#this has nothing to do with the current post but like

[thesquishyfish]

since I literally never do this here goes, thanks for the nudge op

I’m currently writing the “first family” of a cult centered around the concept of time. Like, lots of clock/hourglass/calendar imagery. The current head of the church is a woman named Solstice Meridian, who was meant to be the first immortal human and is starting to age so she has had a TON of work done because she isn’t coping well with her rituals not working. The cult is matriarchal, she inherited her role from her mother. She has a husband named Equinox Meridian, although since men change both their first and last names at marriage, his birth name is completely unknown.

They have twelve kids, each named after a different calendar month and each born a year and a month apart on the first of each month. January is the oldest at age 16, but since he’s a man he can’t inherit his mother’s role and he can’t really marry “up” for status so he sort of feels completely directionless in life. He spends a lot of his time just kinda raising the younger kids.

February has been being prepared to take over the church from her mother and become the true first immortal human. (It has to work this time, right?) She’s betrothed to a young man named Julian who will take the name Valentine Meridian at marriage. Her whole life has been nothing but rituals and study, but she also does ballet as a hobby.

Won’t get too much into the other ten kids, but as for the cult: Men and boys cannot show their eyes in photos and videos. They also wear eye veils during religious services. Equinox wears his all the time. If a boy is too young to understand to shut or cover his eyes, someone else has to put their hand over his eyes. March plays basketball, and wears a sheer blindfold when playing to make sure pictures and videos don’t show his eyes.

Here’s some unfinished art. Solstice and Equinox are in the center, Jan and Feb are the two tallest, and it descends from there.

And yeah, you’re right, I gotta post more about em

"if you want to hear about my ocs, my inbox is ope-" NO!! START YAPPING UNPROMPTED!! DO NOT WAIT FOR OTHERS TO TAKE INTEREST, POST THINGS THAT WILL MAKE THEM TAKE INTEREST!!!!

[mangiomochi]

LM’s Social Media

I made this long post to list all the social media accounts and profiles of Luigi Mangione. As many of you already know, a lot of his profiles have been taken down. The platforms where we could see the more personal side of Luigi and his experiences, like Facebook, Instagram, and Reddit, have been deleted. However, fortunately, some of his profiles on other platforms remain active to this day.

I’ll try to list each of these sites. If you see anything that needs to be corrected or know of another LM profile that isn’t listed here, I’d appreciate it if you shared it. My goal is to keep this post as updated as possible.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, so if you notice anything odd in the writing, I apologize.

Facebook: luigi.mangione.2

Status: Taken Down First post: Jan 17, 2010 Last post: Aug 24, 2019

LM has had a Facebook account for quite some time—likely his first social media platform. His earliest posts date back to 2010. His last post was in 2019, which was also the year he was most active on the platform. That year, he posted several photos from a trip to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico with his fraternity and the three months he spent as a head counselor at Stanford in Palo Alto, CA.

Instagram: @luigi.from.fiji

Status: Taken Down First post: Aug 13, 2018 Last post: Aug 27, 2021

LM’s first Instagram post was in the summer of 2018. In that post, he explicitly mentioned that he created the account just to give one more follower to his sister’s blog. (LM has two sisters.) He also tagged his sister @lifewithlu__—or whatever handle she had at the time. If you've come across accounts currently using that handle on Instagram or Twitter, they are fake. LM’s sister apparently changed her username a while ago and later deactivated her account after LM’s arrest.

As for LM’s Instagram activity, his last posts were from the summer of 2021. He shared photos from a trip to Puerto Rico, where he was working remotely for some time, and from a trip to Hawaii with his other sister. LM also posted pictures with a friend he met at Stanford in 2019.

Additionally, LM had a highlight section featuring his predictions for 2027, which he uploaded in Jan 2021.

LM became inactive in 2022, despite appearing in a few posts made by his roommates in Hawaii. However, many of these posts were later deleted, or the accounts were set to private—likely to completely disassociate from LM and the allegations against him, or to avoid harassment from either his supporters or detractors.

In 2022, despite not posting anything himself, he was tagged in various posts and stories by his roommates and friends in Hawaii.

Instagram 2: @luiginmangione (probably fake)

Status: Taken Down

This account is probably fake, but we can’t be entirely sure. Unlike the confirmed account, this one was private and also has been deactivated. It had zero posts and 404 followers—an interesting detail, as "404" in some areas of computing means "not found," which is notable given that LM was reported missing in 2024.

As for the profile picture and bio, there was nothing we hadn’t seen before, making it highly unlikely that this account actually belonged to him.

Instagram 3 or Another Social Media Account

In messages between LM and one of his friends, his friend mentioned that he was wondering who the person trying to follow him was. It seems that in February 2024, LM created an account where it was impossible to recognize that it was him.

YouTube

First active: Unknown Last active: May 2024

You've probably already seen his supposed channel—the one with a single uploaded video and another that was never released. What was in that second video? Most likely some form of self-promotion from whoever was behind that account. Fortunately, the channel was taken down before that could happen.

However, we do know that LM had not just one but three YouTube channels, all of which were unfortunately removed due to YouTube’s absurd policies. According to the CNN article where this was mentioned, LM hadn't uploaded anything in seven months, meaning his last content would have been from May 2024. It's a complete mystery what he had posted—most likely something related to his trip to Asia. Sadly, we may never know. YouTube acted so quickly against LM’s channels that the internet didn’t have time to archive the deleted content.

Another possible type of content LM might have uploaded to these channels includes drone footage from Hawaii and Asia, projects from his time at Penn (2016–2020), or even school projects.

GitHub: lnmangione

Status: Still Up First active: Feb 27, 2015 Last active: May 8, 2021

In case you’re not familiar, GitHub is a platform where users can store and update code—directly related to LM’s career and essential for anyone studying or working in a field that involves coding.

LM was active on GitHub from 2015 to 2021, contributing to personal projects, FTC (Robotics), and university assignments. In 2020, after graduating, he used it to prepare for coding interviews. By 2021, he was mainly working on private projects, likely related to his remote job. Apparently, Luigi stopped being active on GitHub in 2021.

Twitter: @PepMangione

Status: Still Up First tweet: Apr 14, 2016 Last active: Jun 10, 2024

This was probably the social media platform where LM was most active before his arrest. His most active year was 2024, and he had been using this account since 2016, although he didn’t post anything after 2016 and only became active again in 2021

His earliest tweets appear to be automated posts with random numbers, possibly tests for some kind of Twitter-connected application.

Aside from that, his Twitter provides insight into his ideology, which seems somewhat ambiguous. Politically, he didn’t appear to have strong affiliations.

After his arrest, LM’s account was taken down but later reinstated. He followed only 71 people—later 70, after a Japanese poker player he met in Tokyo in February removed him as a follower. Currently, LM’s account has over half a million followers. Before his arrest, several accounts followed LM during the time he was missing—most of them were likely bot accounts, though not all, as some belonged to friends trying to contact him through public tweets you’ve probably already seen.

LM didn’t follow any of his friends on Twitter. Some of his friends did follow him, which means either he never followed them back or he unfollowed them at some point.

Regarding his banner, it consists of three images:

Breloom from Pokémon – This is directly linked to Theory 286, which you may have heard about. It connects Breloom’s Pokédex number (286) with LM’s total number of Twitter posts, which was also 286 (now 285), as well as with certain health insurance denial codes. Personally, I think this is just a coincidence. Breloom was likely there because LM liked the Pokémon—it’s a Fighting type, which can be linked to physical activity, and is a Mushroom, which could relate to his interest in psychedelics.

X-ray from his surgery – This was from a procedure that took place on July 21, 2023 (though I’m not sure if that’s the exact date). This means his header was updated at least after that date.

A shirtless photo of him on a mountain in Hawaii – We know that one of LM’s favorite activities was hiking.

The last known activity of LM on Twitter was on June 10, 2024. That day, he retweeted a post and sent a DM to Gurwinder in response to a tweet, asking him to show him how to curate his feed to display more valuable and educational content.

After LM disappeared, during July, October and November, his friends tried to reach out through tweets and probably also through private messages.

Twitter alt: (Fake)

I don’t remember the name of the account, but it was something related to mushrooms, it was initially linked to LM due to its similarities with his interests. However, it was later clarified that this profile does not belong to LM, and the shared interests were purely coincidental.

Linktree: lnmangione

State: Still up

Linktree is a platform that allows users to compile multiple links into a single page, making it easier to share various profiles, websites, or projects. Many content creators and professionals use it to organize their online presence.

LM did have a Linktree, but instead of links, it only contained a series of emojis. No actual links to his profiles or projects were listed, making it unclear what the purpose of his account was.

Here’s a possible interpretation of LM’s emojis based on what we know about his interests:

💻🤓 – Likely represents his tech side.

🥷🏃‍♂️🧘‍♂️🏋️ – Suggests his active lifestyle, including exercise, meditation, and discipline. The ninja could represent martial arts.

📚🤓 – Reflects his love for books and self-education.

🦍🧠 – Likely represents LM’s interest in gorillas, as seen on his Goodreads, Reddit and Twitter.

🍄🧠 – Likely a nod to his interest in psychedelics.

🐄👨‍⚖️ – Might reference ethical concerns about the meat industry or food regulations. It could also be a nod to Moo’s Law, a book exploring the rise of lab-grown meat, its potential to revolutionize food production, and the ethical, environmental, and economic implications of this technology.

☯️ – Represents balance, Eastern philosophy, or mindfulness practices.

Snapchat: luigimangione

State: Taken down

LM’s Snapchat was listed in his yearbook alongside his Facebook, suggesting he was quite active on the platform. After his arrest, his account remained up for a few days. Someone posted screenshots of his profile on TikTok before it was taken down, but I haven’t been able to find them. Perhaps that profile was also taken down due to TikTok’s constant censorship. His avatar was surprisingly well-made. If anyone has those screenshots and can share them, I would be grateful and will, of course, give credit.

Substack: @anotherdayanotherplay

Status: Still Up

Substack was where LM followed many of the writers he engaged with on Twitter. One of them was Gurwinder, a British blogger whose work LM seemed to appreciate deeply. He liked it enough to purchase a premium subscription to Gurwinder’s Substack blog, The Prism, which costs $200. This subscription granted LM perks like a video call with the writer.

Gurwinder’s articles cover topics such as gamification, short-form video platforms and their negative effects, and NPC behavior.

You can read more about this meeting in the article Gurwinder wrote about LM.

TikTok: @lnmangione (Fake)

Not Owned by LM

If you’ve seen some of LM’s tweets, you’ll know he was against short-form video platforms, making it unlikely that he ever had a TikTok account. The account mentioned here does not appear to belong to LM. Most of its reposted content is in German and English, Additionally, the type of content shared on this account doesn’t align with LM’s known interests.

TikTok started gaining popularity between 2018 and 2020, so we can’t completely rule out the possibility that LM once had an account.

LinkedIn: Luigi Mangione

Status: Still Up Joined: Feb, 2015 Last active: 2023

LinkedIn is the go-to social media platform for job searching, and LM’s profile provides detailed insight into his education and work history. His last known job was at TrueCar, where he had been working remotely for some time. He left this job at some point in 2023, but he never updated his LinkedIn to reflect this change.

The exact reason LM left TrueCar remains unknown. One theory suggests he resigned to take time off for traveling and recovering from his surgery. Another theory points to company-wide layoffs at TrueCar. However, we can’t confirm anything for sure, as TrueCar declined to provide detailed statements, citing employee privacy—specifically in LM’s case.

Reddit: u/mister_cactus

Status: Taken Down Joined: Feb 23, 2016 Last active: May 25, 2024

Reddit was one of the platforms where LM was quite active, and he remained so until May 2024, sharing details about his travel through Asia. LM created his Reddit account in 2016, the same year as his Twitter.

In the beginning, his activity was mostly related to university projects, garage sales, and Pokémon Go. Over the years, he also engaged with posts discussing brain fog, spondylolisthesis (spondy), and other topics. From his comments, we know that at some point, his health insurance provider was Blue Cross Blue Shield. He also shared details about his struggles with spondylolisthesis and how a surfing accident in 2022 worsened his condition.

In 2023, LM posted about his decision to undergo spinal fusion surgery, sharing research on successful cases. His most recent Reddit activity in 2024 included reposting videos of the mass street livestreams that have become common. LM seemed highly aware of how technology was creating these dystopian scenes.

His final Reddit post detailed what he packed for his trip to Asia—notable items included:

Backpacks

An iPhone 13 Mini

A drone - DJI Mini 2 Drone

A physical book (LM preferred them over digital ones)

Other personal essentials

Unfortunately, his account was taken down shortly after being discovered. It's unclear whether this was due to Reddit’s questionable policies or possibly mass reports against the account.

Goodreads: luigimangione

Status: Set to Private

LM’s Goodreads account gained attention after his arrest, offering a detailed look into his reading preferences. His library included a mix of genres, with notable categories such as:

Self-help books

Back pain management

Psychedelics

Agronomics

Moo’s Law

Exercise books

Books about Hawaiian islands

Fantasy and science fiction, including A Brave New World and Harry Potter

LM was quite active on the platform, frequently writing detailed reviews and sometimes even adding handwritten notes to his books.

Steam: Pep

Status: Still Up Joined: Oct 20, 2013 Last active: Jul 7, 2024

Steam is the most popular platform for purchasing games, and LM had been active on it for a long time. His last recorded activity was on July 7, 2024—exactly six months and 2 days before his arrest. The last game he played was PUBG.

Looking at his library, you can see the wide variety of games he played over 11 years since Oct 2013. One touching detail is that many of his friends still have him added, and one of them even changed their username to "FreeLuigi"—a clear sign of loyalty and support. That’s definitely a good friend.

LM also had an alt account added, but nothing noteworthy has been mentioned about this account.

The last games LM played are:

PUBG: BATTLEGROUNDS – last played on July 7, 2024 Orwell – last played on June 28, 2024 Spelunky 2 – last played on June 2, 2024

Tinder

Joined: Nov 27, 2021 Last active: Dec 18, 2022

Apparently, Luigi was only active on Tinder for a short time in December 2022, though his profile dates back to November 27, 2021. His love life is also a complete mystery, so it’s interesting that he even had a Tinder account. Shoutout to the person who spent 15 bucks to unlock the unique photos Luigi had here 🫶

Trello: @luigimangione

Status: Still Up Joined: Unknown Last active: Unknown

Trello is a platform designed to help teams organize their work. There isn’t much to see on LM’s account, but his profile picture is the protagonist of Spelunky—one of the games he has logged the most hours on in Steam.

Pinterest: luigimangione

Status: Still Up Joined: Unknown Last active: Unknown

There isn’t much to see here. LM only saved a hoodie, likely as a show of support for Tim Urban and his blog Wait But Why—one of the writers he was most enthusiastic about.

Spotify (Fake)

These Spotify profiles began circulating just hours after Luigi Mangione’s name became widely known. However, these profiles are fake and seem to be an attempt to link Luigi to various musical tastes—such as artists like Clairo, Charlie XCX, or Blackpink. If you’ve tried to research Luigi’s musical preferences, you’ll know that there’s very little information available. The only two songs we know Luigi listened to are from his SoundCloud account.

SoundCloud

Status: Still Up Joined: Unknown Last active: Unknown

This is where Luigi liked two EDM tracks that are not very well known. These are currently the only reference we have to LM’s musical tastes.

Chess: sexytwerker69

Status: Still Up Joined: Sep 19, 2017 Last active: Dec 22, 2023

This is one of my favorites. The nickname is quite original and gives us a glimpse into Luigi’s sense of humor. This profile was created in 2017, and the profile picture is a unique selfie of Luigi biting an apple—one of the few selfies he had taken. This confirms that the account is indeed his.

Other noteworthy details include that his last activity on the account was in 2023. Additionally, he had the Italian flag on his profile instead of the American flag, showcasing his pride in his Italian heritage—just in case that wasn’t clear enough.

Venmo

Status: Still Up

Venmo is a personal payment platform commonly used in the United States.

Activity on LM’s account is mostly from 2017, the year when Luigi was selling Christmas lights at his university. While we’re not entirely sure what he was raising money for, many of the payments made to and from him included some of the silly comments that showcased Luigi’s sense of humor.

DISQUS: @luigimangione

State: Still up Joined: Jun 20, 2017 Last active: Jun 20, 2017

LM's only activity here was commenting on a post from Wait But Why. The blog post was Neuralink and the Brain’s Magical Future. This was the only community he followed and his only interaction on the platform.

Sporcle: lnmangione

State: Still up Joined: Jan 23, 2024 Last active: Feb 4, 2024

Sporcle is a trivia and quiz platform where users can test their knowledge on various topics. LM had an account here, among the quizzes he completed were Most Visited Websites, Countries in Europe, SpongeBob Characters, Most Populous Countries, US States, Computer Hardware Parts, Programming Language Popularity, Genetics Vocabulary, Super Secure Bunker and Erase the Periodic Table.

Devpost: luigimangione

State: Still up

This is a platform where developers showcase and submit projects for hackathons. LM was active here during his university years, submitting a project for PennApps competition. Not much to see, but it gives a glimpse into his early coding days.

Other sites that seem to belong to Luigi are:

Apple Profile State: Still up A default profile linked to Apple services, not much to see here.

DockerHub State: Still up A platform for sharing and managing Docker containers, LM had no repositories here.

HackerRank State: Still up A coding challenge site; LM had no public activity or submissions here.

Medium State: Still up A blogging platform; no known posts from LM, but the account exists.

And that would be all the profiles I know of so far. As a small reward for making it to the end of this post, here’s a low-quality picture of Luigi showing off his perfect side profile 🙌

[mochroialainn]

Besties, Im gonna be so for real right now, this turned out to be a little more intense and freaky than I intended. Im currently playing the campaign for Modern Warfare II (reboot) and could not get this scenario out of my brain since I first saw Graves. So uh... warnings for power play, mentions of safe words, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, breeding, creepy graves. Minors Do Not Interact this is an 18+ Post. This was also written on mobile and formatted on desktop so please ignore any spelling/grammar errors, I'm too tired to proof read it and fix it

Thinking about cybersecurity CIA!Operative reader whos married to Price and is brought onto the task force by the Secretary of Defense (so above Shepherds head) to try and find the traitor, the SoD has an inkling that its Shepherd and Graves and its readers job to prove it. One of the ways she does it, because shes young and pretty and knows how to get what she wants from a man, is by flirting with Graves and gradually getting closer and closer to him until she can hack his phone and gain access to his emails. She hates it. Hates him and his arrogance, his cocky smile and the way his eyes always trace over her body and stay too long leering at her tits when they talk. He genuinely makes her feel sick and queasy, and she shivers everytime shes out of his sight after flirting with him.

Price hates it. Hates the way Graves looks at her, eyes always on her tits or ass as if she was nothing more than something to fuck and leave disgarded. He has to clench his jaw and bite his tongue anytime he sees them together, he wants to punch Graves and break his fucking jaw. Wants to take a knife and carve his heart out of his fucking chest. But he doesn’t, because he can't. It would jeporadise everything you had worked for, would jeporadise his team if Shepherd knew his little lapdog had been found out he would have all of them killed in seconds.

But when you come to him after flirting with Graves all day, locking his office door behind you and already stripping yourself from your clothes beginning him to make you forget about every look and leer and touch from Graves, hes all but happy to oblige. He kisses you something fierce, all passion with a hint of danger mixed in, all lips and teeth and desperate panting into your mouth as he sigs your bare ass on his desk one hand already toying with your nipple while the other travels further down and starts to rub hard, rough circles your clit. You were already wet thinking about him, and now it starts to pull, slicking up your tighs and his desk but John doesnt care. It wouldnt be the first time he fucked you over his desk and it wouldnt be the last either. John makes you cum from just touching your clit before he removes his finger and rakes it through your hair, grabbing at the roots and pulling so your neck was barred to him.

He so desperately wanted to mark you, leaving bitea and hickeys over your skin to claim you as his but he couldnt, do he was gentle. Trailing kisses down your pulse point and across your collarbone, down your sternum going lower and lower until his face was in front of your pussy and he dove in like a man starved. Lips wrapping around your clit and sucking harshley, a satisfying pop echoing in the room as he let go. His eyes stared up at you as you threaded your fingers through his hair, "you remember your safe word?" A nod from you is all he needs to keep going, teeth digging into the supple flesh of your tigh as he slowly slid teo fingers into your weeping hole. He made sure to push you to the edge and withdraw, over and over again until you were a crying mess and he had mercy on you, edging you again until again until he finally let you cum. He made sure you came for him 2 more times before he even entartained the thought of fucking you and when he finally pulled his cock out of his trousers (not having undressed yet, wanting your wetness to soak into his clothes) you nearly weeped from the pleasure and overstimulation when he entered you, all the way to the hilt in one go. And there was no way he was stopping until he pumped at least 2 loads into your gorgeous pussy.

He'll make you forget all about Graves, hell when hes done with you, you'll be lucky if you can even remember your own name and don't walk away pregnant.

[traincat]

So @softgrungeprophet just posted about John Jameson/Peter Parker, a thing I have nothing for, but it did remind me that I had a Spideytorch WIP where Jonah tries to set John and Peter up and so Peter comes up with the brilliant idea of fake dating Johnny to get out of it, only for John and Johnny to start dating, a thing which will obviously not drive Peter mad with jealousy. Ft my not remotely in order writing practices.

Anyway I don't know when I'll finish it so have a thousand words of people making bad decisions.

--

It was a regular Friday afternoon and Johnny, free of all social and superhero responsibilities, was just trying to relax and maybe catch up on a week’s worth of reality television when a full-grown man hit the side of the Baxter Building going eighty miles an hour.

“Did I scare you? Sorry,” Peter said, not sounding very sorry at all, as he climbed gracefully through the window.

“Of course you scared me! Not everyone has a built in magic spider danger sense!” Johnny said. He looked down at the carpet and the new red footprints there and made a face. “No, it’s fine, track what had better be paint all over my apartment.”

“Thanks, Torchy,” Peter said, as if Johnny had been in any way sincere. “Don’t worry, Reed’s little robot friends will steam clean that right out. Listen, I’ve got a favor to ask you.”

With friends like these, who needed Doctor Doom.

(blah blah blah)

“I just need you to pretend to be in a relationship with me,” Peter said. “For one, two months, tops. Or however long Jonah has left on this earth. Either or.”

(blah blah blah)

“Look, here’s the deal,” Peter said, rolling his eyes, “and don’t ask how this happened, but I accidentally told JJJ I’m bisexual and –”

“Wait, you did what?” Johnny cut him off. His voice was dangerously high even to his own ears. “You’re what?”

“I just told you it was an accident,” Peter said, still in that tone like it was no big deal and he accidentally came out to major newspaper publishers every other week. For all Johnny knew, maybe he did. For all Johnny knew maybe he put on a rainbow spider-suit and shouted it from the top of the Empire State Building every single Friday Johnny had ever been off-planet.

“How do you accidentally tell your former boss you’re bisexual?” Johnny demanded. Then, his own voice somehow rising even shriller, he added, “You haven’t told me you’re bisexual!”

Peter shot him a look that said that he was pretty sure he just had. As if Johnny wasn’t sitting right in front of him, currently losing his mind.

“The bad news, apparently John Jameson came out to his dad a few months ago,” Peter said.

“That’s the bad news,” Johnny said, his voice both flat and scathing in a way no acting coach he’d ever had would believe he was capable of. “Really.”

“Well, good for John, I guess,” Peter allowed, making a face like he wasn’t quite about all of that. Johnny was going to smother him by the end of this conversation, probably. “But bad for me. Because now Jonah wants to set us up.”

There was a strange static-y sound ringing in Johnny’s ears, like someone had scrambled all his frequencies.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Could you rewind? Maybe to the beginning of this conversation?”

“You’re not listening to me, Johnny,” Peter said. “Jonah basically implied that John and I should get married. The other day I caught him looking at brochures for catering halls out on Long Island. And look, John’s a great guy, but –”

“Great,” Johnny said, his face in his hands. “Fantastic. I’ll send you two a fantasti-toaster.”

“But he’s not my type at all,” Peter said. He reached over and closed his fingers around Johnny’s wrist, tugging his hand effortlessly away from his face and leaving Johnny no choice but to look up into that big brown imploring eyes. “Now, She-Hulk, on the other hand…”

A strangled noise of rage tore itself from Johnny’s throat.

(Peter asks Johnny to be his fake boyfriend to some Bugle event)

--

(Bugle event, Jonah awkwardly talks to Johnny and says something mildly homophobic in an incredibly well meaning way.)

“That’s very… something of you, Mr. Jameson,” Johnny said.

“My daughter Mattie bought me a book,” Jameson admitted.

(blah blah Peter runs off and John and Johnny talk on a balcony)

“You know, that’s the thing about Parker,” John Jameson said, his voice light and casual. “Every time I’ve ever seen him he’s had some beautiful model hanging off his arm.”

Johnny snorted, thinking of the Black Cat, and Mary Jane, and even Carlie Cooper with her whole hot librarian vibe. Dorrie Evans, the prettiest girl in Johnny’s high school, talking Johnny’s ear off on a half dozen of their dates about how Peter Parker was so smart and how he was interested in politics and an inch taller than Johnny and probably much more in touch with his feelings. Yeah, right.

“Tell me about it,” he said. “They should ban him from fashion week for the models’ own good.”

They probably already had. Johnny would have to ask.

“No, I meant…” John trailed off. He smiled ruefully, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny said, realizing he’d cut John off. “What were you saying?”

“I was complimenting you,” John said, his eyes twinkling. “What I said about Parker and beautiful models – I meant you.”

“Oh,” Johnny said, floored. He felt strangely like blushing, but that was silly. Johnny was a famous space explorer. It was hardly the first time a handsome astronaut had called him beautiful.

It was, perhaps, the first time it had happened to him on earth. And the first time it had happened outside of a hostage situation. And the first time Ben hadn’t been there to threaten to beat the astronaut up.

“You are here with Peter Parker, aren’t you?” John asked. “As his date, I mean.”

“Allegedly,” Johnny said. He’d meant it to come out under his breath, but it didn’t, and he suspected his eyeroll wasn’t quite as internal as he’d intended either. John laughed, but not unkindly.

“He does have a habit of disappearing, doesn’t he?” John said lightly. “I get it, though, as the son of a newsman. The number of dinners my father actually made it to the main course without rushing off to take a call or chase a story...” He trailed off, sighing ruefully, the corners of his mouth quirked up. “That must be why they get along so well.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Johnny asked, feeling emboldened, maybe, by the way John was looking at him, by the fact that he had called him beautiful.

He definitely wasn’t feeling spiteful over the fact that he was supposed to be here with Peter and Peter had, of course, ditched him, caught up in fifteen other different things, just like always. Things that were more important than Johnny. Things that Johnny could have helped with, maybe, if Peter had asked.

Or maybe things Johnny couldn’t have helped with. After all there were plenty of reasons he might have found Peter’s shirt abandoned in the corner of the men’s room. Things that might have everything to do with, say, the Black Cat instead of Doctor Octopus. 

“Of course,” John said. His hand landed next to Johnny’s on the balcony railing. “You can tell me anything.”

(Johnny admits Peter only brought him as his date to get Jonah to quit it.)

“My father does have that way about him,” John said ruefully. “He’s trying to be very supportive. My foster sister bought him a book. He said he’s thinking about starting a podcast.”

“Elderly Bugle subscribers, watch out,” Johnny said before he could stop himself. Luckily for him, John laughed.

[John kisses Johnny at some fancy event]

--

So now Johnny was a homewrecker. Either of his fake relationship, or of Peter’s future Daily Bugle society page wedding to John Jameson, certified American hero. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

--

Johnny stared at Jonah. Jonah stared at Johnny.

John tucked into his steak like he wasn’t sitting in the middle of the world’s most awkward dinner. Johnny guessed he must have had experience getting through dinners with J Jonah Jameson, but he could have taken a little pity on Johnny, a novice.

(And then somewhere in here Peter would have gone insane.)

[worseandworsebytheday]

I had a whole long response typed out and I had to step away and I came back and it was gone so I’m going to have to abridge it because it was a masterpiece of a response and I can’t recreate it. In short elden ring lore is stupid it’s one selfcest god that crafted a bunch of incest demigods (curing mogh and the cursed half brother). The “dungeons” you speak of are mostly just caves and mines with a few legacy dungeons. Some of which are more annoying than interesting. Saying it’s “visually stunning” or whatever is stupid you’re comparing a current game to one over a decade old that honestly still looks great. But even so, simply comparing visuals is hardly a fair argument. Your pot man’s quest wasn’t sad it was stupid. Whack him out of a few holes and then shatter his ass in azula. I felt nothing doing it. Ranni and her ending were at least interesting and her as a character I actually liked. And she lead to the moonlight sword which is a staple of the games. Yes I know bloodborne and dark souls have insane lore but it’s actually good and worth looking into. Your beloved elden ring locations are big empty areas where you will either just wander around doing nothing or get annihilated by a rune bear or T. rex bird every 2 minutes. There’s no engagement. No imagination there. Skyrim had replayability. Multiple quest lines for factions or the open playability to just wander around and make your own story. I’m sorry you lack and and all ability to think outside of a stupidly structured game. The absolutely godawful takes I’ve been getting inundated with the past couple days are avail it’s bullshit I really expected better from all you stupid fucks. You remind me of when I was in highschool and idiots would say halo was better than Metroid because it “defined a genre” completely disregarding what came before. Or that master chief could ever take Samus in a fight simply because he was the newer guy and all they knew. You’re lucky my original reblog got deleted and I’m getting yelled at and this is all I could say back to you otherwise I’d have much better words than you’re a bumbling fucking moron with absolute shit tastes. Go choke on your shit opinions and enjoy your garbage ass fucking game. (I’ll update this post as I remember more things to add on if I do).

When I was mentioning the shitty locations I think I forgot to specifically name drop caelid. Can’t forget FUCKING CAELID SPECIFICALLY.

Also you think the only interesting location in DS1 is he dukes archive?! Motherfucker we got ash lake, the seat of the FUCKING MULTIVERSE. We’ve got, quite literally, hell, izalith. Oh and I don’t know how you got to the archives without passing through anor londo. Because you CAN NOT tell me that place wasn’t fucking stunning. And AND AND the way they BUILT the locations. Seeing izalith and ash lake from the tomb of giants. That not only has LORE REASONS but if you look at the 3D rendering of the maps IT ACTUALLY PHYSICALLY FUNCTIONS AS SUCH. Like literally the world building is top notch and you’re going to downplay ALL OF THIS?!?! Motherfucker get your fucking head out of your motherfucking anus and open your shit crusted eyes at the marvel you downplayed to “one interesting area”. And on top of that “oh boo hop the pot man was so sad” fucking SIF AND ARTORIAS. You want sad fucking...just fucking...now that I took a moment to re skim your response to me now I’m just fucking angry with you you fucking idiot among fucking idiots.

Like really your shit ass Fucking tastes about skyrim are bad enough but to lump bloodborne lore in with elden ring lore and then shit on dark souls world building?? Motherfucker I will physically fight you to the death over this one I’m not even messing around. That’s 3 real games you’ve dragged through the dirt defending the elden trash heap. Fuck all of you.

elder scrolls or elden ring. there is a right answer

Listen I love skyrim, but you have to be a bumbling fucking moron if you think it's better than Elden Ring!!!!

[utilitycaster]

I love the current discourse because a "woman with a crippling traumatic pasts, gets help of her party to heal from it and spends the rest of her life living a simple quiet life with her lesbian partner" is not the problem, and it has been done before in CR, it's Yasha

If you think about it, Laudna and Yasha's characters mirror each other in more ways than just a monochromatic palette, but one wound up being more interesting and earned her epilogue better and it's not the one that was present for all 100+ episodes of her respective campaign

Yeah; this has come up a TON but like. I have watched/listened to all or part of the following actual play series:

Critical Role (almost everything barring a few one shots, mostly from C1-era)

TAZ (afaik everything except a couple of the most recent episodes)

NADDPod (everything)

RQG (only main campaign and main-campaign canon sidequests, not one-shots, but I listened to all of that)

Relics and Rarities (all)

D20 (most)

Desiquest (first 2 episodes)

Into the Motherlands (first 2 seasons)

Burnt Cookbook Party (haven't listened the last few months for life reasons but intend to catch up, was otherwise caught up)

WBN (first 3 arcs, intend to catch up)

I also am a regular listener to NADDPod and Critical Role's talkback shows. I've been a regular DM since 2020 and had DM-ed one shots prior; I've been playing D&D and occasional other TTRPGs since 2016. I've read a number of articles on the topics of actual play as a form and TTRPGs and discuss it with friends. I'm saying all of this to make it clear: people can tell themselves that I'm stupid and uninformed and don't know what I'm talking about, and I think we all know they're just mad I disagree with them and am a better and more convincing writer to boot, and they're entitled losers who want me to write posts that make them feel good solely through what I'd call bullying but really it's more like if someone tried to shove me in a locker and accidentally gave themselves a concussion running headfirst into a locker, and I filmed it.

ANYWAY getting to the point yeah Yasha tells a story that hits the same core beats while also being a superior character on every level. She also had a difficult and abusive childhood (starting from a younger age) and experienced great loss and injustice, and also committed great harm. In her grief she was taken advantage of by sinister forces that sought to use and control her, and while she was able to escape with assistance, the bindings followed her. She continued to experience loss, and despite fighting back succumbed to her past controllers until her friends - not some stranger, but the people she'd met, coupled with her own abilities - broke her free, and she was able to meaningfully and rewardingly end her servitude. She messily worked through her feelings and in the process found love, and, having been forced to be a weapon and killer, made a choice to set that aside and find her own identity.

Any claim that Laudna's story manages to touch in a meaningful way on the same notes, when she never takes charge of her own destiny and simply drifts and flops about through various paths of least resistance until settling back in a rut, is a desperate and sad lie told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

I say this as someone who thinks that Critical Role campaign 2 is the best longform campaign of D&D I've seen, and that Candela Obscura Circle of Needle and Thread, Moonward, and EXU Calamity are all some of the best shortform campaigns of actual play: there is nothing I can think of that Campaign 3 does, across the board, that something else in actual play (ie, in this improvised format) doesn't do in a far superior fashion. That's really it. It's mediocre at best. None of these were the casts' strongest character nor relationship and it's certainly Matt's weakest plotting. If you liked it, that's great, but yeah there's nothing special about it.

[mrs-hatake]

Pretty When You Cry

Pairing: zayne x f!reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, grief, mourning.

Synopsis: Y/N sees her childhood friend and long time crush crying for the first time.

a/n: i'm not a doctor nor do i have any knowledge about the hospital's hierarchy so sorry for the wrong info ;-; inspired by my own post, this and this . i actually wanted to write for sylus and caleb but zayne stole the show oops

Navigating through a dimly lit room isn’t challenging. It’s the eerie silence that has Y/N hesitating taking another step forward. 

As always, the apartment and bedroom are impeccable. There are no clothes strewn about here and there. Everything is organized by name, color and expiry date. Everything’s so clean that a surgeon can probably operate on the wooden floor. 

Y/N stops in front of the bedroom door.

It isn’t closed. There’s a small opening where light –no doubt from the dolphane night light she had gifted him years ago– is penetrating through the gap. The pale blue light reminds Y/N of the small illumination that sometimes accompanies the burst of ice whenever Zayne uses his cryo powers. Captivating, beautiful and icy to the touch. 

Taking in a deep breath, Y/N gently pushes the bedroom door open.

Nothing seems out of place at first glance. 

Some of the books Zayne has been reading to write his research are still piling up on his desk from a week ago. Y/N can see the potted plants she and Zayne had bought through the years to give his home a more lived in atmosphere still decorating his room. 

If Y/N hasn’t received that ominous phone call this morning, she wouldn’t think anything is wrong. 

But then takes another step forward and steps onto something squishy. Startled by the unexpected sensation, Y/N’s gaze glances downwards. The succulent plant bunny plushie that Zayne had won last year is flattened like a pancake under her socks clad foot. 

Slowly, Y/N bends down and picks up the doll, holding it firmly against her chest. 

She goes to place it back on the bed but she freezes in place at what she sees before her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed with disheveled hair and rumpled clothes is her childhood best friend and long time crush, Zayne. He is hunched over, heaviness clinging onto him like expensive cologne. 

“Zayne?” Y/N calls out his name, slow and gentle. She approaches him the way one might approach a frightened animal. 

When Zayne doesn’t respond, Y/N moves closer.

“What’s wrong?”

It’s a stupid thing to ask, Y/N knows this. She received a call from the head of department from the hospital Zayne works at. Though the entire conversation is cryptic and brief, Y/N is smart enough to pick up on the hidden message. 

“Zayne.” Y/N tries again and this time, the young intern responds. 

Zayne turns his head to face Y/N and she musters up all the strength to not gasp nor gap at the state Zayne is currently in.

Fair skin is tinted with a rosy hue around the corner of Zayne’s eyes and the tip of his nose. His cheeks are stained with dried tear tracks which have alarm bells ringing in Y/N’s head. 

Quick as lightning, Y/N sits next to Zayne, not caring if her sudden movement might scare him off. 

“Zayne, please, talk to me.” Y/N pleads. 

Zayne closes his eyes, his silence as he tries to drag emotion back under where he doesn’t need to feel it. But Y/N’s plea, filled with fear and concern, has his eyes brimming with tears again.

Startled, Y/N throws her arms around Zayne and pulls him into her embrace, just like she did with the plushie, desperately holding onto him and protecting him from whatever’s tormenting him.

Y/N She rocks gently back and forth, hoping that the lulling movements will stop Zayne’s precious tears from falling. Her hand rubs up and down Zayne’s arm in soothing motion as her lips press gentle kisses on his head. 

Zayne lays limp in her arms, yet he instinctively shifts, pressing his face into the soft curve of Y/N's neck. His body trembles as he chokes on a sob, memories of this morning resurfacing like angry tidal waves. Y/N’s gentle touches are like cool balm to his flesh wounds but they can only do so much.

When the tremors stop, Y/N tenderly pulls back but is sure to have Zayne firmly in her arms. 

It is difficult for Zayne to see Y/N past the tears clouding his eyes. Though, the delicate caress of Y/N's fingertips glides over Zayne's cheeks, tenderly sweeping away his tears, each stroke reminiscent of a soothing spell. Like magic, the tears slowly come to a stop. 

Zayne’s eyes red and glassy from crying, while his lower lip trembles slightly, jutting out in a vulnerable pout. His voice, hoarse and strained, breaks the silence as he whispers, “She didn’t make it.” 

Just like the person who is the head of the department, Zayne’s statement is vague. Yet it helps Y/N connect the dots as the voice of the older man echoes in her head.

“Dr. Zayne operated on a six year old girl today.”

[reidrum]

let it once be me | the prophecy part 3

note: hey ,,, remember her ,,,,,,,,, ! feeling hashtag nervous to post this but pls tell me ur thoughts this went through !!! so many drafts !!! almost lost my mind like thirty times lol but thank u for reading <3 (reading prior parts may be helpful in having context for this part but im not really sure it's necessary, they're way shorter than this part either way)

summary: you and spencer are faced with yet another wedge in your relationship, and you're not sure if it'll survive this time

cw: heavy spoilers for everett lynch arc (15.10), we're ignoring the cm tl and time doesn't exist, maeve flashback, hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending !

wc: 8k (wtf)

part 1 part 2

Spencer feels he’s lived many lives, and that his lived experiences have thoroughly prepared him to navigate novel situations with a small familiarity. A cushion really, to allow him the comfort of seeing the path before he has to walk it blind. It almost acts as a sense of pride for him, a testament to what he’s overcome and capable of facing.

There’s nothing prideful about how awful things have been going with you.

It’s been weeks since your talk with him. Weeks since he vowed to prove to you that you were it for him, and he’s made so little progress he finds it embarrassing for someone with his caliber of intellect.

He’s toeing a fine line between being in your presence enough for you to see that he’s trying, and giving you  space so that you don’t feel smothered. It was harder in the immediate days after your talk, when you couldn’t even stand to stay in the same room as him for more than five minutes. You had come home to his apartment the day after having decided Penelope had enough of your moping. Once you got in you immediately went to settle into the guest room.

It was near radio silent between you both those first few days. He didn’t want to force you, but it didn’t feel great when you would leave a room as soon as he’d enter. As the days went on, Spencer started getting resourceful. He’d make you breakfast in the morning and leave it on the table for you, your coffee next to it made exactly how you take it. Then it was little notes left in the most random places, all written with different things he loved about you. He never saw your reaction when you read them, but they’d always disappear from its spot the next day. Little things to remind you he’s there for you.

More days passed and it finally felt like the ice was starting to melt away. You’d started lingering longer in the living room if he was sat at the table still. One time you even made breakfast for the both of you, and although you weren’t there to eat it with him Spencer had never felt more hopeful.

In the field your dynamics changed even more. Normally, he would make sure to be paired up with you in the field to personally ensure that you were being safe. Since the fallout however, he didn’t want to be an unwelcome presence that only left you more tense in high stake situations. So he’d do things like privately tell Emily to double check your bulletproof vest, or make sure Luke was at your 6 if he couldn’t do it himself.

The last thing he wanted was for your current circumstance with each other, one that he knows he created, to distract you in the field and god forbid cause something to happen to you. He would never forgive himself if you got hurt because of him, but Spencer remembers he’s already done the worst hurt he can fathom to you, and what he really means is that he can’t afford to hurt you any further. As much as it worried him to do so, he had reluctantly learned to place some trust in his teammates to keep you safe. It was a balance he’d learned to adapt to.

It worked fine until it didn’t.

The silent car ride from the jet back to your apartment was so thick with tension, but not the one you’ve both become accustomed to over the weeks. No this was a different strain of anger, one that descended down to the primal nature of your relationship—you endangering yourself.

Spencer opens the door, barely waiting for you to enter behind him before slamming it shut. “That, what you did today, was fucking reckless.”

The anger flares through your widened eyes, “Reckless? I saved the hostages, Spencer. He would have killed them!”

“And what about you?”

“What about me, I had it handled.” you huff.

He raises his hands in exasperation, “He had a gun to your head!” he yells, “You have no idea what it’s like to see that.”

“This isn’t the first time someone drew a weapon on me, and there’s definitely more times than I can count when they’ve drawn one on you,” you pause, “Or is it different right now because you got deja vu?”

“What’s that supposed to mean—” Spencer’s face pales in recognition, “That’s not fair.”

“The hell do you mean it’s not fair? You expect me to believe otherwise?”

“He was going to shoot you!” he loudly repeats, “You don’t think I care about your safety?”

“I think you only give a shit right now because you thought another girl you loved was about to get her brains blown out in front of you. Again.”

He’s stunned into silence. Your words feel like a paralytic to Spencer. Like venom slowly traveling down his veins seizing any chance for his body to save himself. All the progress he thinks you both have made just unraveled itself into nothing. It’s paradoxical that his mind is quiet. You’re usually the reason his mind can relax, but somehow you’ve achieved the same outcome by metaphorically stabbing him square in the face.

He can’t understand when you developed the idea that he could care less about you. He can’t understand how you can even think he would be capable of 

of not being with you entirely. He can’t understand where along the line you started believing that he stopped loving you.

It may not be a sentiment you actually hold, but he prides himself on being a good profiler, and more so knowing you better than himself. He knows that’s what you’re thinking, and there’s nothing he can do to fix it.

He speaks under his breath after a couple of minutes,  “How long are we going to keep doing this?”

“Doing what—“

“This!” He gestures wildly with his hands. “This back and forth where you’ve convinced yourself you’re able to move past this but clearly can’t!”

You stare at him, “Look, I’m trying.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

The familiar sting burns the backs of your eyes, the first sign of your resolve crumbling. “That’s not fair.”

He sighs and moves closer, your head hanging low and finding the wooden floor patterns deeply interesting. “You won’t even look at me.” he whispers, “Do you still love me?”

You look up at him stunned, “Spencer…I—I do…It’s just…”

He feels his heart breaking in a new way, “That’s not convincing.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, I guess I can't,” he shakes his head defeatedly. “I don’t know what else I can do, baby.”

“…I want to forgive you.”

Spencer’s eyes blur from tears, “But you can’t.”

“I don’t know how,” you whisper before a sardonic chuckle leaves you, “You know me, memory like an elephant.”

Spencer refrains from telling you that dolphins are actually the species with the longest memory capacity, and that the reason for possessing such a feature is to maintain the social dynamics and relationships that come with survival in the ocean. A dolphin’s memory is what keeps them rooted back to where they belong, being able to remember individuals and behaviors even after being apart for so long. That no matter how far they stray, they’ll always come home. 

He settles for a soft agreement, “Yeah, I do know you.”

You make the mistake of meeting his eyes, equally and tragically as broken as yours, puffy and red rimmed.

“I don’t know what to do.” you whisper brokenly.

“I don’t either.”

The silence weighs heavy in the living room. The metronomic tick of the clock becomes louder, the birds and the wind outside whistle louder. You’re cornered, forced to come to face the results. And like a prey backed into the corner you do what the prey do best—You run.

“I have to go.” you grab the keys and put your shoes on.

“What?” he steps closer, “You can’t just leave, we just got home.”

“I can’t be here right now,” your voice cracks, “I just…need some time to think.”l

Spencer’s heart falls straight through the floor. Time to think about what? Is this when the foundation beneath you both finally buckles under the immense pressure it’s been on for weeks, and you’re left to scavenge the ruins?

As much as it pains him to let you walk out the door, he knows that nothing would be accomplished at home and it would only hurt you more to stay.

“Okay.” he whispers.

“Okay.”

“Be safe.” I love you.

You look back, “I will. You too.” I love you too.

The door shuts gentler this time, as if careful not to disturb the few pieces of Spencer still left standing behind the door. It doesn’t matter, they’ve already fallen over. Any resolve he had left is slipping away with every step you take further away, never feeling more defeated in his life than this moment.

He trudges over to the study, hoping he can at least bury himself in work to distract himself from the turmoil of his reality. The desk is strewn across with files and papers, mentally making a list of the tasks he has to do. At the top of his to-do list is the Everett Lynch case, having just closed the case a few days back meaning the paperwork would be due to the brass soon.

Spencer glances over the open file and reviews the details of the final moments of the case, recalling the stark change in Lynch’s MO that still left him puzzled. The victimology and the profile just didn’t add up to what actually happened, why he ended up dying with his mother in the house. That wasn’t supposed to happen, Spencer wasn’t supposed to send five SWAT agent in not knowing their fate only seconds later. How the case simply ended anticlimactically after nearly a year long chase. A dull ache begins to form in his head as he thinks, the bureau is going to have a field day processing this case.

He rubs his forehead with his hand to soothe the pain building up, making a note to get painkillers after he finishes. As he continues to read the file he starts to see his confusion take a basis as the initial profile doesn’t add up at all to what actually happened, in fact for as long as he evaded the FBI he really shouldn’t have just, died.

Spencer freezes. Did he die?

Lynch wouldn’t just commit suicide, that was too easy. He watched the house blow up with him and his mother inside, not even including the agents the explosion took out with it. The pain in his head is too much to bear at this point and he decides that getting Advil can’t wait until he’s done. He stands up and immediately wobbles as he grips the desk for support. Through the blurred vision and spinning room Spencer tries to makes sense of Lynch’s discrepancy. 

Everett Lynch wouldn’t commit suicide, because he didn’t. 

“He’s still alive.” he realizes gravely. Then it all goes black.

———

You get in your car and drive off to god knows where, just not there. It’s sheer autopilot driving you to the other side of town, which is more than welcomed as the tears threaten to blur your vision coming down in hot trails. You end up pulling into the parking lot of your favorite donut shop, one that you discovered with Spencer a little before you started dating. There was time to kill after being paired up to visit the unsub’s  dump site and you were so insistent about needing a sweet treat, Spencer thought it was clinical.

“You’re acting like you’ll die if we don’t stop for a, what did you call it? A sweet treat?”

“I will!” you whine, “Don’t you know that girls, specifically me, are mandated to have at least one sweet treat per day?”

He pulls into the parking lot of the donut shop he’d spotted on the way there. “Oh yeah? What happens if you don’t?” he teases.

“You’ll see me as the unsub in the next case.”

Spencer can’t help the laugh that leaves him, loud and earnest. “Alright, c’mon. We already have enough criminals to last us till retirement.”

You and Spencer are definitely not together at this moment in time, but the little old lady owner of the shop really can’t believe otherwise as she watches you both bicker about which flavors you’re getting for the half dozen box. She’s almost certain you’re together as she watches Spencer end up getting all the flavors you wanted despite putting up a fight for others. And she’s fully convinced, with no room for sway, that you are together as Spencer pulls his card out before you can even protest and watches as you miss the look he gives you as you dramatically sigh in content after the first bite.

Spencer would later tell you after a few months together, that the donut shop was the first time he realized he was in love with you. You recall how the same half dozen would appear on your desk every Friday since that first visit, with one chocolate sprinkled donut missing but placed on a napkin on Spencer’s desk. You would joke that he pavloved his way into your heart with donuts, but wouldn’t reveal your true cards that you fell in love with Spencer after a month on the job. The donut shop happened the week after.

“You alright, hon?” the little old lady owner breaks your thoughts.

You look around and realize you’ve walked yourself into the shop. You wipe at your eyes quickly, “I’m okay, Dolores. Can I just get the usual half dozen please?”

She’s not convinced but it seems she knows better than to ask and pry. She gathers the usual six donuts for the box, slipping in an extra one just for good measure, and rings you up at the register.

“Seven right?” you mumble as you file through your bag for the loose ten.

Dolores smiles, “It’s on the house today, hon. Don’t worry.”

You look up at her, knowing she’s only doing that because you showed up with tear streaks on your face, “Oh, no it’s okay you don’t have to do that let me just—“

She pushes the box towards you, “You both tip enough to cover the box anyway, please just take it. Hope you feel better soon, hon.”

Her kind gesture thaws your heart out a little and you give her a small smile. “Thanks, Dolores.”

You walk back to your car, locking the doors once you get in. You don’t move to turn the car on, opting to allow your emotions to overflow again in solitude with the comfort of a bavarian kreme donut. The tears prick your eyes on instinct thinking of the current state of your life, of your relationship.

Spencer was right, have you convinced yourself you’re capable of moving past this? You do still love Spencer, you knew that much. But you are hurt, you are tired, and you just want to stop feeling like you’ll always come in second place even when there’s no one to occupy first place. You’ve waited so long to feel chosen, like someone has waited all their life for someone like you to come around. Meeting Spencer felt like finding the little daisies that grew in between the cracks of concrete, proof that despite your stone hard exterior you were still worthy of being loved.

The sound of your phone ringing jolts you up, almost dropping your donut. With your free hand you look at the caller and press accept.

“Hi, Emily.” you try to make your voice sound even.

“Hey we’ve got a—wait are you okay?”

You clear your throat, “Yeah, totally fine don’t worry. What’s up?”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe you but Emily really doesn’t have time right now, “Listen, Lynch is still alive.”

You almost choke. “What?”

“The casualty report doesn’t include Lynch and they couldn’t find his body anywhere. While they were searching the house they found tunnels. He escaped.”

“Fuck, okay what do you need me to do?”

“There’s a gas station clerk who thinks he saw him and his car, I need you and Matt to go check it out and see what he knows.”

You scramble to put your donut down and wipe your hands on the napkin, “Yeah, of course I’m on my way.”

“Okay, Matt will meet you there,” she pauses, “I…Is Spencer with you?”

Your heart clenched again, “No, he’s not. He’s at the apartment.”

Emily hums, “He didn’t pick up when I called, it’s okay I’ll send JJ and Penelope to go get him. Reconvene at the bureau in a couple hours?”

“Sounds good.” you hang up and immediately start driving over to the gas station. Something doesn’t feel right, you can feel it in your gut. You quickly check Spencer’s location just to be safe, and relax when you see he’s still at home. He’s probably just taking a nap.

What Emily decides you can’t ever know about is the call she gets twenty minutes later from a hysterically crying Penelope, who in between sobs tells her that they’re on the way to George Washington Hospital. That when JJ and Penelope opened the door to Spencer’s apartment he was passed out on the floor, blood dripping from his nose. How when JJ went to start CPR he entered a seizure and coded in the ambulance.

No, you can’t know this, because Emily knows that the call alone that she has to give you is going to shatter your broken pieces even further.

—

You pull out your phone to call Emily and see an incoming call from her, “Hey, I was just about to call you. The guy said he drove a red ford pickup, we were able to get the license plate from the security cameras but it came up as a stolen plate—“ 

Emily says your name in a tone you’ve never heard her use. It makes you stop in your tracks, an icy chill shooting down your spine, “What?”

“Something’s happened.”

You step outside of the gas station shop holding your breath, “What do you mean?”

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose, “It’s about Spencer, he’s…”

She pauses for too long. The panic rises fast. “Emily.”

“They found him passed out on the floor of his apartment. Penelope called 911 and they’re on the way to the hospital right now.”

No. 

No, no, no.

The color drains from your face as fast as your heart plunges to the ground. “Wh—what?”

She’s lying, she has to be right? You just saw Spencer literally a few hours ago and he was fine. No signs of distress or anything, she has to be lying. She has to be lying.

“The EMT thinks he has a brain bleed, it um…caused him to have a seizure when JJ and Penelope found him.”

The nausea rises before you can anticipate it, scanning your surroundings for a trash can and immediately hurling up the contents of your stomach. Wiping your mouth with your sleeve you put the phone back to your ear, “Which hospital?”

“George Washington Memorial, they should already be there by now.”

“Okay, I’m on the way.” you sniffle.

Emily doesn’t know what other encouraging words she can provide you, she doesn’t think any words exist to comfort herself even let alone you. “Keep me updated please.”

The call ends and you have to steady yourself on the nearby wall, head reeling with mountainous emotions and unable to make sense of any of them. 

You look around through blurred eyes for Matt calling out to him, “Matt, Matt give me the keys I need to go to the hospital.” you hold a shaky hand out.

He looks at you confused and concerned, “What? Are you okay, why do you need to go—“

“Sp—“ you stutter, unable to even speak the words into existence, “Spencer’s in the hospital.”

Matt’s face pales, “I’ll drive you, come on.”

—

“They said it’s a brain bleed.” you mumble after a few minutes of silence in the car.

“A brain bleed? How could that have…” he trails off in realization.

“What?” you ask nervously.

He grips the steering wheel harder, “The bomb, at the Lynch house.”

Fuck. The EMTs who checked him out that day said he only had a mild concussion, nothing else to be concerned about. A few cuts and scratches but nothing that wouldn’t heal. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him.

You sniffle and hastily wipe at your face again, your skin growing red with irritation with every contact.

Matt looks at you with a look he wouldn’t call pity, but certainly close, “It’s going to be okay, he’ll pull through. He always does.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as if it could prevent the fresh wave of tears from falling, “You don’t know that.”

He sighs deeply and turns into the hospital parking lot, stopping in front of the entrance, “Go in, I’ll park the car.”

You open the car door and rush inside the lobby, finding the receptionist immediately. She looks up at you and her face softens in empathy, “Who are you here for?”

“Um, Spencer Reid. He should have just gotten in.” you strain.

The receptionist clacks a few buttons on her keyboard before speaking again, “It looks like he’s in the ICU, are you blood related?”

“Are we…what?” you ask confused.

“Well honey, because he’s in the ICU we can only let in blood related family or spouses to stay with them.”

You outwardly deflate, “Oh…I—“

“She’s his fiancée!”

You look to the source of the new voice and are met with Penelope, donning matching red rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks. Her eyes look at you in silent communication and you turn back to the desk, “Y—Yeah, I’m his fiancée.”

If the receptionist isn’t convinced she doesn’t show it, willing to turn a blind eye in pure understanding of the situation. “Room 204.”

“Thank you.” You duck down the hall scanning the numbers before coming up on 204, the door cracked open slightly. Your hand hovers over the handle in hesitation, scared of what you’ll find on the other side. Penelope comes up behind you and rests her hand on yours and helps you open the door.

The sight hits you like a truck. All the wires hooked up to his limbs pumping IV fluids and the heart monitor beeping steadily. He’s paler than you’ve ever seen him. His skin is clammy, the hair sticking to his forehead. You can see that from across the room and all you can think about is how uncomfortable he must feel from the sweat coating him. You used to tease him once upon a time when he’d sometimes take multiple showers a day because of how much it bothered him.

“Another shower? Spence, our water bill is about to be crazy.”

He laughs and waves you off, “Don’t worry about that, I can charge the water bill as bureau compensation.”

“Okay, one that sounds illegal. Two, the more time you spend in the shower, the less time you spend with me.” you moan with fake petulance.

You yelp as he suddenly sneaks up behind you, caging you to his chest with his arms, “So join me.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of getting clean?” you giggle, leaning your head back into the crevice of his neck.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, “You do know what showers are for, right?”

You nod, “To get clean! It would get even dirtier before it got cleaner.”

“I think that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

The smile on your face grows the widest it can before you break off into a sprint down the hallway towards the bathroom, Spencer trailing behind with your laughs mixing in the light air.

You don’t know why you’re thinking so deeply about the state of his perspiration, maybe a convoluted defense mechanism your brain conjured up so you don’t have to come to terms with Spencer lying near comatose a few feet away.

Your feet hesitantly carry you closer to the bed, feeling somewhat calmed by the slow rise and fall of his chest. You lean down and look him over, as if you could see the damaged inflicted on him even though it’s nestled deep in his brain. Spencer always said his brain would lead to his demise, and you hope all those times you played it off as a joke that it cemented itself as one, a joke. That you would be able to see his hazel eyes open again and they’d fill you with reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere, that all he needed in this world was you, and that he loved you.

You will and wish and hope to have his eyes open. You try not to think about if you’ll ever get to see them again.

A choked sob escapes your throat before you can help it, your hand coming over your mouth to muffle the impact. Spencer is hurt. Spencer is fighting for his life, and you were fighting him not even a few hours ago.

“Oh, honey,” Penelope reaches for your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, “He’s gonna be okay, the doctors said the surgery went well. Just waiting for him to wake up now.”

You cry even harder and Penelope tightens her grip on you, determined to not let you fall further down the slope.

“W—We got into a fight,” you sniffle, “before I left. It was bad, Penny. He was so mad, and then I was so mad. And then I just left.”

“You didn’t know this would happen, honey. None of us did.”

“I didn’t even say I love you. Th—The last conversation we had was a fucking fight a—and now…” you cry, “He can’t die, Pen. He can’t die I didn’t even get to tell him—“

Penelope grabs your face with both of her hands, “Hey. No, we’re not doing that. We are not spiraling, not when there’s no reason to. Okay?”

Whatever response you had falls dead on your lips when you take another look at Spencer’s motionless body on the bed. The calmness on his face is a stark difference from the Spencer you saw only a few hours ago.

She was right, there’s nothing you can do right now but wait. You’d just have to trust that Spencer would pull through.

You almost chuckle dryly through the tears. Trust and Spencer? The irony of it all laughs in your face.

—

Spencer’s eyes blink open and adjust to the bright light blinding him. He takes in his surroundings and realizes he’s standing in the middle of the bullpen. That’s weird, he thinks, I thought I was in the study.

“Reid, you sure you don’t want to join me and Elle in Jamaica?” Derek sings, “My guy can swing you a great deal.”

Derek? Elle?

He snaps his head in the direction of the voice, seeing Derek not even looking in his direction but still looking towards Spencer. Just, a different and much younger Spencer.

“Have a great two weeks off everyone, you all deserve it. Don’t call me at my cabin.” Gideon rushes out as he beelines to the door right past Spencer. “Seriously, don’t call me.”

Gideon? But Gideon…died. Where is he?

The scene changes with a snap and suddenly he’s back in his apartment, his old apartment. The one he lived in before he moved in with you. He is definitely in a dream, though with the vividity and theme of important people in his past he’s not entirely sure he’s only sleeping. A head of blonde hair on his couch catches his eye. He slowly walks around and his breath hitches at who he sees.

“Maeve?”

She smiles softly, “Hi Spencer.”

He slowly walks around the couch and kneels in front of her. The tears prick his eyes before he can help it, “I didn’t think I’d get to see you again. I—I’m so sorry for—“

Maeve holds a hand up, “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, I promise. You did what you could. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“It’s not?”

She shakes her head. “You’re dying, Spence.”

His face falls, “I am?”

“Collateral from the explosion, you have a brain bleed.”

It takes a few minutes for him to comprehend what she said, and he can feel his head spinning fast in his head. He can’t actually be dying right? The explosion happened days ago and yet now is when his brain decides to tap out, that can’t be right.

It simply cannot be right because that’s when he remembers you and the last conversation he had with you, and he has to clutch his heart at the prospect of his fate.

He won’t know if you’ll ever forgive him, if you’ll ever learn to trust him again, if you even still love him. He won’t know anything if he dies. He cannot die.

“M—Maeve, I can’t be here I—“

She places her hand atop of his own and he feels her. He can feel her hand on his, like she’s real and here.  It’s alarming, and warm. “I know, it’s okay. C’mon, let’s go for a walk.”

Maeve gestures for him to follow her and before his eyes the scene changes again to a nearby park, one that looks a little too familiar to him.

She starts walking through the park, “We’re all okay up here you know? I get to read a lot more now, there’s so much time to read and postulate. Sometimes I get lucky and I can meet the authors. I got to meet Kant and Dostoevsky a while ago, very interesting people. Gideon plays with this nice little octopus friend. I know he’s having the best time.” she laughs, “But you, Spencer Reid, are not okay down there.”

He looks up at her and swallows, “I know.”

She turns onto the fork in the trail, “What’s holding you back?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs.

“I think you do know.”

A few silent minutes pass. “I…I’m scared to let myself be happy again,” he admits.

Maeve looks at him with a saddened smile, “And why’s that?”

Because everything he loves leaves him. Because when he laughs just a little too hard, he’s already scanning the surroundings waiting for the other shoe to fall. Because when Spencer feels he’s trekked up the mountain with long and winding breaths, something always seems to be waiting at the top ready to knock him down.

“Don’t think I deserve it, to be honest.” he admits, “I keep…messing up everytime.”

Maeve stops walking, “You love so deeply, Spencer. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

“Emphasis on the curse.” he deprecates.

“It’s only a curse because you don’t let yourself feel wholly. I know given everything that’s happened it’s hard but,” she pauses, “You’re not a clipped bird, Spence. You just…lost a few feathers. Nothing you can’t get back.”

It’s easier said than done when it feels like his mere existence causes you pain as of late.

“I feel like I have to hold parts of me back so I can protect her…from myself.”

Maeve turns to him, “She deserves all of you, Spence. It is a privilege to be loved by you, but it’s a greater privilege to be loved. And you deserve to feel loved.”

“What if I ruin it?” More accurately, what if he’s already ruined it, is what he means.

“You are not destined for sorrow and misery, despite what your life has made you think. She loves you. She would not have stayed this long if she didn’t. But there is one thing I think she could use from you.”

Spencer looks at her expectantly waiting for her to continue.

“She wants to feel chosen, Spencer. And I know you think you choose her everyday just by loving her. But the reality is, you can’t fully choose her without choosing yourself first. That means allowing yourself to be happy.”

A few stray tears streak down his face and he haphazardly wipes them away. For the entirety of Spencer’s life his purpose was to be of service to others. With his intelligence, his kindness, his courage. His needs always came second because the few times he thought to put himself first, disaster struck. 

When he met you this notion only reinforced itself, wanting to ensure he could make you as happy as he could. You became his priority and he didn’t mind that at all. It was easy being with you, you made life feel easy. So when Spencer started to let his guard down piece by piece, allowing himself the little bits of your happiness to seep into his being, he wasn’t thinking about the abyss that had always loomed over him his whole life.

He couldn’t, not when you managed to infiltrate his entire existence by wrapping and tethering yourself to him with strings of gold. How could he? You made things so easy.

But then prison happened. Then Cat, again. Then Maeve, again. Three strikes. It should have been game over by now. He broke your trust, betrayed your love and he wasn’t sure if you would even stay long enough to see the damage unfold. But you did, and he still can’t really figure out why.

So here he is in limbo? Purgatory? Some figment of his mind in the wake of near death that is giving him the opportunity to make amends. Not with Maeve or Gideon or you or any other grudge he has yet to settle in his life. No, he has the chance to make amends with himself and forgive himself for standing in the way of what he really deserves.

A faint beeping in the distance reels him back to the present moment, Maeve’s face coming into focus again. The dull ache in his eyes coming forward again with how many tears are falling.

“Love is our true destiny, we do not find the meaning of it alone, we find it with another.”

He smiles with a watery chuckle, “Thomas Merton.”

“Spencer, I promise you, you will be happy again. And forever. Just keep the door open when it comes knocking.”

The beeping starts to get louder, like it’s approaching him fast. A warm glow begins to build around him, then light. He looks around the park again and sees the trees and benches begin to blur. He looks at Maeve as she stands with a fond smile, her figure slowly fading as well.

“Take care, Spencer.” and with a blink Maeve is gone.

In the silence he is left in, he looks to the epitaph of Jason Gideon in front of him and back to the spot where Maeve was standing, whispering a soft, “You too.” before closing his eyes and succumbing to the beeping.

—

It’s been 4 hours since you’ve been sat next to his bed. You’d be a lot more concerned than you were, which is already a lot, if it wasn’t for his heartbeat monitor beeping steadily throughout the hours. A sign of life, as morbid as it sounds, but it’s hard to be rational given the circumstances.

It had taken all of 3.5 hours for you to braven up and hold his hand in comfort. Hour one you simply stared at his hand, as if it would regain mobility and reach out for you. Hour two you were able to place your hand on the bed, not anywhere near his obviously. But enough to feel close, satiated. By hour three you had your fingers mere millimeters from his own, feeling like a magnetic force of the same poles was repelling you.

The 3.5 hour mark is when the exhaustion of the day caught up to you, and finally allowed yourself to relax in his hand.

At hour 4.5 is when you felt the twitch.

You look up and whisper, “Spencer?”

He slowly opens his eyes, revealing his hazel brown irises with gold flecks on the insides that meet yours sitting right beside him. You can see the recognition begin to flood his face, but is stopped momentarily when he starts to panic realizing the breathing tube is still in his throat. You hit the call button besides his bed and watch the doctors rush in to help stabilize him back down.

It’s another two hours of testing and scans before the three of you are left alone again, with the nurse promising to check on him in a few hours.

You’re stiff next to him, unsure what to do now that he’s awake and perceiving you again. With a small voice you speak, “They said they found you in the study.”

Spencer racks his brain for memories of before his fall, only able to remember bits and pieces. He remembers fighting with you and when you left. He remembers walking to the study. And he remembers reading…”Lynch! Did you get him? He’s still alive, you have to call Emily—“

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you shush. “We know he’s still alive, they’ve almost got him right now. It’s okay.”

That seems to make him visibly relax knowing the immediate stressor was almost resolved. Now there’s just the matter of the other elephant in the room.

“You’re here.”

Your eyes soften as your brows raise in shock, “Of course I’m here, Spence.”

He stares at you and takes in your features—your puffy cheeks and red eyes, the skin around your nails picked to death, your lip nearly split in half from the bites and bleeding. He needs to apologize again, he knows that. But the second he opens his mouth you cut him off.

“Penny, can you give us a minute please?”

She smiles and stands, “Sure hon, I’ll be right outside.”

Once she leaves you turn back to Spencer, “We don’t have to talk about all of that anymore, it’s okay. You’re hurt and that’s more important right now.”

He should have expected that you would do this, selflessly push your discomfort and feelings down because someone you cared about was hurting. It was one of the few things he didn’t like that you did, and he’s not going to let it go again.

“Angel, you can’t forgive me just because you thought I was going to die.” he says sadly.

You’re taken aback. “I—I know.”

He swallows, “I really want you to.”

Your eyes blur again, “I know.” Another pause. “I’m trying really hard.”

A gentle squeeze, “I know.”

“I…I still love you, Spence. I don’t think that will ever change, but I’m nervous if one day it won’t be enough…that I won’t be enough.” you trail off.

Again, he shouldn’t be surprised that’s what you’re thinking. He hasn’t done a very good job at convincing you yet. It still hurts knowing that you feel that way.

“Do you know what I thought about everyday when I was in Millburn?”

You shake your head as he continues, “I thought about how when you eat cupcakes you tear the bottom half and stick it on top to make a cupcake sandwich. When we’re watching Doctor Who and you’re singing along to the theme song with only syllables. How you let me eat the olives on your plate and I give you the pickles on mine.”

“Why would you be thinking about that?” you ask confused.

“Because I don’t think I would have survived if I didn’t.”

The lump forms in your throat, “But…you took me off the visiting list after the first time I came to see you.”

“I couldn’t let you keep seeing me like that, honey.” he strains, “The way they were looking at you, what they did to me. I had to protect you.”a

You swallow hard, a few tears falling down your face, “Th—That’s not fair, Spence. I understand why you did it, but then when all the other shit happened… I don’t know what I was supposed to believe. I couldn’t stop wondering if I ever was enough for you.”

Spencer can feel his heart splintering.

“You will always be enough, because it is always you. God, sweetheart it’s not even a question of how much, it just is. I see you in everything I do—you’re the tangled headphones we use to listen to music flying back on the jet. You’re the annotations I make when I read something that reminds me of you, or if I think you’d enjoy it. You’re the smell of bavarian kreme donuts from Dolores’ even though the chocolate sprinkle ones are far superior.”

His heart blooms hearing a soft giggle from you, an earnest smile forming on your face.

“You are entangled in the things that make me happy, and you make them too good to be true. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I meant it when I said I would spend all of time making it up to you. You are my Catalina comet, and I love you.”

You can’t help the sob that leaves you as you remember the memory.

“I’m cold Spence, are you sure we’ll be able to see it?”

He tugs you closer under his arm as he keeps trekking to find the perfect spot, a chaste kiss to your temple, “I promise it’ll be worth it. Come on, I think it's a good spot over there.”

You help Spencer set out the blanket on the ground and use the extra one to wrap around you both, huddling closer together as you wait for the celestial body to make its appearance.

“The first time they did the calculations they used old observational data that led to some incorrect results, and they thought the orbit was only four years.”

“They just got it wrong?”

“Not everyone gets it right on the first try, sweet girl.” he says softly, “But then they did the math again, made sure all the factors and numbers were correct. And you know what they found?”

You ponder for a moment, “Did they realize the orbit was longer?”

Spencer beams down at you, “My smart girl. That’s exactly what they found. So when they did the calculations again, they found out that the Catalina comet is even more special than anyone thought. It’s even more of a rare sighting to get to see it, once in a lifetime really.”

You hang onto his every word, captivated by the story, “Do people wish on comets?” you ask doe eyed.

His hand smooths your hair back, “They do, some say the rarer comets have extra special energy to aid their wishes.”

You look at him skeptically, “Do you really believe that?”

“Do you?”

You look back to the sky, “I think I do.”

Spencer doesn’t look away from you, “Then I do too.”

You giggle and lightly shove him, “Cheesy…” He smiles fondly and pulls you closer into his chest, his arms warming you up before you gasp, “Look!”

There across the night sky streaks the Catalina Comet in all her glory, Spencer watches the comet track through Ursa Major and before he can start telling you about why it goes that path, you’ve already clamped your eyes shut and squeezed his hand, silently gesturing for him to do the same.

He complies, obviously. You open your eyes again after making your wish, “Did you make yours?”

Spencer opens his eyes and admiringly looks at you, “Yeah, I did angel.” 

He didn’t need to make any wishes.

“Spence…” you whine through sobs.

His hand comes up shakily to wipe the tears from your cheeks, “Didn’t mean to make you cry, honey.”

“Well, what did you expect by bringing that story up?” you laugh with fake anger.

“To be fair, you were already crying.” he chuckles.

You scoff, “Mean.” You look at his eyes, and really look at him and see nothing but love and adoration staring back at you. You take a deep breath, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I believe you.” his eyes soften, you continue, “I love you.”

He brings your hand up to his lips and gently kisses it, “I love you so much. I’m sorry again, sweet girl.”

You lean up to him on the bed and press a soft kiss to his lips, and Spencer can feel his wounds start to hurt less and less. “You should get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You make yourself as comfy as you can whilst sat on the armchair, bent over to be able to rest your head next to Spencer. It feels okay for a bit, and then he tangles his hand in your hair gently moving back and forth and suddenly you’re satisfied with never moving ever again.

The quiet air between you both is enough to lull you to sleep, before a thought runs through your mind.

“You know something funny,” you mumble, “Pen told the receptionist I was your fiancée so they’d let me see you.”

And poor Spencer, in between his sleepy haze and the dull ache of pain from his injuries, only hears the word fiancée.

“You found the ring?” he sighs, “I thought I hid it well.”

You still under his hand.

“…There’s a ring?”

His eyes shoot open, realizing he misheard you and tries to play it off, “So…Penelope lied to staff. Tsk Tsk.”

“There’s a ring.” you say pointedly, the corners of your lips upturned to reach a smile.

Spencer thinks he can try and get out of this but decides it’s better to come clean, “Fine, okay. Of course there’s a ring.”

“Of course?”

The surprise on your face honestly stuns Spencer, and he feels a little saddened that you were in disbelief of the possibility.

“Yeah baby, of course.”

Your bottom lip wobbles with a creeping suspicion of his answer, “How long have you had it?”

“Got it after our six month.”

You shakily exhale. There is no ounce of doubt in your body that he loves you, and that you really are all he needs. “ ‘M sorry I ruined the surprise.”

He grins, “It’s okay, you won’t know when I’m going to do it. It’ll knock you off your feet, I promise.”

You definitely aren’t expecting it during a Planetarium date months later where he got the museum people to show the Catalina Comet passing over you both as he got down on one knee. You are expecting the endless stream of tears from the both of you, the aching cheeks from smiling too much, and the multiple missed attempts at sliding the ring on from how much you both were shaking.

[simply-mei]

timebomb

am i the only one who doesn't like timebomb? i mean theres nothing wrong with liking the ship i obviously wouldn't judge others for having a different opinion than me, but lots of things about the ship just doesn’t sit right with me personally.

like for example ekko was in the au for only two days (he showed up two days before his au self was supposed to show off his project and left the night before which means he was only there for two days) yet in those two days he managed to fall in love with someone who tried to kill him and has killed many of his friends multiple times? i get that he had an obvious cute little crush on her when they were kids (if you pay attention it was pretty obvious and also kinda cute) but that wasn't long lived because she literally switched sides after that and for the next 8 years they weren't in contact (not much contact other than her trying to kill him or/and his friends anyways) like idk about anyone else but i personally wouldn’t fall in love with the person who killed many of my loved ones let alone falling in love with that person within two days that’s just impossible. i understand that he probably still had some lingering feelings for his universe's jinx and that’s why it was so easy for him to fall in love with au powder in just two days but in my opinion it's still too rushed and unrealistic. i couldn’t even begin to imagine myself falling in love with someone who simply talked bad about me behind my back let alone someone who’s killed my loved ones and has tried to kill me too.

i like the IDEA of them like two former childhood friends turned into enemies who are lovers in a different universe and only one of them obtains the knowledge of the fact that they’re lovers in a different life, and so the only one who knows is left yearning for that kind of connection in their current universe as well??? Like that’s such a good trope. normally i’d eat it up, but the way it was portrayed messed it up for me personally, so now i’m left only liking the idea of the ship but not actually fully liking the ship itself, and i don’t think i ever will tbh.

now this is just my personal opinion i didn’t make this post as an opening for people to argue with me or try to change my mind in the comments nor did i make this post to bash anyone who likes the ship since its an overall nice trope and they’re conanly together so i dont see why i’d bash anyone who likes this ship i simply made this post to see if anyone else agrees and to just share my opinion and simply yap on MY blog cause i can do that since its MYYYY blog (say this for the sensitive people who will try to attack me)

[basilone]

I wasn't about to let @blind-dates-fest pass me by, and I'm very excited to get to share this next piece! We're off to a racetrack in Wyoming this time, as we sneak a little peek at Gale Cleven's childhood... and get to know someone new!

It’s one of those slow business days. There’s no big race on today, even though it’s the weekend and there ought to be. It seems to Sally as though the whole of Wyoming is holding its breath for a little while. Waiting for next weekend, when the best horses and finest families will come out for a time on the track. That’s when the season really starts and the money begins to flow.

Well, at least, all of this is according to Mister Danvers from the ticketing booth. Sally doesn’t put a whole lot of stock in the opinion of a man who doesn’t know the difference between a cravat and a bow tie, especially not after he’d said Sally wouldn’t have to add any big numbers because hot dogs are cheap. But then Erica Post of the Post Winery had said the same, minus the snippy comment about Sally’s hot dogs, and so had Susan Rugatti, with the additional comment that Sally’s hair needs fixing.

There’s nothing wrong with her hair.

Sally puffs an exhale and swipes her unruly fringe off her forehead as she takes stock of her stand. Lunch rush has come and gone, insofar as one can call it a rush when it’s just fifteen people and three screaming kids, and the time of afternoon snacks isn’t quite reality yet. If she hurries just a little more than she is right now, she could finish that chapter on how to set broken bones and get a head’s start on next week’s studying.

She could do all of that, even though Miss Audrey’s currently gliding over to her stand with all the air of the faux French aristocracy in her countenance. She’s guiding a young boy not older than ten or eleven by the shoulder. Leaning on the kid, actually, as though she’s quite concerned he’s going to bolt sooner rather than later.

“Good afternoon, Miss Audrey!”

“Sally, ma chérie,” booms the woman, heavily-lidded eyes sparkling with good humor, “you are like an angel’s appearance to me!”

Sally can’t help but laugh at such nonsense. Miss Audrey’s always complimentary like that, often making a whole lot of hubbub about something. She works with hats and hair and harlots, darling – Miss Audrey’s words, not Sally’s – and is to the Wyoming racetrack as the President is to the White House.

“You flatter me,” she says, smiling as the woman draws close to her stand. “How’re the girls? And business?”

“One and the same, one and the same,” waves Miss Audrey, rolling her eyes for good measure. “They ought to be ashamed of themselves for putting us up in that tent right there. I told Mister Barbieri that I can’t cut hair like that, and oh Sally what that awful man told me next cannot be repeated in polite company...”

“They’re expecting some gusts of wind to roll in on Wednesday. You’ll be out of your tent by next weekend, then,” winks Sally, knowing everyone on the track would help foil Mister Barbieri’s best-laid plans any day of the week even though he owns the place. One tent won’t be a match for that kind of determination. “You got any clients coming in today, Miss Audrey?”

“Sure do. Next week’s gonna be a big hubbub, but can’t complain about today neither. I told the little mister here that we’re always happy to see him, but he shouldn’t stick around too long this time.”

Sally gives the kid a quick once-over. “Good of you,” she says, taking in the boy’s small shuffle and his apparent refusal to so much as look at her. “He ain’t one of yours, I know that much”– it’s just Miss Audrey’s Lola who’s got a kid, and that one’s as dark as this one’s fair –“so who’s the kid, anyway?”

“I’m not a kid!” says the boy, before Miss Audrey can even open her mouth to answer for him. His rather fierce glare flashes up at her from beneath his tousled blond hair. “My name is Gale”– there’s demand in the emphasis, a don’t you dare call me otherwise lurking in his tone –“and I’m nine!”

Sally only just manages to hide the largest portion of her smile. “Nice to meet ya, Mister Gale,” she says, resting her chin on her hand as she makes a show of studying him. Collar on a too-neat shirt tugged a little askew, trousers that have been patched up at least twice, some scrapes on his knuckles, and a pair of battered-looking shoes. “My name’s Sally,” she offers, “and I’m nineteen.”

The kid – Gale – nods at her with the tiniest incline of his head. He didn’t object to being called mister, which should not feel like a won battle as much as it does right now. It’s kid he’s got problems with, then, and Sally can hardly blame him for that.

“Gale hasn’t yet had lunch. Or breakfast.” Miss Audrey manages to make it sound like an everyday sort of thing to be told at three in the afternoon, even though her mouth does that funny little disapproving thing that Sally’s never quite been able to mimic. “We had no idea about that until Candy heard that belly rumble, lemme tell ya that!”

Hides hunger, thinks Sally, already busying her hands with a warm bun and a knife. Miss Audrey lets him sit with her girls. A quiet kid, then, if even hard-shelled Candy manages to look out for him. She’s seen the like of him before, usually lurking in a group of rowdier kids, eyes roving everywhere but mouth refusing to show weakness.

“What d’ya want on your hot dogs, Gale?” she asks, making a show of adding one very hot sausage to the bun. “I’m getting two for you and one for me. Mine’s gonna have a whole lot of mustard and some red onions. And you look like the kinda man who knows exactly what to put on his.”

She’s not sure if it’s her wink or the promise of food that’s got him stepping out of Miss Audrey’s shadow. “D’you have ketchup, Miss Sally?” he wonders, blue eyes going wide as she nods in reply. “A-And… uh… I want cheese on one of them.”

“So that’s one ketchup dog and one ketchup-and-cheese dog?” she checks, showing him exactly what she’s doing to make his food. “Yeah?” She laughs as his nod turns rather vigorous. “All right, Mister Gale, I’m gonna add the ketchup now and I’m gonna need you to tell me stop, okay?”

“Okay!”

“I’ll leave you both to it, Sal,” says Miss Audrey, patting a few crisp dollars into Sally’s apron’s pocket that Sally already knows better than to protest against. Her multi-ringed hand ruffles Gale’s hair as his first stop! rings out. “Enjoy your late lunch, and be good to Miss Sally.”

“Yes ma’am,” nods Gale, fingers already carefully rearranging his hair and smoothing its back while he leans over to see the ketchup progress on the second hot dog. “Stop! More cheese than ketchup, please,” he directs, sounding very sure of himself indeed. “They’re better with cheese.”

“D’you want cheese on both? You can, you know, it’s no trouble. Look,” she says, slightly overdoing it on the mustard for hers, “you can get as much as you want on these. Not a lot o’ people have been wanting cheese today, so you’re extra lucky!”

“Only if it’s no trouble…”

“None,” she smiles, putting more cheese than ketchup on both of his. “Now, c’mere, grab yourself a plate,” she directs, “and – oh, thank you!” She blinks in surprise as he holds another plate out to her. “That’s gonna make these onions a little easier to eat. They would’ve spilled all over my apron like yesterday otherwise!”

His you’re welcome, miss is rather soft-voiced. Almost shy, really, in comparison to some of the more loudly demanding nine-year-olds she’s seen out and about at the track. He’s got that look about him of someone who’s going to grow tall – all limbs and careful posture – even though he just sat down and made himself small as can be.

Sally brushes her apron and skirt down. Settles on the grass just outside her hot dog stand, next to her small pile of books and notes. Folds herself around her plate the same way Gale does – arm around it to shield it from view, hunched over the food just to be sure nobody takes it – and tucks into her own food with no small degree of relish.

“Oh, that’s the ticket,” she sighs, having only had a single coffee and an orange early this morning before she was almost late for her bus. She smiles as she peers up at the kid, who’s practically wolfing his food down. “You like ’em, Gale?”

His nod is accompanied by him licking his fingers clean and wiping them on his trousers. Sally finds she’s learning fast the longer she studies him. He’s somebody’s kid all right, because his clothes got patched up and he’s got manners some of the orphan kids don’t. Nobody objects to him spending time with Miss Audrey’s girls, even though Miss Audrey’s girls are scantily clad loudmouths who rake in more cash in two hours than Sally does in a week’s work.

“Does your daddy know how to find you?” she asks, deducing several things just from watching him polish his plate clean. “Is he expectin’ you at Miss Audrey’s?”

There it is. The small freeze. That little line to his shoulders that goes rigid and defensive all at once. “I know where to find him,” says Gale, biting the words out like the very syllables have their hackles raised at her. “It’s not time yet.”

“All right,” she agrees, setting her plate aside and leaning back a little. “You tell me when it’s time now. There’s a big clock out on th–”

“The pavilion.” His hands are a flurry of motion, dragging a chewed-on pencil and rather battered little notepad out of his shirt pocket. He doesn’t look at her. Flips the notepad open and sets his pencil to paper instead. “I been here before, you know.”

Sally almost winces at his tone. “All right, Buckaroo,” she sighs, propping her own book up on her knees, perfectly aware that she’s conceding defeat to a rather headstrong nine-year-old. She smiles as she catches his tiny grimace at the nickname. Gotcha, kid. “I’m here almost every day in summer. So are the hot dogs.”

She’s not surprised when he stays silent. Kids like him often do when something starts to sound too much like an invitation or expectation. It’s what she would’ve done, too, back in the time her mother was dreaming about winning big money instead of buying something to put on the dinner table.

Nine-year-old Sally would’ve killed for a hot dog.

“And your homework.”

Sally blinks away her furious stare at the differences between fibula and tibia. “Sorry,” she says, attempting to smile, “what was that?”

Gale’s half-moon smile flickers up at her. “Your homework, Miss. That’s here too.”

“So’s yours, by the look of that,” she nods, indicating his notes.

“It’s just some stuff.”

“Some stuff, huh? Me, I’m learning about bones.” Sally raises her book to show him, seeing how his arm has already come up to curl around his notepad to shield it from view. “See? I need to learn how to help fix them when they’re broken. So I need to learn what they look like when they’re normal, first.”

Gale peers at the pages more closely than she’d have imagined him to do. “That’s Latin.”

“A little! The bone names are like that,” she agrees, nodding, “and I think it makes them sound as important as they are. D’you know Latin?”

He shrugs. “Only if it’s got to do with calculating things. Like ad infinitum means that the operation is to be carried out endlessly.” His nose wrinkles a little at his explanation. “Infinity’s still really tricky, though, so I’m trying to work on limits rather than infinitesmals right now. I think infinity’s one of those things I’ll know once I’m as old as you.”

“Yeah?” Sally grins at him over the top of her book. “Are you going to be a scientist, then, Buckaroo?”

“No, I’m going to be a pilot! And they have to do loads of math!” He doesn’t grimace at the nickname this time. Scoots closer until he’s seated beside her, even, just so he can show her a sliver of his notepad that’s filled up with numbers and crude little graphs. “I’m practicin’ heaps of it.”

“Getting a good start!”

Gale nods vigorously. “I’m gonna be the bestest pilot ever, Miss Sally.”

“Yes, you are,” she agrees as his knee knocks against hers. “I’m gonna be a good nurse, too. It’s all in the work.”

“You’re gonna be the bestest.”

“Not if I don’t know the difference between a fibula and a tibia,” she snorts, tapping the page. “Just like you won’t be a pilot unless you know fancy things like trajectories and calculus. But we’re gonna learn all of that just fine out here.”

And may the good Lord please stop your daddy from clipping your wings before you got a chance to fly.

[dandelion-wings]

Re-reading current WIPs leads to re-reading old stuff no longer in progress, which lead me today to the old stuff from @theabysscomeshome and I's Harbinger AU. And it occurred to me that, while I doubt I'm ever fixing up or finishing the outdated stuff enough to ever put this on AO3 at this point, I could go ahead and post the one complete piece from it that's not completely jossed, and that I still like, here. >>

For reference, the Harbinger AU is essentially a Venti-Tsarita roleswap (with a side of Jean-Childe roleswap but that doesn't show up at all in here), wherein the Knights of Favonius essentially fill the Fatui's role.

---

The great tower in front of them is in disrepair, shattered and half-broken, but the cubical mechanism for opening the door still works once the hilichurls out front have been cleared away. As the great door grinds open, tilted sideways at an awkward angle, a cheerful voice rings out from behind them both.

"Oh, it's Sir Diluc!"

Diluc spins around, his hand dropping to the hilt of his claymore. Lumine, noting his narrowed eyes and tight jaw, follows suit. In front of them both is a young woman, or older girl, in a leather traveling outfit with bright red accents that stand out against the swirling snow--including a headband that looks like nothing so much as a pair of rabbit ears. She pulls up the goggles that had been over her eyes and grins at them.

"Hello! I haven't met you before. Who are you?"

"Outrider," Diluc says, his tone guarded, though he doesn't yet draw his claymore. "You're a long way from Mondstadt."

"So are you! It's so nice to meet you here. I haven't seen you in ages." The girl skips forward as if she hasn't noticed Diluc's tension or the hand tightening further around his claymore's hilt. "Sir Kaeya and Master Jean will be so glad to know you're all right!"

"*Don't*," Diluc growls.

Those names Lumine recognizes. "Diluc, who is this?"

"Outrider Amber of the Knights of Favonius. Which makes her very far from her operational area."

"Oh, that's expanded a little bit since you left, Sir Diluc." She veers away from him to bound smiling over to Lumine. "I still haven't gotten your name."

"My name is Lumine," she says, fighting the urge to reach for the hand that Amber holds out to her. The girl's cheerful friendliness is at sharp odds with how tensely Diluc watches her. Also, if she's more recently from Mondstadt... Lumine has to ask. "Have you met a boy who looks like me on your travels from Mondstadt? I'm looking for my brother."

Amber looks her up and down, then shakes her head, an apologetic look on her face. "No, I'm sorry, I haven't. But I can put up some posters for you once I get back! Uh... if you can tell me a place to contact you...."

"Don't bother," Diluc says.

"I don't have any way for you to contact me, since I'm on the road. But I appreciate the offer." Lumine looks over at Diluc, trying to judge if it's *really* necessary to keep her hand on her sword. "I thought the Knights of Favonius were dangerous? But Amber's willing to put up posters, even if there's no point."

"It's not her I'm worried about. It's who might come behind her. Is that Lawrence woman in Snezhnaya too?"

"Don't call her that! At least call her Sir Eula!" Amber stamps a foot and glares at him. "And I can't tell you her movements, but she's not with me. I'm here because Sir Kaeya's too much of a layabout to do his own intelligence missions."

"Hey, should you be telling us that?" Paimon asks. She's drifted forward over Lumine's shoulder, her curiosity drawing her in.

"You're with Sir Diluc, so it's fine. He's a little grumpy, but he's not a bad guy."

Diluc sighs and straightens up, finally releasing his claymore. "She wouldn't tell us if she thought we could interfere with it. Which means she won't tell us the details, either."

"Nope!" Amber beams at him. "I'm so lucky I saw you guys in the snow. Your hair really stands out, Sir Diluc, and you always wear that black coat, so I thought it must be you. Even though it's not part of the mission, Sir Kaeya will be glad to know you're still going strong. And that you made a friend."

"Hmmph." Diluc crosses his arms over his chest. "And I'm sure it will help him track my movements."

"Duh! He worries about you, you know." She looks past them at the open door to the tower, then turns to Lumine. "If you're going in there, do you want some help? I have the time, and I wouldn't mind getting out of the cold for a while. Snezhnaya is *freezing*. Besides, I can tell Sir Diluc all about how Master Jean and Sir Kaeya are doing."

Lumine glances over at Sir Diluc. He looks a little annoyed, but not alarmed, and he doesn't try to refuse for her. This is her mission, given by the Tsaritsa, even if he's been helping her on it. And she would like to learn a little more about these Knights of Favonius from someone who doesn't have so obvious a grudge. It seems somehow appropriate to do so in pursuit of an Anemoculus.

"All right," Lumine says. "You can help."

As Lumine turns back towards the gaping black shadow of the doorway, she hears Amber cheer behind her. "Awesome! I can't wait to show you Baron Bunny."

***

Baron Bunny is a giant plush, it turns out. It explodes, which is a bit unexpected, but after the brief surprise of it in the first fight Lumine quickly gets used to it. Amber isn't nearly as strong a fighter as Diluc, though she also has a Pyro Vision, but just the presence of her flaring heat in battle seems to make the Melt effect that Lumine has gotten used to setting up with Diluc more effective. Overall, she's a much better party member than Diluc's reaction had led Lumine to expect.

A quarter of the way up the tower, they run into what seems to be a dead end. Lumine stands at the bottom of a cavernous space, made more so by the lingering edges of floors and walls that have crumbled away above. Even if she stands on the highest of the broken pillars, the next partially-intact floor is dozens of feet over her head. There's a lift mechanism in the corner, but it lies dormant and still.

"Those torches," Diluc says, holding his flaming claymore high to light the space. "That sort are usually connected to the mechanisms in these ruins. If I can reach them, I can light them and see what they'll do. It's getting there that's the problem."

Lumine looks around and sees what he means. The tilting and crumbling of the tower have put most of them in nearly-unaccessible spots. That one he might be able to reach by jumping off this pillar if she jumps far enough, and if he can squeeze through that rubble there one is half-buried behind it... but the ones higher on the walls will be harder to reach. Her Cryo constructs melt so quickly under Diluc's feet. The two that, due to the tilt of the tower, are practically on the ceiling? She has no idea about those.

"Oh, is that all? Leave it to me," Amber chirps from the base of the pillar. Lumine crouches down and watches her unsling her bow. She takes careful aim at each of the torches, the ends of her arrows bursting into flame, and lights each of them with one shot, even the half-buried one that Lumine wouldn't have thought she could reach.

"Thank you," Lumine says, smiling at her, as the lift jerks to life and begins to slowly grind its way up the wall. "We couldn't have done that without you."

"Glad to help." Amber assures her, dashing up the slant of the wall towards the lift. "Last one up is a rotten egg!"

Lumine jumps off the pillar to hit the wall right behind her. As she scrambles up onto the lift she sees Diluc uncross his arms, brace himself, and leap to follow.

***

They make it most of the rest of the way up before they reach another such space, this one with great crumbled gaps in the outer walls as well. No lift or torches are apparent this time. The cold winds from outside the tower rip through the sides of the tower, leaving piled-up drifts of snow behind. Lumine, Diluc, and Amber crouch in the lowest corner, Paimon floating low and using Lumine as a windbreak.

"Those are blowing harder than I'd have thought from looking outside," Diluc says. "There must be Anemo energy leaking down from above."

"I bet we could get up there using those winds," Amber says, eyeing the roaring flurries overhead in speculation.

"With the winds?" Lumine asks.

"Yeah, using our wind gliders!" Amber reaches back and pats the narrow wood-and-metal box on her back that Lumine had thought was some kind of travel case. "Sir Diluc, haven't you shown Lumine how to glide yet?"

"We haven't been in a large enough town to find one for sale. Or to get mine repaired," he says expressionlessly.

"What, your wind glider is broken? Let me take a look at it," Amber begs, reaching out towards him like she wants to grab for something. "I bet I can fix it. And I have a spare with me I could lend to Lumine, so we can show her how to glide! You know there won't be a better way up."

Diluc stares at her for a moment more, calculating, then reaches into his travel pack and pulls out another such case and holds it out. Amber snatches it from him with a squeal of excitement. "The left wing won't extend fully," he tells her as she flips it over and starts undoing catches on the back.

"Oh, that's because your pivot gears are bent. This will take me a few minutes, so maybe we should sit down and rest while I fix it? I haven't eaten in ages."

"A lunch break sounds like a *great* idea!" Paimon seconds enthusiastically. "Lumine, do you have more of that cabbage-potato borscht?"

"No, I'm all out," Lumine says regretfully to Paimon. Her stomach rumbles at the memory of the delicious soup. "Diluc, what about you?"

"I have potatoes."

"Nothing else?"

"Potatoes are a complete meal on their own."

"Not without butter and cream," Amber protests, looking up from the articulating wing made of metal joins and wooden feathers that she's stretched out over her knees. "I did some hunting earlier, and I still have plenty of meat, plus some cheese. You could make a pile-'em-up! You were always really good at that one."

"Oh!" Paimon comes zooming up to hover level with Diluc's face, bobbing in the air in front of him. "Juicy meat and melty cheese and potatoes! That sounds perfect to Paimon!"

Diluc bats irritably at Paimon until she drifts further away. "It won't be the same without lamp grass for seasoning."

"True," Amber says. "I guess I could make my signature Outrider's champion steak when I'm done fixing your wind glider."

"...I'll make a pile-'em-up without the lamp grass."

***

The Hydro Abyss Mage, shell frozen by Lumine's Cryo and melted into nothingness by Diluc's phoenix and Amber's arrows, tumbles squealing to the floor. Diluc lunges forward and drops down on top of it, pinning it beneath his knees, one hand on its shoulder, the other holding his claymore across its throat.

"The key to the pillar," he snaps at it. "How do we get it open?"

"Like I'm going to tell you," the Abyss Mage chitters, its voice high and cracking and full of vicious glee. "You'll never get through- aaah! That hurts!"

Diluc lets the flame die. "Tell us, or it's going to hurt a lot more."

"Favonians who can't even figure out the order of the elemental monuments on your own- aaah! Ow! Okay! The first, third and fifth have to be lit at the same time, while the other two are left alone, or they all go out! Aaaaah, I'm not lying!"

With a jerk of his claymore, Diluc slices through the Abyss Mage's neck, and it dissolves into powdery black smoke. Then he rises and turns to study the elemental monuments arranged around the pillar in which the Anemoculus is said to be encased. The way they're set, she can tell his phoenix can't hit all three at once without lighting the two in between.

"You could get those two," Lumine suggests, pointing to the two on the end. The curving way the monuments have been arranged in front of the pillar means that there's a straight line between them that wouldn't touch the others. "And Amber can shoot the third at the same time."

"Sounds like a plan to me!" Amber pulls an arrow from her bow and sets it to the string, looking at Lumine with a smile. "Just give me a signal."

"Fine," Diluc says shortly, and walks to where he needs to stand to line up the phoenix. He, too, looks at Lumine for a signal.

Lumine takes a couple of steps back, just in case, and raises a hand. "Fire!" she calls, snapping it down.

Amber's arrow flies and flashes, the phoenix blazes forward, and the three monuments light up, Pyro sigils shining above them as veins of elemental energy run glowing down them like lava down a volcano's side. There's a click from the pillar, then a grinding of stone, and a portion of the front slides away. The Anemoculus--a blue-green orb framed with irregular, feathery wing-like protrusions, with a more stylized wing-like symbol shining from within the orb--rotates slowly within. She can feel the Anemo energy radiating off of it, generating a cool breeze that flows through the room.

Slowly, entranced by the beauty of the elemental object, Lumine starts forward. She reaches a hand out towards it as she passes the monument that Amber had lit.

But Amber is faster. She dashes forward and thrusts her hand into the pillar, snatching the Anemoculus from its prison. As she turns about, Lumine unthinkingly reaches towards her, expecting to be handed it. Amber just pulls her goggles down and bounces backwards, using the tilt of the floor to speed her movement.

"Sorry, Lumine. I wish I didn't have to do this, you seem really nice. But Sir Kaeya says Master Jean needs these, and even if he's too lazy to get them himself, I can't let you have one. I really hope I didn't mess things up for you too much. Good luck finding your brother! Sir Diluc, I'll tell everyone you said hi!"

As Diluc lunges for her, face twisted in fury, hands outstretched, she flings herself through the arching, open window behind her and into the freezing winds below. Amber twists about in the air, clutching the Anemoculus to her chest with one hand and pulling the string on her wind glider with the other. Wings snap out behind her and she catches the wind, soaring away and down with expert speed.

"After her!" Lumine shouts at Diluc, charging towards the same window, reaching for the release of the glider Amber had told her to keep as she goes. She can hear his feet on the floor behind her. Paimon, wailing in alarm, grabs Lumine's arm and clutches on tight as they launch.

The winds battering at her out here are entirely different from those they'd flown on in the tower. While they aren't as strong, they also aren't nearly as directed. With only her minimal experience, Lumine can't manage to steer herself after Amber, who is dwindling into a spiraling red-brown dot in the distance. Diluc has more experience with wind gliders, but he seems to be having just as much trouble--no, more, one wing, the supposedly fixed wing, stiff and unmoving even when the other one flexes. He's caught by a particularly strong buffet and tumbles as something in the unmoving wing, unable to flex, instead snaps.

With Amber already out of reach, Lumine turns and dives as best she can after Diluc instead. He doesn't fall at deadly speed, but it's still a good clip, and he hits the ground below with a crash sufficient to throw up snow in a blinding cloud all around. Lumine wipes it from her eyes as she lands, then wades through the waist-deep drifts until she finds Diluc fumbling out of them, snow turning to water wherever he's touched and then freezing right back into ice.

All around them, the wind is still swirling, carrying even more snow than before. Lumine looks up at the slate-grey sky that's all she's ever seen in Snezhnaya, searching for a darker blotch. "I think a blizzard may be coming on...."

"It's no blizzard." Finally making it to his feet and dusting off the worst of his snow from his clothes and hair, Diluc reaches again for his claymore as he peers out into the blinding flurries all around. This time he draws it, holding it in front of him, a thin line of flame dancing along the blade. "It's worse."

"What's worse?" Paimon asks, slowly letting go of Lumine's arm and floating up to peer over her shoulder.

Out of the white wall of snow, a figure appears, striding confidently towards them. A tall woman, clad in black and white with a blue cape swirling behind. Lumine is shivering in this even deeper chill, but she seems entirely untroubled. She's carrying a claymore that looks like it's been carved out of ice, held high and ready to swing, the flat resting on her shoulder.

"Diluc Ragnvindr," she says, staring haughtily at Diluc. Somehow the tilt of her chin makes it seem like she's looking down at him, even though he's the same height or taller. "How annoying."

"Sir Eula?" Lumine guesses, glancing at Diluc and then back at her.

"Yes. Sir Eula Lawrence, Captain of the Reconnaissance Company, and Fourth Harbinger of the Knights of Favonius, to be precise." She turns that disdainful look on Lumine. "Amber tells me you're... *nice*... so I will not take vengeance on this traitor here and now, in circumstances where you may get in the way. But if you threaten Amber or our mission, I will not hesitate to turn my blade upon you."

Lumine tenses, reaching for her sword, but Diluc reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. It's warm on Lumine's bare skin even through his still-wet glove. "This isn't the place to fight her," he says, low-voiced, frustration audible through his gritted teeth. "Report back to the Tsaritsa, and we'll work out our plan from there."

"Wise of you," Eula says. She stands there, claymore on her shoulder, not moving an inch, as she watches them walk away.

[chemical-ghoul]

emily armstrong scientology thingo

That freak who wants Emily dead and thinks she’s married to Chester has me blocked so I can post whatever I want now thank the fucking lord 🙏

I've done tons of research on this topic and like… there is so much proof against Emily being in Scientology, people refuse to inform themselves outside of random articles or listen to people of the likes of Jamie Bennington, who is known for making up obvious vile lies about the band & who's own mother has a restraining order against him due to his crazy claims and stalkerish behaviour. Obviously we won't know anything until and unless Emily says something but I'm absolutely willing to bet she's either on her way out or has been out for a while.

If there’s anything wrong here please do feel free to correct me, I love learning about this topic.

For the things that still may qualify her being in the cult, other than her ~2013 & prior involvement from the gala (that brought awareness to this issue in the first place) the only CURRENT thing I can think of is probably her relationship with her mother--it doesn't necessarily mean she's in or out, but her mother is a higher up in the cult and therefore would probably want to provent her daughter leaving. Emily has discussed speaking to her mother as recently as September.

As much as I wish she wouldn’t, I understand why she would still want to connect with her mother even if she isn’t in the cult anymore. And she can absolutely do that, but if she wants to speak out about it it’d mean leaving her mother behind and becoming a suppressive person, which I doubt she would want to do. From what I can gather, she’s most likely left silently.

The only real proof of her ever being properly active in the cult at the time of me writing this, are from photos and other peoples retellings of her as a child (some of which explain just how uninterested she was IN actually being a scientologist), one completed task on her profile from 2007 & the latest being in 2013, when she went to a Scientology celebrity gala (probably the wrong name but i'm mind blanking) and there's been basically nothing since.

For the things against her being in the cult: For starters she has never promoted the cult. She's mentioned having a therapist in recent interviews and discusses mental health & anti religion SO much in her music. I don't think someone whose ideologies still line up with Scientology would have been as anti religion and pro mental health help as she is and has been. I believe a while after 2013, maybe roughly when 'Pleasure to Meet You' (Dead Sara’s 2nd full album) released?, is when her lyrics began getting more close to lyrics that a scientologist probably wouldn't write. Alongside this, since 2017, a few years after PTMY came out, fans have noticed changes in her attitude that make her seem a lot happier and less tired. I think this change is worth a mention, as the record that came out after 2017, Temporary Things Taking Up Space, is so lyrically against all of Scientology’s values it’s shocking a so called hardcore scientologist could even think to sing these songs.

Colin, Linkin Park’s drummer, has denied himself having any connections with the cult in a vague instagram comment, which isn't much but I do think if they want to stay quiet small instagram comments poking fun at people accusing them is a fine way to go about confirming anything. Mike spoke out about Scientology a year after he met her--which in most cases and discussions i've seen, would have a scientologist cut ties entirely with a person. She has associated with many people who have left the cult and spoken out about them, Mike being the most obvious example but Beck is a good one too. He left the cult many years ago and only spoke out about it years later due to fear of retaliation from the church. She’s also friends with Brian Bowen Smith who to my knowledge photographed Leah Remini for her book about Scientology.

Her being a lesbian also helps my case, but not by much because if anything it really depends on if she came out before she was in Dead Sara or not. They tend to allow famous people to be lgbtq without issue by the looks of things, but we aren't sure when she came out. Speaking of DS, they have performed at lots of events raising money and awareness for mental health including the charity Talinda Bennington (Chester's wife) set up after Chester passed away. Not really relevant but worth a mention, they’re also good friends with the band Badflower, who have songs that are very openly about mental health and abuse. I don’t see a scientologist being friends with someone like Josh Katz who can write and sing those words.

The people accusing her of being a hardcore scientologist (Cedric and his wife Chrissie? could be wrong about her name—also those shitty scientology youtubers who keep making videos on this subject that should really be dropped by now LMAO) are still yet to really show any proof she's still in other than claims which I don't think should be taken as 100% fact—none of this paragraph stuff should either but I think someone who’s been a LP fan for years and has always been very openly anti scientology may have a good outlook on the situation so this is my two cents.

[gloomiezzz]

WIP of one of my new characters hehe, I've always thought about making a jester oc but nothing ever spoke out to me when I saw different types that people have created. But everyone has made Mount Rageons with different features like tails, multiple arms, a various amount of eyes, different shapes and sizes. It inspired me to give this one four arms and two heads, I don't know what the name will be so if any of you have name recommendations let me know hehe, I'm never good with names. I loved designing this and I plan to use it eventually with my current ocs and characters I draw within a story I'm slowly writing out on my Instagram katziezz

The full sketch is on my Instagram as well and a majority of my posts, I'll be doing Q/A stuff or whatever at some point when I reach a certain amount of followers on there hehe I hope this reaches the right people

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/katziezz?igsh=aTFlM3hlYWt5NGw5

[5hark-byt3]

Stupid idiots I hope you three EXPLODE!!!!

Also a bit of yapping under the cut you can skip allat if you want

OKOK BRO I JUST HAD THE CRAZIEST WEEK NY POWER WAS OUT FOT SO LONG💀💀

Anywho, I hit 50 followers recently, I mentioned it in that one tag but I wanted to actually say smth in a post…(idk how to celebrate but uh YIPPEEEEEEEEE)

Ok one more thing, I saw that one image of all the idols together and I just wanna know

Whyyyy does earl look like a bug he looks like that one meme where it goes “Bugs when you lift up a rock” why does she look like that bro/aff

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

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[aliusfrater]

everything ************* posts pisses me off istg