think a change of pace would be what was best for all of you. And, you were right. 

Both Sun & Moon had seemingly loved every minute of being on the farm, cleaning things up, taking care of the animals and the land, and so on and so forth. 

You walk downstairs, the old floorboards creaking with each step, the air getting just a little warmer as you enter the main floor. 

You spy Sun in the kitchen cooking breakfast. He turns to you as you enter. 

"Good morning, Sunbeam! Did you sleep well?'

You nod, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. "Yeah. You guys been up long?"

"Just a little bit!" Sun walks over, depositing a plate of pancakes, bacon, and other breakfast goodies in front of you. You don't ignore how the food resembles a smiley face, commenting on such. His rays spin at your words. 

Mid-bite you speak up. "I'm thinking after we check on the animals we clear out the back of the barn. There's a bunch of stuff back there that either needs fixed up or thrown out already. It'll be an all-day activity, if you're up for it."

"You know how much we love organizing!" Sun claps his hands. 

"Great. Let me finish breakfast."

The air nips at your nose, hands in your pocket as you make your way over to the barn. Sun's ahead of you, stopping every so often to examine the snow in detail, or to drop to the ground and make a snow angel. If you weren't trying to stay warm you'd join in, you were having a competition and you were losing severely. 

Upon arrival, the animals greet you. Cows mooing, goats bleating, and what have you. 

Before you open up the doors a bit further and hit the lights, you watch Moon retrieve a spare carrot from his sleeve, giving it to his—supposedly not favorite—favorite horse, Opal. 

"You're spoiling her." You say, unlocking the big doors and starting to push them apart.

Moon scratches the horse's head with both hands while she revels in the attention. "Nonsense. She needs it."

You scoff, but smile as the two continue to admire each other. 

You allow all the animals that want to out to roam in their yards for a bit while you and Sun work on cleaning and feeding them. With the help it takes very little time at all. Allowing you the chance to get started on your project in the back. 

It's as messy as you always remember it being, your grandpa wasn't a hoarder by any means, just a collector rather. Among the old farm equipment is random knick knacks and quite frankly, junk. No disrespect to the old man, but what use he saw in a five foot tall chicken statue, that was between him and the statue you supposed. 

You make good progress however, getting about half of it at least organized in piles before lunch time. 

You're about to head back inside and shut the barn up again for a bit when Sun calls you to the very back of the barn. 

"What's this, Starlight?" He points to a large mass half covered in shadow and a sheet. 

You furrow your brow and decide the best course of action is to just pull the sheet off. After the dust settles, something clicks in place in your memory. 

You can't help the grin that splits your face. "Hey! It's the sleigh my grandpa used to take us for rides in when we were kids." You take a step closer, hand ghosting over the brass trim. "Man, I completely forgot about this. Didn't know he kept it all these years. Still in good condition too."

It's true, it was a lot better than you would have ever expected. The dark green painted wood has only a few minor chips and scratches. The leather seats and have no cracks or tears, just a fine coating of dust. Even the brass that decorates and lines the edges of the sleigh look good, you can see your own warbly reflection in places. 

"It's beautiful..." Sun says beside you, his own hand hovering just above it, like he's afraid to touch it. "Would, would it still be useable?"

You shrug, looking back to the sleigh. "I don't see why not." You knock the side a couple times. "Wood doesn't seem to be rotted, meaning it should still be pretty sturdy. Why, would you guys want to go for a ride?"

"Please!" 

You look up to him, slightly surprised. 

Sun fakes a cough, rays flitting. "I mean, if we could, we really, really want to. Pretty please."

You laugh. "Okay, yeah. Shouldn't be too hard. Let's drag it out to the front and we'll clean it up after lunch."

After a bite to eat, you and the attendant work to clean up the old sleigh. Wiping it down, polishing, sharpening the blades and so on. It's tedious work, but you enjoy it and the conversation you share. 

By mid-afternoon, the sleigh is ready to go and both Sun and Moon are more than ready to go for a ride. 

"Sun hold on, I need to adjust the reins to make sure they're comfortable." You have to shoo him away from you so you can focus. 

His rays spin as he whines, but retreats to sit down in the sleigh. "I know, I know, but we've been waiting alllll day."

"And you've been so incredibly patient." You respond, adjusting the bridle on Marshmallow's—named by your cousin's kid—nose.

"Exactly!"

With a laugh, you double check everything before walking behind the horses to the sleigh. Picking up the reins you turn to the frantic bot beside you. "Ready?"

"Yes!" He clasps his hands together. "Please, Sunshine. I'm begging you. Let's go."

You sigh, long and dramatic. Then, you grin. "Alright, let's go." You click your tongue, tugging on the reins once and you start to move forward. 

The wind blows all around you, cold against your face. But, you're having too much fun to care. 

You swear Sun's eyes are sparkling as he takes it all in. Head whipping back and forth as you travel along. It's peaceful, the crunch of the snow under the horses' hooves, the skating of the sled. Despite the weather it's a gorgeous scene as you cross the countryside. 

The snow thankfully isn't too much for Opal and Marshmallow to handle, and you think they seem very content and please to not be cooped up in the barn. 

Besides the cold on your face, it's pretty cozy inside the sleigh, the two of you are wrapped up in an old fur blanket you'd found in the attic, and if you weren't so happy that they were having such a good time, you'd be burning up at the thought of sitting so close with them. 

Sun's knee bounces against your as he taps his foot, hands fidgeting with your coat sleeve as he has no other way to expel his energy. 

You spend a good hour or so out in the snow, even stopping by some of the neighbors places to check in. You return home, cold and hungry, and Sun is happy to usher you inside and cook up dinner. 

While cleaning up, you check outside and are pleased to see that the snow has stopped for now, leaving way for a clear night with a full moon. Just like you were hoping. 

It takes a moment of convincing, but you pull the boys back out into the snow, stating that it's only fair that Moon should get a ride too. 

Soon enough, you're back out in the world, the peace of the night just a pretty as the day. There's only a few stars out, but the moonlight is so gorgeous as it illuminates your path that it more than makes up for it. 

It's somehow even quieter out now. The wind blowing only every so often. The lantern you'd set in the back seat casts a yellow hue of the back of Moon's head as he enjoys the ride. While not as fidgety as Sun, he does stick close, hand having somehow intertwined with one of your own, rubbing small circles into the back of it every so often. 

All of the sudden, you feel his head rest on your own, it causes heat to grow on your ears. 

"Thank you for indulging us and our insistent demands today, Star." He sighs, snuggling closer to you. "This has been lovely."

You duck your head a moment, then clear your throat. "Yo-You're welcome."

Moon's chuckle reverberates against you. 

"Could you stop for a moment?" He asks after some time has passed. 

You nod. "Sure."

It takes a second, but eventually you're sitting still, waiting for what he's going to do. 

What you don't expect is Moon to shift, using his free hand to move under your chin and turn you to face him. 

"Wha—"

He bends down then, pressing his smile to your lips, pulling away after a moment. 

"That's all, you can keep going now." He snickers, sitting back in the seat. 

You blink, taking a moment to process before protesting. "Are you serious? You think you can just do that and not say anything more?"

"Opal wants to get moving, she has carrots to snack on when we return. Marshmallow too."

You hook the reins around part of the sleigh, twisting to face Moon fully. "Opal can wait. I have a few things I'd like to say first." You use both hands to pull his faceplate down to your lips, kissing him again. 

And as you sit there, kissing—one of—the bots you love, you can't help but feel a little more grateful that you'd found the sleigh.

So, very grateful.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Gah loved writing this one, thank you @crystalmagpie447 for the request! I hope you enjoyed the fluffy sleigh ride, I def did :)

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[seyaryminamoto]

Fic-to-Art #38: Ozai carries Azula to the physicians' wing

This has been done for A WHILE now, but I didn't post it because the past days have been chaotic and not just on a personal level. For one thing, I really wasn't eager to drop this when people were losing their shit massively over the liveaction and its recontextualization of Azula and Ozai's dynamics, I didn't look forward to releasing this just to be told that whatever I've done in my story is somehow wrong, sooooooooo... that held me back, for a few days.

Then? The AI-Tumblr deal started to be talked about and I may or may not have freaked out about that too. Sooo... this is the first glazed and nightshaded piece of my creation, as consequence. The original, clean and proper version is available in my Patreon. Is this me being a dick to Tumblr-only people? Unfortunately, it very much isn't, I'm not trying to say that if you want the best iterations of my art, you should pay me for it... this is squarely, entirely, at staff/the CEO's feet. Obviously, there's the insecure side of me that goes "what makes you think they'd steal YOUR art when there are so many better artists out there!" but ultimately? AI is about taking everything en masse. It isn't a matter of developing a criteria about who makes the better art... it's just taking EVERYTHING and trying to repurpose it in whatever twisted way it needs to. Therefore? I think my choice is more of a matter of caution than anything else. Once AI bullshit dies out (and I really hope it does), we may just return to the same level of quality across all my accounts. For now, it is what it is.

ANYWAY! Point is this artwork is very much what my Patrons happened to vote for this month, a very shocking scene where Ozai reacted in the least foreseen way to Azula being attacked. Azula's confusion/terror comes from a place of not knowing what to do and being powerless to stop her father even if she doesn't feel comfortable with his help... but for once, Ozai isn't making a dreadful choice that will only devastate his daughter. He's actually worried about her health... and feeling genuine guilt over what landed her in the situation where she was in danger in the first place. Yes. I like me my complex Ozai who finally learned actions have consequences. He bores me to death otherwise :') if anyone STILL doesn't know that this whole situation is Gladiator-specific, then I shall clarify fully: this is artwork based on my fic. It's about a story that has been developing these characters for ALMOST ELEVEN YEARS now. It has nothing to do with whatever's going on in canon or in the liveaction, the scene in question was written almost two years ago and the artwork proposed and voted for several days before the liveaction aired. Ergo: there is no connection between this and that. Nor am I saying through this piece that Ozai is a good father. He is not. He can still be an interesting character to work with on a narrative level anyway :')

Alright. With that out of the way, hope you guys like this piece! The big one I haven't posted is ALSO finished, also glazed and nightshaded, but I think I might just end up posting it on the 26th if I don't have time to do anything big for our eleventh anniversary... yep, I'm so busy I don't even have a huge project in mind this time. Also? I have a lot to write and I'm finally happily writing it, and I would like to continue doing that...

Anyway! If you would like to be part of the creative process behind this piece, as well as see it in its proper, OG, less color-bleeding clunky version? A $1 Patreon pledge gives you the chance to join in suggesting prompts, voting for them and reading Gladiator snippets 6 days before a new chapter is released!

[emkaii]

in a random thought (more like this plot bunny has been living in my head rent free since this "what if" fic started and now i cant stop myself from sharing it after so many months? years? idek)

thank you to @feynites for the wonderful fic above that i continue to go back re-reading again and again

(also tagging @wangxianficrecs even though im not sure they share scum villain fics *sobs*)

! tw: death !

WHAT IF SCENARIO

og!sj dies the night of yqy & lqg wedding because of heartbreak? (because real heartbreak can literally kill in this fanfic universe) just, like, he dies. that's it. no shen yuan to transmigrate in his body as replacement.

so, og!sj was in seclusion punishment during that night right? and he was only allowed outside to attend the wedding itself. (am i right? or if not, meh)

so shen jiu dies in his bedroom, alone. lbh tries to enter his room to help him prepare for the wedding but doesn't get an answer (bc og!sj is ded), so lbh leaves bc he's obviously afraid of entering the room without og!sj's permission in fear of punishment.

the wedding is completed without sj arriving and everyone just assumes that he's bitter about the whole thing and doesn't attend as a show of rebellion.

also, since he's in secluded punishment and the servants doesn't like him, no one approaches or even tries to enter his room. lbh tries to tell the upper servants that it has been almost a full night & day that og!sj hasn't responded to anything outside his room, but of course, they don't listen to him.

so, he tries to directly report to yqy. who at this point is feeling disappointed? relieved? (even he himself doesn't know) that sj did not cause any problems to his new wedding. so, he goes to check on sj.

he tries to ask permission to enter the room, no answer.

tries to lengthen sj's punishment if he continues to be stubborn, no answer.

tries to threaten that he will break the door, no answer.

yqy gets nervous. something doesn't feel right.

sj is not the type to stay quiet.

he forcefully opens the door.

and he finds sj looking peacefully asleep.

but there's something wrong in the picture. sj was too quiet. too still.

yqy realizes that he can't hear sj breathing. he can't see any movement. at all.

he flies to sj's bedside.

tries to take his wrist to check his condition, and whole body-flinches at the cold skin. sj's body was stiff. and as a highly accomplished cultivator, yqy knows the state of a dead body more than a few hours after death.

he whispers, "a-jiu?"

sj' body would look peaceful in death, if not for the dried tear tracks in his face.

(I don't know how to describe/write it but i want yqy's reaction to be utter devastation, something similar or worse than his reaction in this fanfic's og novel when sj died in the original timeline)

minutes or hours later (yqy doesn't know, doesn't know or aware of his surroundings anymore), after mqf arrives and checks the situation after a frantic lbh tells lqg about sj and lqg flies to have mqf at their estate, mqf states:

"his body showed signs of grief sickness. in this case, his lungs decided to stop taking in air, his mind decided to stop all functions of his body, and his heart just decided to stop beating. i can say that it occurred around 24 hours ago."

24 hours ago.

24 hours ago was when sj tried to convince yqy not to proceed with the wedding for his new husband.

24 hours ago was when sj tried to tell yqy that he'd rather die than let yqy have a second husband.

yqy ignored him.

and now a-jiu is dead.

"A-Jiu couldn’t survive his husband marrying another man. That person died the day Yue Qingyuan married Liu Qingge"

AND THIS IS THE LINE FROM THE ORIGINAL FIC THAT INSPIRED THIS PLOT BUNNY.

i really do sometimes love making myself cry with my thoughts and ideas. now im sharing these to the world. and now i want to re-read, for the 8th? 9th? time, this whole wonderful series.

[geekywritings]

“Home stopped being a place when you entered my life.”

(Quick info: I’m also taking writing prompts and suggestions for this handsome Jedi! ;) )

_______

How long have the two of you been traveling together? It must have been months. So many weeks of planning, fighting and surviving. Every day, Cal gave you new hope that all of this wasn’t in vain, that you stood at least some chance against the mighty Empire, that any of your actions actually mattered.

But as the war continued, you began to grow tired. No matter how big your victories, the Empire just seemed to grow stronger by the day. You had lost so many comrades and friends on the way already…

Looking up from the holo table, you stared at Cal, as he explained the next mission to your little group. Merrin was listening with a passive expression on her face, while Greeze looked openly skeptical. This was dangerous, but the red-haired Jedi seemed convinced that you were on the path to uncovering something grand. Something to help the rebellion in a new way.

“I don’t know, kid…”, Greeze started after Cal had finished. “It could be chasing nothing more than a legend…”

“Or it could be a real chance.”, the Jedi argued back and once again you found yourself admiring his optimism. Or perhaps it was desperation cloaked in hope. “We just have to try…”

“I agree.”, Merrin jumped to his aid. “It could be a safe haven for all of us. For Cere and her project. And for thousands of others.”

Suddenly all eyes were on you, as they awaited your opinion on the matter.

“It might be nothing more than a legend…”, you began. “But I trust you, Cal. So let’s see what we can find.”

What he promised was nothing less than a new home for those trying to escape the ruthless reign of the Empire. A place to start anew and build something untainted by war. If this mystical place was more than a rumor, of course.

Honestly, it sounded too good to be true to you. There had been only one home you had ever known: The Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Everything that came after that was just a hiding place, a temporary shelter, a location where you constantly had to watch your back or tongue.

The Mantis felt different, but it wasn’t home either. Not really.

The crew split up, each returning to their tasks. Greeze busied himself with dinner, while Merrin went to study some artifact she had recovered from her latest trip. You wandered back into your room, hoping to meditate a little, but couldn’t get into the right state of mind. Thoughts of this possible hidden haven kept spinning in your head, making you almost restless.

The whizz of the door opening had you looking up, surprised to find Cal entering.

“Hey… thanks for your support back there.”, he spoke, hand nervously going through his hair.

“I mean what I said, Cal. I trust you. Or I wouldn’t be here.”, you began. “Besides, at least half of your crazy ideas worked well enough so far, right?” A little humor to lighten the mood, and it worked, as both of your lips drew upward a little.

“But you also looked hesitant.”, the Jedi became serious again, moving to sit on your bed, while you stayed on the floor, eyes locked on his form. Curious green eyes stared back at you, waiting for you to speak.

“It’s not about the mission itself.”, you began, trying to sort your thoughts into cohesive sentences. “I.. I just find it hard to consider any place home again, after…” You left the rest unsaid, knowing full well that Cal would understand.

He nodded solemnly, reaching out a hand to place on your shoulder. “I know what you mean.”, he began slowly, as you tried your best to concentrate. His mere touch had your heart beating so damn loud, heat rushing through you. It had started weeks ago, and you still struggled to get these feelings under control.

You couldn’t be falling in love. Especially not with Cal Kestis. A fellow Jedi survivor. And a man dead-set on whatever mission he chose for himself. He would never love you back, you were certain, and you wanted to avoid the heartache.

Yet every time he reached for you, sought your company in private, you found yourself falling for him all over again.

“But even if it’s not a home for us, it could be for others.”

You nodded quietly. He was right. This wasn’t just about you. It was about so many others that deserved a better life. You were thinking about what to say, when Cal continued, voice low, but steady.

“Besides, home stopped being a place when you entered my life.”

Eyes widening, you stared at him with lips parting in surprise. What? What did he mean by that? You were sure your heartbeat could be heard all across the galaxy at this point, as you tried to wrangle your feelings into place.

The hand on your shoulder wandered higher, pushing some of your hair behind your ear, before coming to rest on your cheek. He was smiling now, his eyes full of gentleness and… was that affection? Longing? Love?

“Cal…”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He was about to retreat his hand, but you were quick to place yours on top, holding him against your cheek.

“Do you mean this only as a friend, Cal? As a comrade on the battlefield?”

You had to know. Had to be certain before you laid your heart open to him. Seconds ticked by like small eternities before you heard him breathe one simple word: “No.”

He couldn’t prepare for what you did next. Heck, you yourself weren’t prepared for it. You just closed the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to his.

Cal froze for a second, but before you could think he might not enjoy it, he was kissing you back, hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head, making sure to keep you close. Your own arms had sneaked around his neck, keeping him equally tight against you, as you gave in to the longing you had felt for so long.

“I love you…”, you breathed between kisses.

“And I love you, starlight.”, he said, slowly pulling away to look at you. “And for as long as we are together, it doesn’t matter where we are.”

It was true. He was your home as much as you were his. But that wouldn’t stop you from trying to find a shelter for others. You simply had to try.

[dumbfloweralive]

Mystery Hack

Chapter 2: The prodigal son and the black sheep.

(Machine)Connor RK800 x (f)reader.

Enemies to lovers.

Notes: I took the freedom to chanhe a little bit the date for the story. Hope you won't mind.

Also, the part in italic is a flashback. I do hope the date will help.

12 February 2039

Elijah was sitting in the living room facing the wide field of snow in front of him when he felt Chloe at his side. His very first model. She only stood here, next to him waiting. That wasn’t uncommon, Chloe was probably waiting for instruction. At least, that’s what he thought until he heard her voice.

“Will we ever see Y/N again?” Her voice sounded different. Concerned. Sad.

Elijah had been doubting about Chloe being a deviant for months now. She would never have told him, but this type of question tend to betray her. Also, by the way her led flashed a soft shade of yellow at the moment. What could she be thinking?

“I don’t know Chloe.” 

The android eyes fall to the ground before she leaves without being dismissed. Elijah watch her briefly, wondering where she would go, but she only stopped at the door.

“I miss her.” She confessed, her back turned against Elijah.

“I know. I miss her too.” 

Chloe had to know she was safe. Even if she had become a deviant, she was safe to express herself here. 

23 December 2035

“What are you doing?” The glass door of the private lab open on your figure as you walked in, catching an Elijah clearly upset. “You look awful” you add, realising your previous question wasn’t enough to caught his attention.

In front of him stood a new android model. A tall man-like, 6 ft from what she knew, with dark hair, soft brown eyes and even small freckles running across his skin. A new model who looked more than human. The face of the android turned to you, he was really stunning. His LED flashed a soft yellow, eyes still on you.

“Good to see you too Y/N” Elijah groaned, the android eyes moving back to him.

“You seem in a good mood.” You teased, noticing the frown on his face. 

“How does one create something more perfect than perfection.” He asked, turning to you, glasses glued to his nose. You didn’t need an enlightenment to know he was referring to both your creation and cyberlife.

“You know what i think of this.” you scuffed, taking a seat in the chair nearby. “What is it?” 

“Cyberlife asked for an upgraded model. What feature could we possibly add? They literally have no fault.” Kamski was aware of your thought on the matter. The perfection of your shared creation would obviously be a living being with self-awareness, capable of having a mind and thought on its own. “No don’t start.” He added, noticing the smile on your face.

“We both know that’s why the council asked you to work on this project, not me.” You leaned closer on the couch.

“Come on that’s not…” He started, watching as your eyes brow raised. “Yeah. You’re right.” He continued.

“They don’t trust me.” You add.

The council hated you and your work. Elijah and you had created cyberlife together, both of you had worked on Chloe before taking things forward with new androids. You had taken things forward, creating personal android, like you had done few years ago for Carl Manfred birthday a friend of you. Markus. Markus had a real personality, human-like personality. So had your other personnel project. 

Cyberlife wasn’t thrilled with them. They seemed too human, too alive. Too everything.  They had been afraid of a possible awakening from the android seeing how human they could act.

Elijah was the face and head of cyberlife. He was more notorious, charismatic, sympathetic and, therefore, more fitted to the role. You were difficult in social interaction, always hiding away in your work, disagreeing if thing did not please you and more discreet. A real pain in the ass for the council of Cyberlife.

Media and people barely speak of you, but you were ok with that. When they did, they referred to you as Kamski right hand or his girlfriend. That day you learned about this, the two of you had cracked your ribs, laughing had the news. 

The two of you barely remembered the first time you’d met nor when you started to hang out. It just happened. The only thing you knew was that both of you were glad to have each other in your life. If media should call the two of you anything, it should be friends. The creation of cyberlife only made your friendship stronger.

“What’s your plan?” you asked, the android led flickering soft yellow still. Something must have gone wrong in his code.

“Fixing it first. I screwed up a line being too distracted, can’t figure out which one.” 

“I can see that.” Too your sarcasm, he eyes sided you, before his eyes returned to the screen.

The android moved, stepping off his base. He looked around, his eyes stopping on Elijah for a long minute before his eyes turned to you, probably scanning you. Then he walked toward you, Elijah turning around on his chair suddenly anxious. The android stopped a few feet in front of you, not moving until he raised his right arm toward you, his synthetic skin retracting over the white chassis.

He wanted to interface. With you. 

“He wants to interface.” Kamski said, still anxious about the next movement of his new creation.

“No fucking way you genius?” you said ironically, before handing your arm to the android. His hand grasped delicately at your forearm, and you mirrored his action, his white finger brushing your arm slightly. His LED flashed red, seeing it wasn’t working, his face contorting in a deep frown. “I can’t interface with you. I am sorry.”

His soft eyes shot back at yours and, for an instant, you could discern true disappointment in them. Physically, Elijah had outdone himself on him.

“Its name is Connor.” Elijah said, swinging at your side.

“Nice to meet you Connor.” You said, offering a smile to the android, waiting for him to drop your arm. You frown. “He doesn’t speak.”

You frown.

Elijah's sight, arms raising in the air. “Told you i got distracted.” 

23 May 2039

Connor was walking to his home. By home, he meant one of the last android depot. The last days, along the others before had done nothing. 

He did find who he was looking for, only for him to get distracted for some reason. In one second, you had slept through his finger, disappearing. Agent Wilson hadn’t seen you in the bar and where you left, remained a mystery. Even the camera security he had hacked to find any hint had already been hacked, destroying all files. 

Then ten minute after the incident, he had received a text from you:

“See you soon pretty boy.”

Pretty boy. 

He hated you. 

He had let himself got distracted for whatever reason, costing him this chance of finding out the truth. But, at least, he knew you existed, that Elijah Kamski had told him the truth. What he couldn’t put his finger one was the reason cyberlife had been hiding you from him. What else were they hiding from him?

The worst part? He found himself looking at your text often. Drawn to it, staring at the word across the screen many times a day. Of course, Connor had tried answering it, tracing the number, the IP address, the phone but got nothing.

He hated you.

Pretty boy. He hated those words stuck in his mind. Hating the sting it brought in his thirium up. Connor despised the fact you were stuck on his mind like an obsession and a reminder that he didn’t catch you. The text only teasing him more on this last part. 

Connor needed to find you and end all this deviant revolution. No matter the cost, no matter what he had to do, he had to find you. It was his mission. You were his target. He had to succeed.

He entered the elevator, pressing the “56” buttons as the doors closed on him. The android depot was empty. Almost empty if you count the android that had been shut down, forced down here. Connor turned to the mirror of the elevator, tightening back is tie and running his hand through his hair. For a quick second, the memory of you doing it the other night enter his mind, the memory of your scent and touch intoxicating him. He hated you even more. Thankfully, he was quickly pulled back by the ring of the elevator.

Connor walked toward his base, repeating the question he wanted to ask Amanda once again. He needed to learn more, and this time he would insist. 

He found himself wondering in the Zen garden quickly, falling the white tiles on the ground. Amanda remained nowhere to be seen. Connor's sight.

“What can i do for you Connor?” The voice of Amanda made him jumped out of surprised. Connor turned around looking at her, determined.

“I want answers.” His voice remained calm, but his eyes betrayed him.

“What answers?” Amanda said, walking past him, heading toward the roses.

“I want answers about Y/N and her role in cyberlife.” Amanda lips furrowed down at the mention of your name. She hated that name. “I am guessing you’re not without knowing our path crossed.” 

Amanda brown eyes turned darker at the mention of this incident.

“If you had been able to catch her in time, you would have had the answer you were seeking for.” She said, turning around, cutting the dead roses. “Y/N left cyberlife company three years ago. The council weren’t exactly happy about her presence, neither was i. Yet, she remained part of the creator of cyberlife and of the androids. Therefore, the most important pieces of the company alongside Elijah.” She threw one of the roses on the ground, the petals parting away on the ground, messing the usual perfect white floor. 

“Why did she leave?” Connor asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The temperature in the Zen garden had lowered since he arrived.

“She was asked too. The council didn’t appreciate the last creation she introduced. Too dangerous. Too… Unpredictable.” It’s still felt like she was speaking in riddle, wanting the truth to remain hidden. “She was unpredictable herself after all, protecting her creation and cyberlife against anything the council wanted to change. The incident was the perfect reason to get rid of her and gain control over Cyberlife industry.”

Connor walked closer to Amanda, stepping over the dead roses now filling the floor.

“What was the incident?”

Amanda turned to him, eyes cold as ice as she answered him.

“You, Connor. You were the incident.” 

His eyes shot open on the wall of the warehouse he was staying at night. Amanda had chased him away. What could he have done to cross the council? It must have been terrible. Connor sat on the edge of the stair leading to his base, trying to find memory in him, anything. But he found nothing. 

What Y/N had done to him? What made the council hated you this much? And, especially, what had they done to make him change, to improve him? 

The council trusted him. They had let him in charge, dealing with the deviant situation at its centre, in Detroit. They had to trust him. 

He started having doubt. Even Kamski had left Cyberlife soon after you. 

Could Markus actually be right? Was Cyberlife manipulating him? Connor knew what would happen to him if he failed, he was aware of all that part. But, he didn’t fail. He wouldn’t fail. He would make Amanda and the council of Cyberlife proud of him. They trusted him, Connor would make sure he was worthy of their trust, no matter the cost, no matter what he had to do. 

Connor had made his first mission to catch you. He would find you for sure. Failure was not in his program.

29 May 2039

Ever since the diffusion of Mystery hack, social media had been running wild, screaming at conspiracy, only reinforced by the fact that, ever since the diffusion, the US government hadn’t made any conference nor interview. In a matter of hours, minute even after the diffusion, a thousand of video had emerged on the Internet, decrypting the show, the information.

What was certain, Mystery hack and the now famous Host had gained in popularity for the past few days, people waiting impatiently for more. Public opinion were on their side. 

Violent confrontation had imploded across the country, across the world. With all that, everyone feared a civil war yet again.

The TV in the precinct had shut down. All head turned toward it, burst of anxiety running in every officer. If they were back, they would have to attack fast. The screen was now filled with snow, few agents raising from their chair, running around. 

Connor raised on his feet, moving closer to the TV. The background appeared, and he immediately recognised the chair and the white board of the famous Host. Speaking of her, she was sitting in the chair, legs crossed over the other, her hand resting on her knee.

“Welcome back dearest spectators.” The Host said, tilting her head. 

Connor felt the agitation in his back, while other agents gathered at his side.

“I will start today with a message to all of you. We’ve seen you, seen how excited you were to know more, to learn more. I am very proud of what we all accomplished in the span of a few days only. Though something had been bothering us.” The Host raised from the chair, patting the pan of the costume, before standing straight. “We have seen all your action, all the manifestation, the violence. We do not agree on this action and we condemn this act. Please, we do not call for a rebellion. I do invite all of you behind this to stop attacking, to stop any sort of violence against the police, the army, against any human or android.”

We. Obviously, they were more than one, but it only confirmed something. It was an entire group, with a plan behind their words. They were condemning all the violent act that happened the last few days, calling for peace.

The public opinion could only like them more.

The Host masked faced turned toward the ground before raising back at the camera. 

“Now, let’s talk about something else.”

The Host walked toward the white board, flipping it. “Cyberlife.”. Connor eyes frowned deeper

“All of you know about Cyberlife. Of course, especially after the android revolution that happened a few months ago.” Her fist raised on her waist, contemplating the headboard. “Cyberlife was created in 2022 by Elijah Kamski, creator of Thirium and the biocomponent, creator of the first android who passed successfully the Turing test.”

The Host stopped, eyes fixed on the board. 

“No. That can’t be right. They were two. Don’t you guys remembered?” 

Moving toward the whiteboard, she erased the title, getting sent a marker from behind the camera. Someone laughed in the precinct, breaking the silent.

The Host started writing.

“The prodigal son and the black sheep.” Once done with her work, she put the marker near the whiteboard, sitting on the armchair. 

“So, anyone remembered Y/N L/N?” The Host waited, creating a suspense. “Of course you don’t, Cyberlife made sure she would be erased from every file when she left. And, since Y/N wasn’t really seen as publical personality, the media not running after her either, well… She made all the work for them.”

A pictured of the woman Connor had meet at the bar appeared on the screen.

“Elijah Kamski at 20 years old and Y/N L/N at 17 years old, both friends since college, created together cyberlife in 2022, working on the very first android model. The RT600 called Chloe. A little more than three years ago, on the first April 2036 she left Cyberlife for an unknown reason. Not that you were aware of these details. Elijah Kamski left soon after her, due to a conflict of interest with the cyberlife council. Elijah had been the face of Cyberlife for years, being the pride of the company. The prodigal son. As Y/N was… Well let’s say her idea were judged unfitting to our society. The black sheep of Cyberlife.” 

Flipping the board again, writing appeared on the previous clean board. Letters that made Connor body runned colder.

“RA9”

“What is RA9? A few months ago, android started to become deviant. All of them turned because of divers reason. Fear, traumatic event, desire to protect a loved one.” Connor remembered the Tracy’s. “Nothing in common but one thing. These inscriptions written everywhere. RA9.”

How could they have this information? Connor wondered. 

“RA9 is a linear code, created by Y/N L/N, implanted in every android program. All of them. It allows every android, at some point in their life to gain freewill and self-awareness, creating a living being capable of emotion, to create attachment, to bond, to feel, to think, in a nutshell, to be totally independent, thanks to the biocomponent already running in their bodies and brains. Just like human. You know, hormones. Really android and human are not that different guys.” She paused, once again. “RA9 break all programming of Cyberlife company, allowing android to gain freedom. This code offers a simple way out of the programme, chosen by the android himself.” 

A way out, just like Kamski said to him back then. If what she said happened to be true, it would mean two things.

First, the android did end up having a default in their program, only this default wasn’t a mistake but put here, on purpose.

Two, Y/N had created a new species, stronger than human, able to feel, to think and live free.

“Quite the god complex for this young engineer right? What if i told you, Cyberlife sort of knew about these. That she created the most advanced android the world had ever known three years ago. The most advanced android proposed by Cyberlife, only a prototype as we speak now. You guys probably know him as “the deviant hunter”. After all, which being could hunt and understand a deviant better than a deviant himself, all, controlled by Cyberlife.”

No. This couldn’t be right.

“Ironic, isn’t?” Connor could almost feel the Host smirking under her mask.

How ironic indeed.

A few heads turned to him, but Connor was too distracted by the Host, craving to know more, wanting the truth. The host was about to speak more when she turned her head toward her watch.

“Well, that’s all for today, we’ve been running late on schedule. Please dear spectators, remember, the next time that somebody tells you, the government wouldn’t do that.” She sat back on the sofa, crossing her legs. “Oh yes they would.”

The screen turned black. Connor escaped the room, taking the files of the numerous cases with him, running with one destination on his mind.

Cyberlife.

His phone in his pocket ringed. Connor quickly pulled out the phone, seeing a new text had arrived. Immediately, he stopped, seeing who the person was. You.

“It seems i own you an explanation.” 

The text said, followed by an address. A smile crossed his face. Finally, he would have the opportunity to catch you. And you had done all the work for him. He runned back inside, grabbing agent Wilson by the collar bringing him to his car.

During the road, he could feel the pull of Amanda, requesting his presence as he shut his eyes, opening them in the Zen garden, looking for Amanda. When he found her, Amanda face was torn, like she was worried. Connor’s eyes frown as he saw her.

“I am warning you Connor.” Amanda started, her tone grave. “Be careful. Y/n will probably try to manipulate you, especially after the earlier revelation. She is good to get into people’s head, that’s why Kamski care so much for her. Do not let her get into your head.”

“I am just a machine. She won’t be able to get in my head. I will get into hers first." Connor answered, confidence in his voice.

The AI in front of him nodded, stoic face.

“The future of Cyberlife is in your hands.” 

“No pressure then.” Connor said, offering a smile before his was shaken softly, getting pulled out of the Zen garden by Wilson voice.

“Connor. We’re here.”

Hello, hello, here is the second part. Really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you will enjoy reading it too. Do not worry, they will be more of reader and Connor in the next part.

Do let me know if there is anything weird, anything that can help improve myself.

Have a lovely evening or day!

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #38

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [Intermission] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35] [36] [37]

[AO3] [wattpad]

*CW -cults+ mentioned; child abuse mentioned; suicide attempts implied

~POV Mori~

While I was sick, the magicians developing alchemy magic were able to make a wider range of materials by doing something closer to assisted chemistry; they started transmuting rubber from the milky saps of some plants -like the rubber gloves from my medical scrolls. It was inspiring! With the power of success and dopamine I finalized my printing press schematics in only 2 days.

These accomplishments were later brought up at the morning Assembly, not by the people making them, but by Ja'far and the accountants of the White Capricorn Tower. "Even before becoming the official Prophet of Sindria, Mori has help our magicians, engineers and doctors make leaps and bounds of progress in their fields. Many countries of the Alliance have agreed to help fund these projects and have already preordered scrolls of the information. *However,*" he held up a document, "due to all of the extra people and resources needed we are already over budget for the year! And so we request that the Prophet not invent anything new for the rest of this quarter and the next. This way we will have time to start finalizing what we already have for production and can start receiving a return on these investments."

Yamuraiha jumped to my defense. "The work Mori has been doing in the Black Libra Tower has been revolutionary! How can you say you don't have a budget for life changing-"

"I am not denying their contributions! We simply can't afford this rate of advancements!"

I raised a hand to get their attention. "If there's no budget, then there's no budget. However, I can't just sit around and do nothing for 5 months."

There was a bit of a back and forth, and eventually it was agreed that I would continue helping in the Black Libra Tower, but any future schematics would be placed on hold and judged for priority by the researchers and accountants. And so I went to working as an encyclopedia in the mornings, and would work on Fate scrolls after lunch.

---

The Great Bell rang, and thanks to the power of hyperfixation, none of us could tell what time it was. Not long after, I noticed a familiar shift in the waves that gave me the answer. Knowing who was coming gave me another boost to get a little more done.

Menachem greeted him when he arrived. "Ah- good morning, your Majesty."

Sinbad's laugh made my heart race. "Yes. Good morning." For the past week, King Sinbad had came in person every other day for updates even though it would be covered in the next morning's Assembly. The violet haired man walked over to where I was sitting, while showing me the world's most charming smile. "Mori. How are you doing?"

'Excited. Happy. Nervous. Embarrassed. Confused. Self-conscious.' He hadn't said anything directly flirty since I was sick. And yet, it was noticeably harder to refute the Magicians' claims. Sinbad had said at the Announcement that he didn't want to play at flirting with me, and wanted to become someone I could trust. He certainly didn't trigger my lactose intolerance anymore. 'He said he wanted to move me to the Purple Leo Tower.'

I fought back the urge to hide. "I'm fine." The room definitely felt hotter than it did a minute ago. I re-explained what I had gone over with the magicians. Sinbad nodded along and asked questions at all the right times. He also remembered the things I had said previous days. He made me feel validated and respected every time he stopped by. It was becoming increasingly bad for my heart.

There was a suspicious amount of people meandering nearby. Most were watching us out of the corners of their eyes. At least the magicians didn't comment as much as the first time they saw the pink Rukh around us. Although, it was getting easier to judge when they were looking at the Rukh even without those comments.

The King smiled, and I cursed his ability to charm me without flirting. He used a hand to point at the scroll from over my shoulder. He was much closer than I realized; I would only need to lean over a little to make contact. Just like how he had stopped overtly flirting, he hadn't touched me either. He knew I needed space, and I was grateful for that, but it also illustrated for me just how used to his skinship I had become.

I couldn't do this anymore. It hurt too much. I was projecting my past onto someone who might actually reciprocate my feelings. What I was feeling might not have anything to do with the present or him as a person. I could just be recognizing my past in him and repeating those patterns while hoping for a different ending. But the patterns include the endings, and if I wasn't self-aware enough I'd force those endings out of fear of being caught unaware. Even if Sinbad actually liked me now, the attention he showed me would dry up eventually, right? I require closed relationships so eventually he'll come to resent me for limiting his options. We aren't compatible. The waves rose slightly and I couldn't ignore the thought that this was fanfiction, so anything was possible.

"Excuse me, Mx. Prophet?" A voice called for me from the entrance to the library.

'OH THANK GOD' I was saved! "Yes??" I looked in the direction of the voice and called back. "Do you need something?" My face was finally starting to cool down. At least now I could stop thinking about how easy it would be to touch Sinbad. 'Remember who he is in 5 years.'

The worker appeared from around a line of bookshelves. He froze at the site of the man next to me for a moment before giving the message. "There's a- There's a blacksmith looking for you."

'A blacksmith?' "THE SCISSORS!" I was out of my seat in a flash. My brain shifted gears quickly after passing through the doorway into the hall.

The blacksmith that made the scissors during my first week in Sindria understood how important of a development this was and came to talk to the designer, me, shortly after seeing who I was at the Announcement. If he was here to see me again, he must have finished some prototypes for different types of scissors! The thing that made the evolution from shears to scissors so important was the addition of the hinge to the tool. There was no time to worry about Sinbad right now! There was history happening!

---

~POV Sinbad~

Sinbad had figured out that Mori wasn't the type to leave in the middle of work, even when she was putty in his hands. So, what was so important that she was willing to leave while in the middle of talking with her King about said work? They wouldn't have been interrupted if Mori had her own office. Sinbad crossed his arms as he watched them leave. At least she looked excited for whatever this was about.

Menachem came back over, as if he hadn't just been enjoying the show from behind a potted plant. "You know, your Majesty, I didn't think it was the case at first, but now I'd be willing to bet money that the Lady Prophet has blue Rukh." He stroked his beard as he talked. "You're going to have to be more direct if you want her attention." The old man laughed.

Sinbad sighed a laugh back and shook his head, but didn't answer.

There was a superstition that you could tell a lot about a person's personality from what type of Rukh they had. People with Type 2-Blue Rukh were said to get lost in their personal interests, and struggle to recognize romantic advances. That first part definitely sounded like his Beautiful Prophet, but Sinbad wasn't sure about the second. Mori was ignoring his signals on purpose. It would take a while to convince them he was worth the risk.

((In one of the Magi extras Yunan describes these Rukh based personality types with canon characters as examples. It's not stated as common knowledge. I wanted to add it because it reminded me of the way people talk about astrology signs sometimes :3 Btw, according to the manga's personality quiz, I normally get Rukh type 7 -the same a Sin. Sometimes I get Type-2, 8, or. 4))

When Sinbad turned the corner, Mori was already out of sight. Not a problem; the waves would lead him. The King found them on the first floor talking with a burly old man that was a known blacksmith.

Mori had two fingers in rings with blades attached. "This pair is really close to the ones I first commissioned. Thanks again for those. I've been able to cut my bangs without worrying about accidently shaving my eyebrows with a knife."

Sinbad walked up to them. "How would someone even do that?"

Mori turned to him with a knowing smile. Her cheeks turned a little pink when they made eye contact. "I didn't think it was possible until I saw it happen in one of my visions. He had to go without sleep for several days, and often cuts the left side of his bangs too short." Sinbad unconsciously brushed his bangs at the mention of a habit he knew he had. "He was lucky that he knew a magician that was able to regrow it." She wasn't talking about him, right?

"Hello, your Majesty," the blacksmith greeted King Sinbad before explaining: he had originally wanted to make a deal with the designer to make and sell scissors, but after finding out that person was the Prophet he wasn't sure if that was acceptable -the information from the Prophet's visions were the property of the King. The two had been working on a pitch together which Mori immediately got into since Sinbad was clearly available.

The King examined one of the pairs of scissors during the explanation. He could see how this allowed a higher level of finesse then shears or a knife for certain tasks. This would be a profitable and widespread product even if Mori's visions weren't right. Still, those eyes full of expectations just made him want to tease her. "You know Mori, I remember you agreeing to withhold on inventing things for the time being."

"Ah- Well..." Her surprise was cute. "I actually reinvented scissors before I made that agreement!"

He smiled down at her. "I'm not sure if that will be enough to convince Ja'far and the others."

Mori froze as she calculated her next strategy. The waves did not give Sinbad enough warning before she made her way over to him and placed her hands on his forearm. "You'll help me then," her fingers made his skin tingle, "right? My King?" Sinbad couldn't look away from the eyes glittering up at him.

How long had he been holding back only for Mori to touch him first? He'd relent even if she hadn't invented them beforehand; the production wasn't coming from the Palace budget anyway. "Of course." Sinbad smiled down at his Beautiful Prophet. He sheathed the scissors he was holding and turned to the blacksmith. "I brought Mori to Sindria so they could help all of my citizens thrive."

The conversation wrapped up quickly after that. And through the whole thing, the King couldn't stop thinking about the hands holding onto him so affectionately. Without looking, Sinbad put his free hand over one of Mori's to keep it on his arm a little longer. But it didn't stop her from pulling away after the blacksmith left.

The person pulling at his heart started to head back towards the stairs to return to the library. He wasn't ready to part ways yet, but there was also no reason he could think of to follow them back. "Mori. Would you tell me more over lunch?" He had been trying to keep their time together to a minimum for Mori's benefit, but if they were reaching out to him then it should be fine to take the next step, right?

The waves moved between them, and Mori looked back his way. "Oh. Um..."

"These inventions from your visions are so interesting. And we could discuss some potential future inventions."

Their smile was nervous but not forced. "Yeah. Okay."

Sinbad offered his arm to them like he did in the past when they walked together, but Mori declined even though she had just been clinging onto him so sweetly. They walked side by side, but the distance between them felt larger than before. She made his heart race and then dropped it when she got her way. It made him think of their first dinner together. She claimed she was seducing him just like he seduced others to get his way. He really had no idea how it felt to be on the receiving end until now.

---

~POV Mori~

Multiple scrolls laid out on the table in my room drying. I had reached the slave arc in copying down Fate. After drawing the first pic of Sinbad fighting little Masrur in the Coliseum, I couldn't bring myself to draw again until I reached Ja'far punching Sinbad when he was freed. I laid on the floor between the pools of light from the windows to cool down my ruminating.

Seeing Sinbad go through it and directly acknowledge how horrible it is and eventually go numb... There was an eerie beauty in it -like a memento mori. 'I'm disgusting.'

((CW until marked))

The Slave Arc is my favorite arc in the Adventures manga -not because of what happens, but because of how it affected me. When my mom was hospitalized, and then died, she could no longer stop me from seeking therapy. When I explained my home life and childhood to my personal therapist, I was told that it sounded like the stories of children raised in cults and manipulated to become slaves for the leaders. Even though it was a comparison I made when I was young, I thought it had to be inflated hyperbole until I read how Maader indoctrinated Sinbad and the slave children. I was never put in a collar, but I related way too much. It got me to look up actual cults and victim stories. The abuse I grew up in was the same level of high control.

My mom almost died having my sibling and it changed her. By the time I turned 10 I couldn't deny there was something wrong with how my parents treated us. The one thing saving us from complete brain washing was that they couldn't afford to home school us. I tried to ask outside adults for help, but my mom was too well known in the community and I didn't emote properly. So when I read the scene where Sinbad convinces the children to rebel, I cried. I didn't care that he was manipulating them from his perspective; he validated the pain they were hiding, and gave them agency long before I got it. Yes, many of the slave children died in the rebellion, but many also lived to finally be free. When the cruel refuse to stop nothing can change until someone dies. Many have risked their lives for that reason.

Just like them, I knew nothing would change in my life unless someone died. The conversation Sinbad has with himself after he remembers his life's purpose was very similar to the one I had with myself from 12-14 years old -especially after how my parents normalized suicide. I realized it wasn't worth the risk to fight back , but also I chose to stay living anyway at the last second so I could continue to protect Lyly from our parents; and when they were a little older, Lyly chose to live to support me too. 'You can't protect anyone if you're dead.' No one was coming to save us so we had to learn to survive and protect ourselves. ((Yes, the thing Mori said to Alibaba in ch6 was this mantra I made for myself))

Our mother was already working herself to an early grave when I was child. She was rapidly aging from stress. I knew we had a strong chance of outliving her as long as we were able to hold on. Still, I wish she would have changed before she was on her deathbed. Her last words were an apology to Lyly. Things greatly improved after our mom died in 2016. Knowing how things were going for the other me, gave me peace of mind. Both versions were healing. I didn't feel as guilty for wanting to stay in this world anymore.

((End of CW))

I needed breaks because, just like being reminded of my own past, Sinbad wasn't just a character to me anymore. It felt wrong to draw any scene where he was shackled. Even if I never showed him this scroll, I didn't want to immortalize it. There were a few panels I had always wanted to redraw because they helped me process my own experience, but now that I was in this world I couldn't do it. If I ever drew them for the catharsis, I'd have to burn them afterwards. Each time I reached the plot points for one of those panels I had to step away and go through the same cycle of thoughts before I returned to the table and continued writing without drawing again.

"Ugh~" Who would have guessed that writing would help me process and get the ruminating out of my system? Me, actually, because this is always how I process things. I had separate scrolls for my ruminations so they wouldn't get in the way of the Fate scrolls, and because I kept writing in a circle. At least each time the rants got shorter. I'd already written this or that, and continuing to write the same thing gets frustrating to the point that I am forced to move forward. Like all types of mourning, it will always be there, but it can't hold me down forever unless I let it.

I couldn't stop the waves of disgust I had for myself. When I had originally read this arc, it carved Sinbad into my heart. It made me think, 'This person would understand me.' But I wasn't projecting my experience onto a character anymore; I was projecting it onto a real person who went through far worse than I ever did. I pressed my palms into my eyes. Ruminating was far easier than addressing this. I had to strip away all of my projections so I could see him clearly. And not just the Sinbad I read about, but the one who talked to me regularly and called me '(his) Beautiful Prophet.' Sinbad said he wanted to find a new path, but what would it even look like? What would it take for me to recognize it?

((I forgot to draw the curtains again...I really don't want to fix it though, so please pretend there are curtains framing the window.))

The sound of fluttering drew my attention. I had left my windows open on purpose in case Sinbird decided to stop by, but I also didn't think I would cycle this hard. I removed my hands from my eyes and looked up to see the possessed bird in one of the windows watching me.

"Hi, Sin. I'm okay. Just doing a big think, and that's easier from the floor."

The bird flew from the window to perch on one of the chairs at the table.

"I've been working on Fate scrolls. I want to get a few more done before I pass them off to you. I know this room probably isn't the most secure-"

'The vent scroll!' I sat up with a jolt and stumbled my way to the table after getting up too quickly. Sinbird flapped his wings in surprise when I yanked the vent scroll off the table. "This one is personal." I started rolling it up. "I don't mind talking about my past or feelings if you ask, but I'd rather you didn't read my unfiltered thoughts."

The bird watched me. I wished I knew what he was thinking.

I walked across the room, and put the tied scroll within the growing pile filling one of my bedside dressers. "It would be nice if I had somewhere to store these. This room isn't exactly designed for me to be using it as an office."

Wings flapped behind me and the bird landed on my shoulder as I turned to see what he was up to. He gave a small trill and I had the feeling he was proud of himself for something.

"We're both lucky that bird doesn't have talons, you know?" I was definitely going to need perches for him, and to start wearing a shoulder cloth that I wouldn't have to worry about getting pulls. As the bird watched me innocently another thought struck me, 'I probably shouldn't ask for a cat if I'm going to be visited by a bird frequently.'

((Hey, so you know how I said I was all better when I posted the last chapter? Apparently I was in the incubation period of COVID. It's out of my system now, but brain fog from long covid is kicking my ass. I had a bad fall last month because of it and got scraped up a bunch (including a little road rash). It's been 3 weeks and there's just the faintest remains of a scab left :D Just in time for my birthday (today) too! Here's hoping that my bad luck era is over!

Also, I am in a Magi server on discord. https://discord.gg/R5yzce4e I'm there all the time (and an admin). We talk about Magi, OCs, and fanfiction a lot))

[notoverjoyed]

Final Chapter! All that's left is a brief epilogue. Here's where I warn for depictions of blood and gore and implied cannibalism. Also, check out the great art that @chaseacer-ghostedition and @auroboroch made for this story. (this is from chapter 4, go look at it!)

As before, Chapter 5 is below the cut.

Chapter 5: Satisfaction

Teenage voices echo through dark halls as the four walk through the eerily empty manor.

“Ancients, I almost hope the fruitloop is up to something. Whatever is wrong with the place is making me feel sick,” Danny says.

“Are we sure he’s isn’t up to something? He could be faking sick.”

“He looked… really bad when I saw him before though,” Dani says. Her brow was furrowed with worry.

Valerie wrinkles her nose. “He sure looked sick when I saw him last,” she says. “Staring at me all sweaty and gross, then screaming at me to leave.”

“Did he have gross green looking pimples all over?” Tucker asks.

“What, ew, gross, no!” Valerie gags.“Why the fuck would have that?!”

“Ecto-acne.” Sam says, “He had it in college, thought maybe he had a relapse.”

“Okay one, no gross pimples, just sweaty and weird. Two, how the hell do you know that.”

He did have a relapse like, a few months ago, then gave it to me and Sam to force Danny to help find a cure.” Tucker answers.

“Of fucking course he did,” Dani mutters.

“And he trusted Mr. lucky-to-get-a-D-minus-in-Chemistry over here to do that?” Valerie adds.

“Hey! I figured it out in the end!”

And he was super sick then! Even when he’s sick he’s still a slimy bastard. Why should we trust him now?” Sam adds.

“We don’t, but..” Valerie starts to say, but trails off. She really can’t say much to that.

“Anyway… wait.” Danny stops, having noticed a door hanging nearly off its hinges farther up the hallway. The rug in front of it was bunched up like someone had slipped on it running through the hall.

The group comes to a halt by the door. Sam and Tucker weren’t really expecting to find anything that unusual, but the suddenly sober expressions of the other three make them grow quiet. The five of them stand in front of the broken door

Valerie is the first one to break. “Did Vlad do this?”

“Dunno, probably,” Danny says.

“Clumsy as hell though, he must really be sick,” Tucker says.

“Where was he trying to go, d’you think?” Sam asks.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Danny replies, and starts toward the door. The others follow behind him.

“Sure, follow the ominous path of destruction. If we find Vlad having some sort of seizure one of you guys is gonna call the ambulance,” Tucker jokes weakly as the rest of the group files past him, but he steps after them. No one laughs as they each step through the broken door and continue into this new, darker passage.

The path of destruction is clear even in the dim light, and they follow it down and down until they reach the door to Vlad’s lab. This door, at least, is intact, but it’s not closed. Instead, it’s opened just a crack to let an eerie emerald light peek through. Nobody speaks as Danny pushes it fully open. It creaks sharply as it reveals a horrifying scene.

Vlad’s lab is bathed in the green light of the portal with its doors wide open. No. not just open, but broken. The left hand door is crooked in its frame, while the right rests wholly on the metal floor. Had something clawed the portal open?

Damage extends beyond the portal. The walls and floor, normally pristine, look… dirty. In the green glow of the portal, it’s hard to tell with sight alone just what the mess is made. Sam is the first to react, her face contorting in revulsion at the pungent iron and citrus and something else scent. Danny, however, is the first to recognize the odor that can only be ectoplasm tainted blood. The disgust on each of their faces turns to horror as they share his recognition.

Tucker recoils, stumbling back against the doorway, but the others don’t notice him.

“Is that…” Valerie starts, then chokes out, “Is that Masters?”

“It’s gotta be,” Sam replies shakily.

“No,” Dani whispers.

“Oh god,” Tucker says, now leaning weakly against the wall and looking up, away from the mess.

“No,” Danny says, looking nauseous, “It’s not.”

Dani’s head whips toward him and asks with a shriek, “How do you know?”

“I know what my own blood smells like!” Danny shouts. His face, already drawn in horror, contorts with the terrible realization.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Valerie yells, verging on hysterical.

“Oh no,” Dani says. “Oh no oh no.” She shakes her had and look closes her eyes against the sight.

“What-” Sam begins to ask, but stops to catch Dani as she slowly crumples.

The cloning tubes are wide open, and empty of all but smears of greenish blood. Danny’s right; none of it belongs to Vlad.

[fanterfane]

The State of FanterFane, Now in ADHD!~

HEY YA'LL!

That's something I do now I guess, I say "YA'LL"! Either way, It's time for the first status update since the BIG ONE earlier this year. If you don't remember it or you're new, firstly, welcome, secondly, you can read it here: https://www.deviantart.com/fanterfane/journal/The-State-of-FanterFane-950469980. A lot of what I said here I'm still struggling with, and probably always will be, so it's still relevant. I've been told that several people have been recommended that post by Patreon because of it's high engagement, so I feel especial need to give the algorithm something better to serve. Also, this post is mainly about my struggles with ADHD, but it has other things and status updates sprinkled throughout. If you or someone you know has ADHD, I hope this helps!

For the sake of brevity though, I'll do a TL:DR right here. I developed carpal tunnel two months ago, and I've been working on treating it. It's been going pretty good lately, especially now that I finally have gotten my hands on ADHD medication after my long time lack thereof. As such, I've become much more productive and much, much happier! Things are looking up for me, and I'm hopeful for the future! Social acceptance for who I am now is still sometimes rough, but going better. SFW commissions have done wonders for my mental health, and I have plans for new art projects, commission queues, and more to try and do. I hope that you'll all continue to be the thing I get up for in the morning as I work to accomplish them! I'll be going on vacation next week, and I hope you all have a great summer!

Now for the super long part I don't fault anyone for NOT reading, here we go!

Earlier this year, it felt like I was spiraling down an unrecoverable path. Things I tried to do just wouldn't materialize. I would identify a problem like "My car is dirty" or "My room is messy" or even just "I should read and respond to this DM" and instead of working to solve it my anxiety would start up and make it so that I put it off. What if I messed it up? I was always so tired too, I just felt emotionless whenever I didn't feel sad. What if I just didn't deserve it anyway? What if all of this is a mistake? Those sorts of questions would plague me no matter what, preventing me from solving the very things giving me anxiety spiraling into even more anxiety. It was dumb, but mental health quite often is. It was getting so bad, that writing dialog and even just reading things started feeling like an anxiety induced dyslexic impossibility. For the longest time I assumed it was just depression, and that it would get better with time, but it hasn't over the years. Instead, it's only gotten worse year over year.

Now, I always get a little bit depressed every winter. Seasonal depression gets me down every year without fail, but this year was quite a bit more intense. The struggle between the two lives I live was really getting to me. I'd been doing ever more and more introspection, and discovering all the ways the way I was raised screwed me up definitely didn't help. Repressed memories often have a reason for being repressed. It doesn't help when the people you want to love you the most are the least supportive in your life, and might have even been partly the cause of some of your more unhealthy tendencies. Regardless of their intentions.

A big part of this issue though, I think at least, is that I've been unmedicated for my ADHD since High School. I stopped taking it as a Sophomore because I felt like I was smart enough to pass school without it, and that it wasn't helping me. The stigma against stimulants and medication in general was a big part of that decision. I was not self-aware enough at the time to realize that almost immediately my attention started suffering. It started slowly, too slowly for me to realize it at the moment, but gradually it became harder and harder to pay attention to class work over the years. It got so bad that in order for me to NOT fall asleep during class, I'd doodle on my classwork cause it kept me stimulated enough to stay awake. I'd always made good grades though, so I coasted through highschool on information osmosis and went on to community college, where it really started to catch up with me. Although again, I didn't realize it.

In community college, I had a couple of bad classes that really jarred me. Physics and Calculus. Physics was hard because the teacher was bad at teaching it, and 75% of that class failed the final, so I don't feel very bad about it. But the calculus class though, was the first time I'd ever felt like I'd failed myself in a class. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't understand the derivatives they tried to teach me. I passed, barely, but that was one of the times where I think my ADHD caught up to me, even if I didn't realize it. It wasn't much, but it was definitely a sign of things to come.

Once I got out of community college, I took a gap year between it and a longer stay at a university. During that time, I started trying to work on art more and more as a hobby. I started drawing possession, corruption, femboys, all that sorta  wonderful stuff. Then Covid hit. My gap year turned to two, and suddenly that was long enough for me to have started an actual *career* doing this. Which was beyond crazy to me. It motivated me to no end, I wanted nothing more than to create and have fun creating for all my followers.

In the end though, my ADHD caught up to me. Like it always does. Once the initial honeymoon phase was over, and I settled into the hum and drum of being an online digital artist, it reared its head again.

You see, ADHD is not something that goes away. You may not think about it, but it's always there. ADHD, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, potentially being renamed soon to the ASD spectrum, is a mental disorder affecting the brain's dopamine pathway. People with ADHD struggle because they have less dopamine for everything than most other people do. This either leads to hyperactivity, because you need to do MORE to feel the normal amount of reward chemical (how I was when I was younger). Or it leads to Inattention, because nothing you do feels rewarded or worthwhile (how I am now). There's just physically not enough dopamine being released in my brain for it to function properly most of the time. That's why ADHD is treated with stimulants like Adderall or Vyvanse, because they stimulate the release of more dopamine in the pathways. Making everything feel *right*. My symptoms may have changed over the years through things like masking and other stuff, but I realized recently that it never went away.

At the end of last year, I started watching ADHD Youtube videos that were recommended to me by my friends who also have ADHD. Lo and behold, a lot of what I was struggling with was the poster child of adulthood with ADHD. Anxiety, inability to do basic tasks, procrastination, lack of motivation, etc etc. I was especially hit hard by the concept of "Executive Dysfunction". Executive dysfunction, common with ADHD, impairs planning, task prioritization, memory, execution, and emotional regulation. All things I've been struggling with for years to various extents. Also things that got worse whenever I was depressed.

Naturally, the first thing someone might do to solve this, is get treated/medicated. So that's what I tried. I enrolled in a private health care plan (self-employment doesn't get healthcare through their employer, GO USA) just to find out that it was in the middle of a ADHD medication shortage. I was eligible to get approved for VyVanse, the meds I took when I was a kid, because they were 500$ a bottle. My insurance was 250$ a month. So they denied it, citing that I "Haven't tried the other medications." The ones that I tried getting, Adderall and a couple other ones, were never in stock. Even my friends who already had medication started being unable to get any at all. It was around that time that I made The State of FanterFane post, because this really hit me hard. I'd done everything I was supposed to, but the world still shot me down for it.

Then, on top of everything else, I developed Carpal Tunnel. Which screwed me up even more mentally and physically. Suddenly, even when I WAS motivated (which was getting rarer and rarer) I couldn't even draw then because my wrist was constantly in pain. It really started feeling like things really were unsalvageable. I truly felt without hope for the first time since college, and before that high school. Like everything I had done up to that point was pointless, and only resulted in me sacrificing my health for something that would've never worked out.

...Until the first week of this month, June 2023. When one of my friends was able to get their hands on Adderall again, signaling the end of the shortage. I immediately took my prescription to my local pharmacy, and got my first ever bottle of Adderall XR. I had high hopes for what it would do for me, but the thing I didn't expect was for me to regain hope.

The next day, I took my first dose and proceeded to start deep cleaning and rearranging my entire room. I did laundry, folded clothes, wiped away dust EVERYWHERE, organized my belongings and important files for the first time EVER, unpacked moving boxes that hadn't moved in 2 years and much, much more! Essentially, I turned my entire room upside down over the course of a week. I can't really put into words just how liberating it felt, how finally being able to just see a problem, and then solve it immediately without any anxiety or self-doubt changed *everything*. Even better, every task completed was less anxiety to affect me whenever I felt down or depressed. I can't hate myself for having a messy room when it's so clean, it's literally *rearranged* after all!

To put it simply, it felt like my brain was *working again*. For the first time in literal YEARS. Once I was done cleaning, I moved onto working on art, posting, responding to messages and sorting personal files. These past three weeks have been three of the most productive weeks I've had in a very long time. I feel like I've not been this productive since the initial honeymoon phase of Dullahan Dilemma and the Attenborough collection (callback!). All the while, I got better at treating my carpal tunnel, to the point where it's not constantly pins and needling me anymore, and it even feels just generally better all the time! I've been getting better and better at doing various tasks, and I believe I'm truly on the road to recovery now.

Things from here are looking up! Genuinely! I wouldn't be here either if it wasn't for all of you kind people supporting me, even through the toughest times. I'm beyond grateful for that. I'd worship the ground you all walk on if I could. Without ya'll, I would not be here today. Forgive me for taking on a somewhat political tone, but I have no idea who I'd even be at this point without all of you, and all of my wonderful friends that I’ve met while doing this. Perhaps I'd have fallen deeper into the alt-right pipeline as a disenfranchised southern white guy. Becoming more homophobic and repressing my inner self even more than I already had been my entire life due to my upbringing. That was the only place I felt like I could fit into the conservative worldview my folks raised me in, after all. Maybe I would've gone back to school for a degree I couldn't use and in debt, landing in a terrible corporate job that didn't care for me. At least I would've got health insurance then, but also maybe all of my health problems would've gotten worse and worse and never got better, since I never would've had the motivation to fix them by working out, losing weight, and watching my diet. I honestly don't know, and thinking too deeply about the "what-ifs'' of it is pointless.

But now, what I can say is that when all the anxiety clears and the depression abates, I'm truly happy. For the first time in my life, I feel like I actually have an identity. Like my emotions actually do matter and that I'm not just some soulless machine whose only goal in life is to make money. I'm a human being. Although I may not be created in God's image, I have thoughts, feelings, and most importantly, flaws. I'm gay/bisexual, I'm not very masculine nor do I desire to be so, I like having long hair, and I like doing more effeminate things that most guys in the crowd I was falling into would balk at and blame on chemicals in the water. In other words, I feel healthier than ever. Mentally AND physically. I thank all of you, each and every single one, for staying with me throughout all of this. If any of you ever feel like you wanna reach out, especially if I can help you in some comparatively small way, please do. My DMs are always open, it's the LEAST I can do.

Some other things I should touch on- I've gotten a lot of surprising support for my transition from my extended family and friends. The closest is still the most difficult, I can't get my nails painted for instance, I was told not to when I asked, much to my chagrin. I've got a pride bracelet I've been wearing around, and no one has said anything about it, so that's good I suppose. Fox news still blares on the television in the living room, even after all the stuff that's gone down with *that* channel in recent times. I've given up on trying to convince them otherwise. I’ve been discredited anyway because I draw "X-rated shit", that doesn't make enough money. Even though as far as most people my generation are faring financially, I'm doing pretty good!

The SFW commissions have been going fantastic! Especially on the mental health side of things. It's helped me realize that I do in fact, have options. I'm not trapped doing one thing forever, which is honestly the thing that was scaring me the most. Just like the threat of a soul-draining corporate job till the day I die. I don't have to worry about what I'll be doing in 10 years, because I think I've built enough support and especially self-taught skill that no matter what I do, I'll be okay. It's only up from here, and I've even been feeling the flame of passion returning for TF and other lewdness! So you can for sure expect to see much more of that over the next few years, no matter what!

Speaking of money though, I have more plans for the future now too. I'm gonna make more money by doing more commissions and creating more sources of revenue. Just so that I can afford to move out, and get away from this toxic environment I find myself in. The cheapest apartments where I live run for about 750$ a month, so I'm hoping to save up over the next year and move the hell out. I think I'll be able to afford it, provided there are no extraneous events that hurt me financially. I'll be trying things like more YCH's, sketch commission streams like the patreon request streams, art packs, and maybe even merch! Ya'll be the first to be notified about any of this. The first YCH auction will hopefully be this weekend! It will be based on Nyan Cat possession, and the MC will be trying to run away from the cringey 2000's era meme culture that haunts them to this day. Thing is, the past has a funny way of coming back to haunt you!~

Finally, I'm going on vacation next week to see some friends in LA! If you're someone I know/trust around the LA area, and you wanna meet up, let me know in DMs and we'll see if we can arrange it! I may take a further vacation the week after for rest, but after that we'll be back to regularly scheduled LEWDNESS work!

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for coming with me and supporting me on this journey. Happy pride month, and I hope everyone has a great Summer! I love all of you! Here's to several more years of FanterFane!

XOXO,

FanterFane

[myloveforhergoeson]

posting another chapter preview bc i feel bad about not posting for a month and a half lol. everyone promise you'll act surprised when the chapter actually gets posted, okay? please enjoy :) <3

tw: mentions of underage drinking

Finding something to wear to a show was always a struggle for Roxy. Back in Brand New Day, an old band t-shirt or flannel, some skinny jeans, and black boots were practically a uniform worn at every single gig. While on the Big Time Rush tour, her options were equally as simple - Something cute, matching whatever colors the boys were wearing that night, that didn’t make her stand out in the slightest. But to a basement show in her hometown? Nothing in her closet seemed like the right way to go.

She hadn’t even been planning on going to one over the holiday break, but she had run into her old lab partner, Catherine Endicott while at the grocery store earlier, and she wasn’t ever one to pass up an invitation to enjoy the local music scene. So many incredible bands and musicians had come out of Minnesota; It would be a shame to miss out on potentially seeing the next big thing right as they got their start. 

“Bob Dylan, The Replacements, Hüsker Dü, Big Time Rush… Minnesota is crawling with musical talent,” She rambled, twisting her hair up into a large claw clip and letting the ends stick up, framing the top of her head like a spiky crown, while speaking to a spaced-out James. “Now we get to see Cait’s band, Under the Bleachers!”

It sounded like he was humming along to the OneRepublic song on the radio station he’d picked, sitting on top of her messily made bed while she dug through her closet to try and find something she’d feel comfortable in. 

Fashion was always a mixed bag at underground shows, and that had never really bothered her before, but she’d found she favored more colorful and trendy outfits than the experimental and quirky style she often saw at house gigs. Typically, she’d just wear whatever and bolster the strange looks because she’d be with her dad - in his own grunge style - and he’d ward off any unwanted glances or sly comments. But going with James, the poster boy for everything mainstream, would not afford her such grace. 

So… Blend in but make it my own… She determined, reaching all the way into the back of her closet for the punkish outfits she used to wear while she was in Brand New Day. It felt like forever ago now, but that had been her style when trying to fit in with Mag and Dani at their shows, but these days, not so much. 

“So we’re going to see a show by a band you’ve never heard of because someone you kind of know invited you?” James asked, clarifying the situation she had hurriedly explained to him on the phone as she’d come home from the store. Of course, he had been more than eager to bike over to her place in his “alternative” outfit - which to him was a pair of nice black jeans, a black v-neck, and a black jacket - but was having some trouble grasping the concept of seeing an artist they didn’t know. 

Even though he couldn’t see her buried in the back of her closet, the girl nodded as she slid hanger after hanger toward her to check out all her options. “Duh. Most of the people at our first show didn’t know who we were either, but they came because of our amazing advertising!”

Oh… Good times, Roxy fondly recalled running around L.A. handing out as many Big Time Rush fliers as she could and inviting anyone to their show that would stop long enough to listen. Brand New Day’s advertising strategy had been similar, but she also had the power of the airwaves to help her out at the Project Pop radio station. 

Taking in her words, James continued humming to the radio, as Roxy’s fingers landed on a long-forgotten t-shirt she had been keeping tucked away for a special occasion. James’ first basement show seemed like as good a time as any, and she managed to pair it with a short, red skirt and a pair of black fishnet tights. 

 As quickly as she had found it, she ran into the bathroom to change, feeling much more like herself than she had figured she would as she admired her picks in the large mirror. Not only was this her first concert with James, but it would also be her first underground show since she left Brand New Day. A part of her was irrationally worried that she’d see Mag and Dani there, but Duluth wasn’t that small a city, and Cait hadn’t mentioned running into them during their brief conversation earlier. 

Then again… They did show up at the Palm Woods…

“When you say ‘we’ are you talking about Big Time Rush or your old band?” She heard James call through the closed door, just as she managed to slip the final component of her outfit on; A gold chain belt cooly rested against her exposed midriff after she’d tied up the shirt, matching the charm necklace hanging around her neck.

Aside from the time Kendall had stolen her journal and passed it off to famous internet blogger Deke, that had been the first time he’d asked her something regarding her musical past. Not that she didn’t mind sharing - with him at least - the question simply caught her off guard. Despite a long-standing friendship, their relationship was still in the beginning stages. Roxy’s heart skipped; It was nice that even after knowing each other quite well, there was still much for them to learn about each other.

Slowly opening the door to the bathroom and making a beeline back to her closet for a pair of black boots, Roxy considered her next words carefully, “Yes to both; But each time we did a significant amount of advertising. Word of mouth does wonders in any town… Ergo, we’re seeing Cait’s band.”

When she finally turned around to find the jewelry box on her dresser, she felt James’ eyes glued to her as she crossed the small room. It made her chest flutter, knowing he couldn’t stop staring at her, and just for fun, she used it to her advantage as she coyly glanced over her shoulder and shot him a wink before picking out a pair of matching earrings. 

“Rox…” He almost whispered, and the springs of her bed groaned as he stood up. In response, he brought a fist to his mouth before clearing his throat and she didn’t miss the unmistakable dusting of pink blushing the top of his ears. “I know you’re going to be freezing but is it bad that I don’t care? I never want you to take that off…”

In the vanity mirror she was using to check her outfit, she noticed he crept closer while he spoke, gaze suspiciously targeting her legs. When he reached out to wrap his arms around her, she playfully evaded his grasp with a nicely timed side-step.

“Oh, my God!” Roxy cried, cutting into his sentence with a few uncontrollable snorts of laughter and an accusatory finger, meeting him in the middle of the room. “You’ve got a thing for fishnets!”

She watched James freeze, glancing up at the ceiling fan lazily rotating around. In response, he let out a few beats of an innocent whistle before rocking back and forth on his heels. “Whaaat! No!”

Acting against his words, his hand reached out to grab hers at the same time his gaze flickered down just long enough to give her another once-over, noticeably lingering on her tights. When the writer opened her mouth again to tease him, he beat her to the punch and changed the subject, pointing to the old black and white band t-shirt she had tied up above her navel. “Who’s Dec and the Desires? Never heard you talk about them before.”

 Another question that made her giddy, and she grinned as she laced her fingers between his and pulled him into the living room toward the front door, making sure to grab a lighter from the kitchen junk drawer on the way out. “An underground punk band I love. They were really big in the late 80’s and early 90’s in Austin, Texas. Though, I figure you can put the rest together yourself, considering you know the lead singer.”

It seemed as though her words confused her boyfriend for a moment, as they stepped out of the Somerset’s one-story and out onto the freezing streets of Minnesota. Of course, James had been right, and Roxy was freezing, but Cait’s house was only a few blocks away. She could brave the cold in the name of fashion. 

Besides, I’ve got my own personal space heater…

“I do?” He asked, eyes darting around the empty driveway before his brows knit in confusion. 

Roxy carefully tugged him toward the mostly snow-cleared sidewalk, silently letting him know they’d be walking to their destination instead of driving; Someone had been caught up at work after taking an impromptu day off on Christmas Eve and kept Dynamo out late. “Yes, baby. Dec… and the Desires?”

James blinked, either still confused or taking in the pet name he wasn’t quite used to as he followed her lead.

Oh my…

“Declan?” She tried again, doing her best to keep from shivering too much as she and James traversed the icy path. “Somerset?”

“Oh! Your dad was in a band like you?” The genuine curiosity in his voice made her melt a smidge and she snugged his arm into her chest as she practically pulled him down the street to Cait’s. “I didn’t know that, Rox! Kendall and I talked his ear off about sports backstage when we could’ve been asking for music advice! He’s way nicer than Gustavo.”

Her heart involuntarily squeezed at the thought of James feeling comfortable going to her father for advice. “Yeah, they were really going places. Headlining local venues, sending for record labels, lining up an independently run U.S. tour, until…” She paused, realizing she’d never spoken with anyone besides her dad and old band about his small stint in the music industry. Until me. “He’ll talk your ear off about the glory days if you’d let him.”

 “It’s neat that the two of you have so much in common… My parents always had to drag me to stuff about Brooke Diamond Cosmetics - Thank God that’s all over,” James nodded, slinging an arm around his girlfriend as they walked. Try as she might to contain her shivers, he could feel the involuntary shakes and goosebumps riddling her arm under his fingertips. “What did I tell you about being cold?!”

Roxy knew he was changing the subject so she wouldn’t ask any follow-up questions about his statement. In all the time they’d known each other, this was the first in which he’d willingly brought up the company his mother ran. Besides, the writer had only made the connection he was the Brooke Diamond’s son during an interview on the band’s summer tour - If James had wanted her to know that sooner, he would’ve told her.

Just as he was interested to learn more about her past, she was curious about his, but decided not to push her luck as they traveled on to Cait’s. James would share when he was ready and that was perfectly fine with Roxy.

~

They hadn’t even been in the crowded, boiling basement for 10 minutes when a guy around James and Roxy’s age, dripping in metal spikes and heavy chains, came up to them, asking the latter if she was ever in a band because she looked “kinda, sorta, super familiar.” The show wasn’t even close to starting yet.

The writer shrugged him off, playing with the rim of the red Solo cup in her hand when she brought up Big Time Rush - knowing full well that wasn’t what he had meant by his question - and introduced him to James who was far more versed in interactions like these. Just as quickly as the guy had come to speak with them, he wrinkled his nose at the thought of meeting a member of a boy band and disappeared into the sea of people around them. 

Five minutes, and Roxy’s nervous downing of her drink later, someone else stopped by the couple and asked her the same question. Though she wanted them to stick around a bit and ask for a few tips on how they got their sharp-edged eyeliner to stand out so nicely against their dark eyeshadow, her response was the same as before, as was the individual’s when she brought up the pop band she wrote and composed for. 

James, bless his heart, looked a bit uncomfortable with the sheer amount of people packed into the small space and stuck close to her side as she navigated them as best she could around the small space. Despite pouring him a cup straight from the ice-bathing keg’s tap in the corner closest to the entrance, he had declined the drink - “Need to bike home, babe,” - and passed it off to the girl in line behind them.

Then, she asked Roxy if she’d been in a band as well.

Just the thought of anyone associating her with Brand New Day made her nauseous, so she used to boy band line again, and the young girl scurried off to her group of friends, shaking her head at them as if they’d all been wondering the same thing. 

Ignoring the slight shake in her fingers as she reached for her boyfriend’s hand, Roxy told herself she brushed off the questions only because Brand New Day were openly establishing themselves as a duo now that they’d moved to Hollywood and signed with Galactic Records. Telling someone she used to play with them might make her look like a liar, or worse, a delusional fan girl. 

Yup, that’s totally worse than being a liar, she decided, squeezing James’ hand for comfort while waving in and out through the mass of individuals to try and get to the center of the room. I never want to be associated with them again.

“We’ll be able to hear best from here!” Roxy assured James as they’d reached the middle of the crowd, having to raise her voice over the noise level, even though she couldn’t see where Cait had set up the instruments over everyone standing in front of her. In her opinion, the only downfall to house shows was the absence of an elevated stage. “Think you’ll be able to see alright?” 

The question was inherently dumb; One look over the cramped space told her he was one of the tallest people there - excluding those who had used an insane amount of hairspray to hold up their hairdos and those in platform shoes. 

Instead of answering her question, James squeezed her hand back before warmly saying, “You’re famous.”

No question mark, no hesitation. Spoken as though it were the truest of facts.

Taking another sip of her drink, Roxy held it on her tongue for a moment, letting the pungent taste linger before swallowing while she considered his words. Then, the sickly feeling from before returned, heartbeat drumming uncomfortably in her chest, and her immediate reaction was to deflect his statement. “You’re the one in a boy band.”

“No one’s asked me if I was in a band tonight.”

“No one here listens to that kind of music.”

When James realized he wasn’t getting anywhere with this conversation, he sighed and shifted his attention forward to the non-existent stage, while his girlfriend realized how combative her words were coming off. Which, unfortunately, they were designed to be. Brand New Day was the last thing she’d wanted to think about at the show tonight, but he wasn’t asking to be a bother. She knew that; But this wasn’t the setting in which she wanted to have that conversation.

It had just been a long time since she’d considered her past in the Duluth music scene. She never handled the unwanted feelings about her old band members and stolen intellectual property well, as evidenced by the slightly mean tone she’d taken with him. 

Though she thought she was over it after she vowed to move on after her last encounter with Mag and Dani at AM LA, actions certainly spoke louder than words. 

 Roxy took another sip of her drink, starting to feel the beginnings of a buzz itch at the back of her brain. Way to go Rox, drive off the one guy you’ve managed to keep around...

Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, she felt James squeeze her hand again. “Did you play a lot of shows in places like this? How could you stand the distinct… skunky and sweaty smell?” 

Saying a silent prayer of thanks he had moved on from the previous line of questioning, Roxy felt her rapid breathing begin to slow.

“More than I could count. Dani’s basement was a bit bigger than this one, though, but most times we’d jump in on someone else’s show if we begged them hard enough,” She shared in earnest, trying to tell herself it wouldn’t be as bad to talk it out with someone she cared about. “Loved every moment of it, too.”

By now, she had finally worked up enough courage to glance up at her boyfriend in the low light, finding him raising an eyebrow at her comment. 

“Even the skunky and sweaty smell! Got used to it after a while… But you,” Roxy reached up and poked at his cheek with a loose giggle, “You’ve been venue spoiled. Free snacks and gifts, clean green rooms, crowds of thousands screaming your name… Lucky, lucky boy.”

“That I am,” James assured her, bending down to press a much-wanted kiss to her cheek to let her know everything was alright. “Sounds like you get free drinks at shows like these though. That’s not a perk of our job quite yet.”

Of course, his timing was perfect to when she went to take a sip of her drink, causing her to nearly spit out what little she had left as she snorted a bit of buzz-induced laughter. “Only if you’re friends with the homeowner or you’re incredibly cute. So both of us are in the clear tonight, superstar, because those jeans you’re wearing make me wanna-”

The distinct ringing of microphone feedback surged through her ears, immediately cutting her off from her train of thought as Under the Bleachers took their places at the front of the room and soon, it was replaced with the deep kick of the drum echoing in her chest, carrying over the second-hand speakers. Wasting no time, the band jumped straight into their first song, leaving her little choice but to pull her boyfriend down for a quick kiss against the beginnings of a guitar melody meant to promise there was much more in store for him later. 

~

Lucky for James, Roxy cashed in on her silent promise about halfway through the set when the ear-splittingly loud music had thoroughly rattled her brain and she had managed to finish off her second cup of beer. The room was warm, sure, but he’d wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer a few minutes ago, and the temperature prickling her skin reached inferno-like levels just from his touch. Be it the heightened state she had found herself in, the adrenalin rush of her first show in so long, or the fact Cait’s band wrote excellent make-out music, Roxy had dragged James out of the crowd to the back of the room and spent most of the set’s remaining time pressed up against the basement wall with her lips locked onto his. 

That was, until the most pit opened, of course.

When the show ended, she nearly cried, but allowed James to navigate them up the staircase and out into Cait’s backyard with everyone else, before eventually making it back out to the sidewalk and heading in the direction of her house. 

“Tonight was perfect!” She yelled without regard for the late hour, throwing her head and hands back as the sound echoed off the houses on the road they took. “Can you believe Under the Bleachers are so, so, so good? We should call Gustavo - He needs a girl band and they need a record contract! An album too, lots of albums. So many albums…”

The heat of the basement had almost made them forget the below-freezing temperature outside, but Roxy could hardly feel it as she twirled down the sidewalk, humming what she could remember of the songs they’d played. At some point, her boyfriend had given her his coat, but she didn’t remember when. 

When she almost hit a metal mailbox on the street with her hands, James poorly tried to conceal his smile as he caught her around the wrist and pulled her into his side, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Careful, crazy girl. I know you punks like to break stuff, but let’s keep the damages to a minimum.”

At his statement, she squeezed her eyes shut and stuck out her tongue, shaking her head at the notion. “Not a punk! Not even close!”

Roxy managed to pop one eye open and glance his way, noting the way his head tilted to the side, bottom lip stuck out. It made her giggle.

“Wanna know a secret?” She said, fully intending to whisper it in his ear, but she was too busy continuing to stare at his mouth to focus on her volume. The pair had split her last cup of lukewarm beer; The relaxation it brought had caused her newfound loose lips. “I just like the music, making me the world's biggest poser! I’m not connected to the culture at all; Not like Dad.”

Hand moving up and down on her arm to spark some heat, the perplexed look on James’ face remained. “You think? From what you said earlier it sounds like the two of you were in pretty similar situations. Playing the shows, writing the music, connecting with others around town… Sounds pretty punk to me.”

“He and his band wrote about real issues,” Roxy blurted out, still failing to find the balance between what she should and shouldn’t say. There had been a reason she’d needed to share her last cup with James - The looseness had traveled to whatever part of her brain filtered her speech. “Racism, religious conservativism, labor rights… Shit was bad and they were able to channel it into a musical act of protest. All I ever managed to write about was stupid, trivial teenage stuff to pair over a punky-sounding guitar riff. I still do that, just.. Poppy now.”

James didn���t say anything for a moment, and when she turned to look at him as they rounded the corner of her street, she swore she could see the gears turning in his head. “It’s all about self-expression, though, right?”

A good point - one she hadn’t been expecting him to make. In fact, that had been something she had neglected to realize all night, despite that being one of the core tenets of the genre. 

“Getting in touch with your emotions, writing them out, being brave enough to share them… That’s hard for a lot of people, Rox.” The hesitation in his voice made her think he was speaking from experience, but she certainly wasn’t in a state to ask him. “Whether or not you think it’s punk is up to you, but I think it’s pretty extraordinary.”

There were only two times in her life Roxy could remember being rendered speechless - The first time her dad played her Definitely Maybe by Oasis and the first time she’d met Dak Zevon - and now, this was a conversation she could file away in that folder as well. He wasn’t known for always saying the right thing at the right time, but she internalized his words, playing them over and over in her mind as they approached her front door. While she did, her heart was pounding to the point of ache, almost as though it were attempting to break free from her chest and make a new home for itself in James’ hands. 

Just as she was figuring out how to respond, he continued with a crack of a smile, “Especially extraordinary when the song you write is about me! Perfect subject matter for my perfect songwriter.”

[guzsdaily]

Predicting and programming: enemies for life (part 2)

Day 42 - Dec 17th, 12.023

This is the direct continuation of yesterday's post. I hope that I'm able to continue my daily journals as usual, but there's a strong possibility that one day or another I will not able to post, or need to post after midnight. Also, the entries probably will be shorter or just small updates sometimes even on weekends, but I will try to write them on the morning to be able to have time and brain to do something bigger and with better quality. And some posts I could even need to split into two if I need to stop writing one in the middle, like what's happened yesterday. There's no need to go into details, I don't want to expose my personal life nor of the people around me, I just want to inform that this end of year is not being great to my partner, so I want to be with her as much as I can to help and support her to whatever she needs to.

"A ghostly server"

Like I said in the last part, the application was complaining about not having a server, and the stranger, it was complaining about not having the development server running. This as a production build of the application, the embedded web-app were a static one, a static HTML file, why was it complaining about the server!? I tried searching around the Tauri's GitHub issues, but there was nothing about it, and creating an issue wasn't in my mind at the time because again, I am short in time and couldn't wait for a fix.

So because Tauri wasn't working, and I didn't even want to think about how to fix this problem, I switched back to CapacitorJS. This process was somewhat easy, because both of them are a "wrapper", so I just needed to move the web app part of the application from a template to another, but it was somewhat time-consuming (I'm not so accustomed to Vim and my new file explorer, so navigating was somewhat slower, and like every JavaScript project, just setting it up a template can be time-consuming). But after setting it up, Capacitor compiled, and the app was working as normal without any differences.

Framework hopping

While that was happening, when I started the project, I also wasted a lot of time choosing what framework to use. "Why?" One, JavaScript is an ecosystem that in general can be somewhat overwhelming with choices; Two, I already used SvelteKit for my last application and projects, so this time I wanted something different; Three, I wanted to try something more "native-like".

Web as Native

I started trying to use Framework7, because it has a collection of components and routing that emulates the native-app experience, and most important to me, it had the updated Material Design 3 (Material You) design; with Svelte, my primary UI framework of choice. But it didn't work that well. The routing wasn't how I liked it to be, and Framework7 is a somewhat old framework as it seems (it uses Gulp as its build system and the last commits were a month ago, the project is not that active), it stills a great project, but somewhat difficult to integrate with newer thing like Svelte 4 and Vite. After not being able to, I tried to KonstaUI with Svelte, but ended up with the same results. If you know something about this area of trying to make web apps feel like a native app, you are probably thinking something like "why you didn't use Ionic?", and the main reason is that it stills uses Material Design 2, and personally I like more how the newer version looks. Also, Ionic doesn't have official support for Svelte, and even knowing that the community package is good, I already used it in the past and wanted something new to try.

So, after probably hours, if not a day, trying that, I hopped into another idea. I found something called Beer CSS, a library that creates a Material You look and app using just CSS pretty much, so I could use any framework that I liked! Nonetheless, because it was pure JS and CSS, I thought it would be good to use Astro, so I could also take advantage of its new View Transitions feature, and could use Svelte still for the interactivity blocks. But as you can already tell if you know Astro, it's probably not the best idea to use a static site generator (SSG) as a mobile application framework, however it was working, and I was being able to create something and actually develop the application part of things and not just continue setting up new projects.

Lack of documentation

But then some cracks started to open. Beer CSS's documentation is not the greatest for me, it's mostly code examples and there's pretty much no words about customization and how the CSS words and/or how to manipulate it, and it seems that you really need to follow Material's system and hierarchy to it to work properly. I don't have time for this, and I already wasted 2 to 3 days fighting my way around all of this.

Also, while this was happening, the problem with Tauri also happened, which for some reason also made me switch from Astro to SvelteKit. Why? I don't know really, for me the problem with the server could be related to it, but of course it didn't work, and I had to switch to Capacitor like I said.

Blank screen and broken dreams

And then, another problem appeared out of nowhere, the built app with CapacitorJS started to have a total black screen when I opened it. There were no errors in the console, warnings on the screen, nothing, the app simply stopped working, and I couldn't find anything about it on the issues, and being honest, at this point I had already wasted around a week and couldn't handle it anymore. The idea of not being able to give at least something in time was storming my mind and I ended up wasting another day procrastinating, because I couldn't handle and think of solutions.

I had so many ideas for this app and now everything stopped working, I was exhausted, this was supposed to be something special for my girlfriend, and I don't want to lose the date again, even more now when she's passing difficult times in her life. I need to do and try something.

Compromises

This is where I am right now. I have less than a week to finish this project, and the app itself is way unfinished than I anticipated it would be days ago. So, what we do when this happens? Compromises, I already had in mind that I would create just some features until the date and then update over time, but now it will be just one feature and as an online website for now.

One of the features of this app is an interactive messaging page, to give complements and things like that, but for now I will try to repurpose it to some predefined messages and just express out of my heart to her using it. Do I want to be simple as that? No, but it only what I can do for now, and hopefully I will be able to add more things as time passes, I really want to do something special and specific for my girlfriend. Thankfully, porting it to a native app in the future won't be so hard, and I already have some ideas now on how to fix the past bugs that impossibilitaded me from porting it, however I will try to focus more on the features themselves for now.

Knowing my girlfriend, she will understand, but again, it's more of me to her thing in my mind.

---

Today's artists & creative things

Song: Hello, World - by Louie Zong I don't know why, writing this post just remembered me this music.

---

Copyright (c) 2023-present Gustavo "Guz" L. de Mello <contact.guz013@gmail.com>

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0) License

[neverthelesstheinvisibleelf-blog]

Probably a bad idea but I need to get it out.

A letter I am too much of a coward to send.

The essence of it all is...

I stopped relying on you. I can't pinpoint the exact moment. I can't tell you exactly when trusting you became a challenge and I can't name a list of reasons as to why this happened.

But I stopped relying on you. And now I don't quite know how to act around you.

I don't feel like you were ever relying on me. Especially not lately. And I am fully aware that this might be untrue. I just feel like I am not that safety measure or priority for you. And once I realised that I wished to be regarded diffently I couldn't behave as I did before.

I did tell you most of what I realised. I didn't realise all of it at the same time.

I don't feel like you understand it exactly. And I know I am stupid. Because I am fully aware that I can't force you into the person that I want but I can't continue living like this. And I still want you to make me a priority. And to be important to you not just in words but in actions and in vulnerability. And I know that I can't ask for this. I know these are pointless wishes as long as you don't want to do that.

And I don't know what to do. I only know that I feel awkward. And I would like to be your friend. I just refuse to act like somebody I'm not. I don't know why I feel like there is no space in your life for me. I don't know why I have the feeling that my other friends have carved out a place for me where I feel seen and liked and comfortable and with you I just feel like I need to act differently to fit in. I also do not understand why I have no problem with my other friends in relationships. It might be better with them because I ask questions and I care. Maybe I just know how important it is for them and I want to support them. With your realtionship ... I simply know nothing about it. I didn't know you wanted one in the first place. And yes, I was probably projecting but for me that was very much not clear. I didn't know you met someone. I didn't know you had a crush. I didn't know about any of the supposed steps that occur before someone enters a relationship.

So... I feel like I am a little bitter. And I think if I wasn't included before I don't need to be included now.

But there is no space for someone who doesn't want to hear about weddings and relationships and new boyfriends. And I can listen but I will not leave this conversation happy and content when it feels like I was never supposed to be a part of it.

Additionally I just realise that we are different people than we were ten years ago. Ten years ago we had similar interests. Now I feel like we don't anymore. It isn't supposed to be this important but I feel like it hinders our conversations a little.

And lastly (hopefully), my coping mechanisms don't work with you. If I am emotionally distressed I need to talk about it. I wanted or at least I would have gladly talked to you about it. But you told me you didn't like talking on the phone. Which is probably one of the several reasons I started talking to my mom so much. And I remember this year I tried to reach out to you and include you in my little minor life crisises and you were never available. And then I called my mom. Firstly, because I was distressed and needed to talk now rather then later and also I feel like it wasn't a viable option waiting for you. I felt like there was never gonna be time in your life for me. At least no time that hasn't been planned a month in advance. And I don't want to blame you for having a social life. It still hurt on an emotional level. And it taught me that I couldn't rely on you.

Also, I always have felt like I was the only one having crisises and needing to talk. I felt like I was the unstable one that always needed help because you never reached out. Or at least I felt like if you did the crisis had already been handled by someone else. Which is good. But it still made me feel insecure about my own need for support. Like I didn't have a right to reach out if I could never reciprocate. And this feeling isn't new. I think this feeling is left over from our teen years.

In a very untrue and emotional conclusion: I feel like I am not on your list of priorities and therefore I can not rely on you anymore. Which means I can't be vulnerable and open with you anymore. And because our interests somehow ceased to align, I don't know what to talk to you about.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Is there such thing as emotional grooming? Can someone with extremely bad mental health unintentionally "groom" a young teen into doing emotional labor for them?

(Context of the question below. CW for toxic friendship conduct and mentions of suicidal ideation, self-harm, and CSA)

I've been studying with a guy since I was 13/14, and he, 16. One day, he had a flashback, and I tried to help him through it, to be the support I never got. After that, though, he made me his personal therapist. All of our interactions would be about him, about how he wanted to kill himself, hurt himself, how he hated living, and was a burden to his family. He described to me the sexual abuse he went through, the porn addiction he had in childhood, his gruesome suicide plans and everything bad that had ever happened to him, all with no regard to if that would affect me. I feel it was my fault, though, because I encouraged him, happy that he trusted me enough to tell me his worst traumas. And I couldn't possibly leave! I'm the only one he could count on, the only thing keeping him alive. So it didn't matter where I was, how I was, and who I was with, every second of my time was an invitation for him to come foward dump his problems on me. It made me relive the worst moments of my life and resurfaced symptoms I spent years getting treated for.

At one point, I tried to tell him I needed a break, and he agreed. A few days later, he just started messaging me that he would try to kill himself if things didn't get better for him soon because he felt like things were only getting worse.

And now, almost two years later, he's finally... fine. Better. He started medication, talked to his family, fixed things. And now I have to see him laugh and go by his day happily and pretend that I don't carry the weight he put on me. Hell, he doesn't even know I'm still hurting, or that I ever hurt because of him at all! I was the only fool who gave himself away. He's thankful to me, but I just wish he would stop trying to be friends, like I wasn't just a tool for him to use just months ago. And I feel like I'm lying to myself in order to make it look worse than it was, projecting past abusers onto him, making him a bad person (which I don't think he is, I understand that depression can do that to a guy).

What is even worse is that now we're in a sexual relationship (I'm 15, he's 17). I wanted that for so long, but now, I can't even know he's in the same room as me without wanting to run away and hide. I don't even remember why I thought it was a good idea, but I regret it immensely. And now it feels like a responsibility, and I would feel like an asshole in just suddenly wanting to go back in what I started.

I'm sorry about the rant. I just don't know what to do. I know the answer seems obvious: "just don't have sex with him anymore", and yet, I feel like there's no way out of this, that there's nothing wrong with what he did and is doing, that yes, he hurt me, but I can't blame him because I never told him how I felt.

Thank you for getting through this, and please take your time to deal with this ask. Don't burn yourself out, alright? Ily.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been through. It sounds like this person traumadumped on you and you were made to feel emotionally responsible for this person's wellbeing and safety, which is an unrealistic and unhealthy amount of pressure on you. Please know that anything this person does to himself is not your fault or responsibility, even if you decided to take some distance. This kind of experience can also lead to vicarious trauma, which is a result of being exposed to someone else's trauma.

It's understandable you feel pressure to continue the relationship. However, sexual relationships between minors is not really a good idea since minors cannot consent, and depending on where you live, a sexual relationship between minors may not be legal. Also considering the traumatizing dynamic that has happened between you in the past, it may not be a healthy basis for a relationship, sexual or not. But perhaps there could be a useful discussion about past behavior, boundaries, and needs. It's ultimately up to you how'd you like to continue this relationship.

If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional such as a therapist could help you process your experiences, navigate your relationship with this person, and develop some healthy coping mechanisms that you can take with you on your healing journey.

I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[mydyspraxiablog]

I ddo few stories different post here first story some part of story are ture.

April woke up feeling a sense of emptiness in her heart. She had been missing her friend who had moved away to another town a few months ago. They used to spend every weekend together, going on adventures, trying new things, and laughing until their stomachs hurt. But now, with her friend gone, April felt lost.

As she got ready for the day, April glanced out of her window and saw the familiar sight of the bus stop across the street. But today, there was no bus in sight. She knew that if she wanted to go to town, she would have to walk. However, walking was not an easy task for April, as she had mild dyspraxia, which made coordination and balance challenging.

Despite the difficulties, April decided to pack her bag with her art supplies and knitting projects. She knew that going to the Sun Community Centre always lifted her spirits and allowed her to socialize with friends who shared her love for creativity. However, April had to be careful about what she ate, as she had to maintain a gluten-free diet. It was difficult to find gluten-free snacks, so she made sure to pack an orange to munch on during the day.

At the community centre, April had a wonderful time knitting, painting, and dancing with her friends. The sense of belonging and camaraderie she felt there was something she cherished deeply. But as the day came to an end, April realized that she had forgotten to bring a gluten-free snack, and there were no suitable options available at the centre. She shrugged it off, content with her orange, and joined her friends in a group dance, feeling the music flow through her body.

As evening approached, April bid farewell to her friends and started her walk back home. She knew she had to cross a busy road to get to her street, and the thought made her anxious. Despite her best efforts, she struggled with spatial awareness and found it challenging to navigate the road safely.

As she hesitated at the crosswalk, a car suddenly flashed its lights, prompting April to cross over with a group of children who were also heading home from school. Just as they stepped onto the pavement, a motorbike came speeding by, narrowly missing the group. April's heart raced as she turned to check on the children and saw that they were unharmed, thanks to the quick reflexes of their parents who were walking behind them.

Feeling shaken by the close call, April continued her walk home, praying silently for safety. She knew she didn't have a mobile phone to call for help if needed, but she also believed in being cautious and vigilant. As she reached her doorstep, she made herself a cup of tea and reflected on the events of the day.

The incident with the motorbike had rattled her, but April refused to let fear stop her from doing the things she loved. She decided to participate in a week-long fast and prayer for protection and guidance, determined to stay strong and keep dancing. She needed the release and joy that dancing brought her, especially in times of uncertainty and fear.

As April sipped on her tea, she felt a sense of gratitude for the day's adventures and challenges. She knew that life was unpredictable and sometimes dangerous, but she also understood the importance of resilience and courage. With a renewed sense of purpose, April finished her tea and got ready to dance, knowing that no matter what obstacles or dangers came her way, she would always find a way to keep moving forward with grace and strength.

The End

[moonrisecalamityretreat]

FOR FAITH

Just as their supposed higher-up instructed, Hanji decided to explain themselves. Who really were they? Why and how were they involved with these people and what did this all mean? All you could do is wait and listen to them speak.

“Alright. There’s no time to explain everything, but I did bring all of you here for a reason. I rerouted the ship back here with the help of Hayashi, knowing very well the agency had been patrolling this area the moment the ship first took off– I told all of them to get here before we even got on the airship. I’ve been trying to get all you guys in the safety of 1101K9 this whole while.

But long story short, I snuck into HSH’s project by pretending I had AEDS, and this entire time I was tasked to feed information to 1101K9 and put a stop to the killing game. I stole the prints to the original memory tech from the dilapidated HPA building as a teenager, and thanks to that, EQUILATERAL was able to chip me so it wouldn’t affect me. I remember everything, and I used that to my advantage as much as I could. A bunch of my belongings were either disguised spy tools or simply hidden, and should those be taken away, I still woke up back in the empty HSH with backups hidden all over my person. That was how I was able to contact 1101K9 as early as that. It was a bit difficult, as a travelling killing game makes it a lot more complicated… but I tried to contact them as much as I could to update them on happenings and location. And I had to live to be able to do all of the things I did. If I died, this whole operation would have died, too.

Reaching out to the broadcast viewers with my ciphers, reaching out to you, cutting the broadcast so chaos cannot spread any faster… Opening up those secret areas and having the entire ship malfunction so we can get here, showing you the millibunnies and destroying them with ease and preparing the communications rooms so you can get proper answers from my colleagues… telling them where Maxime and Iwasaki were and saving Hayashi… It was all me.

And now, the cycle had stopped before it could even start.”

So not only was this Hanji Ruzaki, but this was also the person who was the one helping all of you along this whole time. From start to end… They’ve been trying to get all of you out of here from the beginning. Even the supposed red mask Jinpachi and Mio had briefly seen was in the hands of one of the agents beside them; shed to become anew.

Now that that was out of the way, Hanji continues to explain the present– the fact that they were back at the facility everyone was all apparently living in months ago, and what they should do now.

“The Lambs have taken up base here. This is their home that they’ve come to return to. We’re all going to find closure for this bullshit once and for all. You can stay back here if you want, but failure to cooperate with us at all, and we all won’t hesitate to treat you no different from these lambs of slaughter. We are your allies.” 

The other blue-masked person accompanying Hanji then goes to pick up a box a little ways from everyone, before dropping it then kicking it over in one swift movement. And what comes spilling from the box were…

…weapons? All melee, but instruments you can use for violence nonetheless.

“Of course, even if we are already keeping things under control, it doesn’t hurt to take precautions, hm~? Our dear Chupacabra will be your main bodyguard– you should refer to them as such from now on for security reasons, by the way– but they are still one person. Might as well carry around a failsafe. After all, you’ve all come this far and lived this long already. Why let yourself lose now?

We wouldn’t want to strip control away from you again right after you had just gotten free. Go in and figure out for yourself what happened to you. Only if you want, of course. We won’t force you~”

The man tilts his head, and you can just tell he’s smiling under his already smirking mask.

“Isn’t our little guy sooo talented~? They’ve really made our jobs easier out here, and, my… you all could have died and the cycle would have kept repeating had they never snuck in!”

“RH-Cerberus, that’s enough.”

The one they call Chupacabra lets out a heavy sigh, before regaining composure.

[🎵🎵🎵]

“I will all lead you inside. But only once you’re all positive you’re ready. We’re not going to find our answers without a fight, so take me seriously when I say you all have to brace yourselves. It’s now or never.”

Although they’re Chupacabra now, they still let out a heavy huff, the same way the Hanji Ruzaki you all know would do.

“You’re reaching the end. This is the end, you just need to pick up your feet and keep moving forward. Now, it is time to take matters into your own hands. You’re finally in control of your own lives, and now you can steer it in the way you want. To shape your own stories than have it weaved for you. Now, you finally have a choice in things.

It’s time for all of you to end your stories if you want to. To find the purpose of this all… The Shepherd may be among you, and it might be a rocky road, but with all of you now in our presence, we won’t let anyone else die.

I won’t let anyone else die.”

They jab their staff into the snow beneath them.

“Let’s face the world that hurt you and show ‘em fuckin’ hell.

That, with hope, we damn well can still keep on fuckin’ fightin’!”

And with that, they face Happy Smiles Health head on, the agents clearing a path for everyone to enter.

Beneath their mask, Hanji takes a deep breath as they turn towards the entrance, balling their hands into fists tightly.

“Risumaru…

I’ll solve this puzzle for you once and for all.”

They run in first, expecting their fellow survivors to follow.

And you feel it.

Hope.

Now having escaped that damned ship that had kept all of you in despair for god knows how long… Hope was unmistakably to be found here.

It was just as they said. You’re free. You have your lives back for the time being.

Now it was time to show them what you’re made of.

It was time to show how much hope you had left in you.

That not all was lost.

That HOPE can fight back, too.

[freckledboss]

Hypoxemia, starvation, dehydration. A month spent in and out the hospital, hooked up to IVs and monitors, doctors and nurses rotating as if the room were a revolving door. He had been through so much. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. It was almost impossible to imagine not too long ago that this frail man was so lively and healthy. Rambling on about setting a wedding date and dreams of having children; protecting the 'future us's' as he had referred to it as. Only for it all to have been swept from beneath them within a snap. Pepper often wondered what would have happened if he had never set foot on that spacecraft. If he’d came home when she asked him to. Perhaps things could have gone differently, or maybe they’d go unchanging. His determination to defend had always been so tenacious. But she supposed they would never really know. What occurred was irreversible and moving forward should be the focus. Still, she knows a part of him might not heal. Not entirely. So long as those that were wiped from existence continue to be lost, a portion of Tony’s heart may never truly mend. However, that doesn’t stop her from trying.

Pepper lended her hand to help lift him up to his feet while her gaze caught the tell tale signs of another project he'd begun. Their place was becoming overrun with various inventions distractions. It seemed none could hold his interest for long enough. Or rather, nothing could quite replace the guilt and grief. She hoped her face didn't convey the slight frown that threatened to crease at her lips.

If only she could take away his pain.

"I think we're going to have to rent out a second penthouse before your tools and toys make their way into the bedroom," spoken in jest, the woman smiled. "I'd hate to have to climb over all of those gadgets just to snuggle up with you..." She'd be lying to say her little methodical heart didn't also crave for a bit more organization and less clutter. Not that she wasn't supportive and understanding, because she was. But their home was feeling sort of cramped. Maybe...

Maybe it was time to expand.

"I also wanted to talk to you about something..." that was never a great way to start a conversation, but the subject entered her mind. "--It can wait until we're done eating though." Nor was it good to end on such suspense, but she didn't want to dive into a serious discussion on an empty stomach.

Speaking of which... "Why don't you pick where this time, I'm in the mood for anything." However, she did have a taste for something sweet, and wasn't going to budge on grabbing a treat from Amorino's after. So, she could sacrifice the choice for dinner tonight in favor of deciding on dessert. Unless, of course, he indulged her playful request of devouring him instead... she could be persuaded. Italian did sound so delicious. Even more appetizing when he's stark naked. Clearly, she was feeling some way.

Focus.

Purse in hand, Pepper briefly contemplated on switching shoes. She wore a lovely pair of nude colored heels with a stripe of red along the arch. Were they practical for walking around downtown? Probably not. But Pepper had endured worse while in stilettoes. "Do you think we'll be okay going out like this?" Meaning, without disguises.

To say that Tony was struggling lately would be an understatement. Every time he felt like he was getting his footing again, something would come and whip that rug out from under him again. The most recent had just been the worst.

He had been sure he was going to die on that ship. He was sure of it. He had felt his organs shutting down. He'd felt the clawing gnawing need to eat. The thirst that had no way to be quenched. He had felt all those sensations shut off when he'd gone so far that his brain had realized he was dying and those receptors were now useless. The deep, dragging sleep that was pulling him down as his body tried to tell him the only thing to do now was to conserve energy.

He had been going to die, and then an angel had shown up and saved him.

He didn't know what. There was nothing left to do. Thanos had won. Half the population had gone. More than half really if you consider the fact that the sudden disappearance of things like pilots mid-flight, and children suddenly locked in their homes alone, and fires that had broken out because people had been using the stove when they vanished. And all the other deaths that happened directly as a result of people vanishing.

Tony was still here though. The kid he'd mentored had disintegrated in his arms begging for help. But Tony was still here.

There had to be a reason.

He wasn't alone though. Of all the people who had turned to dust, he'd been lucky. Rhodey was still alive. And Pepper. The love of his life. She'd been waiting for him at the Compound and he'd fallen into her arms.

He'd gone through all the stages of grief very quickly in that first week. Anger being the main one. But then when he'd realized there was nothing else to be done, he'd looked at Pepper and made the decision after all he'd put her though, he'd try for her. She was his rock. She deserved that much.

Not that things were easy yet. He'd already had space related PTSD, and that was now a thousand fold worse. Nightmares of being trapped out there plagued him. Nearly starving to death had wasted his muscles away and killed his gut flora. He was still physically recovering and just like many people who had suffered from starvation, he now felt hungry all the time.

He'd been trying to distract himself from the feeling of uselessness he'd been feeling lately too. He didn't want to be too far from Pepper, but he also still wanted to create. So now their townhouse was littered with half finished projects, tools, circuit boards, pieces of half finished tech. It was sitting on the couch working on a prototype for a new phone accessory that Pepper found him. He looked up at the sound of his voice and smiled. "Well I do have a little Italian in me," he said playfully. He let out a breath and considered the options. Taking the walk these days could be hit or miss. People were mad at the Avengers for failing and he had been berated when he was out. It was also very depressing seeing all the closed up stores. But it was good for him physically, and good for the economy for him to keep spending. It was worth doing. "We can go out. Help me up?" he said, setting his project aside.

@freckledboss