#what do you mean i am visibly damaged but you love it all the same

[hatsukeii]

ohhh scar kissing you will forever be famous

[tiny-maus-boots]

Darkest of Nights pt 23

A/N: Hi yes I'm still here. Despite a hospital stay, a month without running water, a promotion, training deadlines and now a septic system failure. I'm so sorry it's been so long between updates but...life, am i right? oof.

As always thank you to @chloes-yellow-cup for still doing the thing for me and supporting me. And thank you to @kimmania for always looking for ways to give me time to breathe...and create. And thank you readers! You are so patient and i'm grateful for your support. Happy Monday! Aubrey

“That is impossible! I will have no part of this sham attempt to gain our consent to drain us dry for her own gain!”

Aubrey could feel Beca sigh heavily beside her. It was so very human and yet she could relate to the weariness in it. This conversation was as tedious as watching a corpse rot and her fingers twitched with the effort to keep from reaching out to throttle someone. 

Chloe seemed to sense her growing impatience and took a step forward to allow Beca to take a step back out of the line of fire. It was an effortless transition like a graceful dance move and Aubrey felt herself smile fondly at it.

“Okay, while I understand your fear, let's not forget that Beca has already done this once before with Aubrey. She healed her from sun damage.”

“That is not the same thing! Athan was cursed by someone long dead.” The vampire speaking turned to face Beca directly, accusation and mistrust plainly written across their features. “Do not promise that which you can not deliver, Necromancer. Athan means nothing to you, his pain and suffering are not whims for you to play at power with.”

“Lady, I can’t tell you how little I’m playing here.”

Beca was bored and Aubrey couldn’t blame her. But her tone caused the vampire to snarl and step forward aggressively. It was all for show, she knew, but despite her best efforts to contain her ire, Aubrey could feel the angles of her face sharpening as her monstrous visage threatened to reveal her true feelings. Vampires had a long history of showing disrespect to people she loved and she was unwilling to accept it any longer. 

“Enough of this. There will never be words of assurance to ease our fears, nor can there be. What you intend will drain us. You say not fully but that is the word of a curarva dii moartit, and the that is worth less than dog shit.” 

There was no sharp intake of breath, silence simply dropped over them like a suffocating cloak. No one dared to move for fear of drawing Aubrey’s attention to them. 

She strode forward a few steps and scanned the small group of dissenters. More than she had expected had agreed to allow Beca to attempt to help Athan, all that had gathered here were the few holdouts too afraid or too prejudiced to accept help when they most desperately needed it.

A few of them flinched back at her proximity but many were bold enough to meet her gaze. Too many of them. They had forgotten who she was and that they should be afraid of her. Aubrey’s voice breathed out in a tightly controlled whisper, the coldness of it enough to make the large room that much more frigid.

“What did you call her?”

Beca herself was only aware of the swift change in their behavior but she had no real understanding of the insult thrown at her. She reached out to the blonde but Aubrey was in no mood to be restrained this time. Nor would they respect her rule if she did not enforce it in the only way they could currently understand. There would be a time for a gentle hand in their leadership but now was not that time. She shook off Beca's light grip and pinned the vampire that has spoken with a deliberate stare.

The woman visibly fought the urge to lower her head in the face of Aubrey’s pitiless gaze and raised her chin a hair higher as a show of rebellion. Her face was unfamiliar to the blonde and she realized that nearly all the vampires in the room were strangers.  She didn't know any of their names or lineage.

“I called her what she is. Death Whore and you are nothing more than her puppet. You’ve been corrupted, you and Chloe both. You’re already under her control and see it not!”

Rage suffused their connection, in part from Chloe she knew but the fire within was primarily hers. Her face shifted with a painfully slow transition. And painful it was each and every time her horns pierced through her flesh. She let the woman see exactly what she was, let the knowledge and horror of it sink in before she shot a clawed hand out to clamp around her throat. It was no effort to fling her like a ragdoll across the room. None at all.

She was strong, she knew, but never had she been quite that fast or quite that powerful. Aubrey didn’t hesitate to press the advantage and leapt on the woman’s prone form before anyone had a chance to intervene. Not that any of the vampires would while she rained down fist after fist and claw after raking claw on the woman without pause. She didn’t stop until Beca’s frantic plea broke through the crunch of bone pulverizing under her blows and the spatter of cold blood hitting her face.

“Whoa whoa whoa…Bree please!”  

Aubrey stopped and turned her head to look directly at Beca.

”I will not allow disrespect, Beca. You wish to begin a new way but now you see why the old ways stand. Respect is earned with fear among vampires. This one held no fear, and thus no respect.” 

Beca hesitated as she sifted through what she knew of vampires and their politics and Aubrey appreciated that she hadn’t outright undermined her. She knew what it must look like to a human. How monstrous she must appear. Aubrey held Beca's gaze and let her see it all in it's horrifying, horned, blood splattered glory.

“Well it’s not like I love being called a whore, but is anyone going to really respect you going all grrr breaking her face for the sake of a necromancer?”

”No but they will fear me enough to respect you.” 

“I see.”

Aubrey tried to read the play of emotions across the smaller woman’s face. Beca sighed and shook her head sadly as she realized that Aubrey had needed to make a point. She brought herself closer to the pair and looked down at Aubrey. The necromancer reached out and gently caressed her cheek. The soothing coolness of Beca’s magic washed over her and her demon face melted away. 

“I think I get it. You’ve got no choice but to be hard sometimes to make a point. I get that and it’s okay, as long as you’re willing to be soft to make a point too.” 

Beca didn’t have to ask her out loud. She knew what was wanted of her. Aubrey looked down at the badly beaten vampire under her then back to Beca and nodded. The small woman smiled at her and leaned in for a soft kiss. Aubrey gave into it and the draw of power that was pulled from her with it. 

Beca leaned away only far enough to touch foreheads. “Thank you.”

Aubrey nudged Beca’s nose with her own and moved back so the necromancer could lean over the brutalized vampire. A wealth of compassion blossomed in her dark blue eyes despite the way she had been treated. It did not go unnoticed by those assembled.

”For what it’s worth I’m sorry. Not that Aubrey kicked the shit out of you. I think you know you kinda deserved that, but I’m sorry it’s come to this between us. Too many years of violence and mistrust to get past with mere words.”

The necromancer reached down and caressed the woman’s face with as gentle a hand as she had used on Aubrey. And despite her grave injuries the woman still feebly attempted to scoot away.

Beca shook her head sadly and pressed a hand gently to the vampire’s chest. She and Chloe inhaled deeply as Beca pushed their combined energies into a broken vessel. It filled the other vampire and reformed the broken flesh and bones of her face in a slow roll of muscle and skin smoothing over the sharp planes of her skeletal structure. 

“And this beating you got? Understand that it was Aubrey showing restraint. You could be so much deader by now if she didn’t care to give you a chance to make up for being a dickbag.”

Beca gazed over at Aubrey and an understanding passed between them. Yes. It could have been so much worse. She could have ended the woman and all others would have fallen in line after. But a beating even without Beca’s help would have healed eventually. However humiliated she would have been, she would still be alive to bear it.

The vampire gasped in a breath when Beca eased her power back and stepped away. She turned to the others standing around watching and raised her hands palms up before letting them drop. 

“Think about it. If you agree to help tell Chloe’s folks. But think fast, we’ve got other shit to do before the Great Clans get here. Or the Blood Guard.”

Beca turned on a heel and Aubrey and Chloe followed her out of the great hall. Aubrey could feel the smile stretch wide across her face. Their mate stopped just outside the door and looked back at the group of vampires. 

“If neither of us are willing to change, what the hell are we even doing here? If this is what it takes to earn respect are we any better the stupid Council?”

Beca shook her head in exasperation one last time and Aubrey held out her hand. The necromancer took it and kissed her knuckles as they padded toward their quarters. 

“Thank you. I know you probably could have ripped her head off and played basketball with it.”

Aubrey raised a shoulder in a shrug. She wasn't entirely sure what basketball was but she felt certain she could have easily torn the woman’s head from her body with no more effort than tearing parchment.

“She is frightened and angry  and more the fool for it. But being foolish alone should not be cause for death when a lesson will do. They will not disrespect you or Chloe ever again.”

Beca smiled at her and gave a half nod. 

“My hero. Of course there's nothing saying any of that made a difference. That lady vamp for sure hates me.”

Chloe chuckled and slid her hand into Beca’s free one. Her sweet smile lit her face with an ethereal glow and the necromancer stumbled over her feet for a second. Aubrey could relate, Chloe just had that kind of effect on people.

“You didn't see their faces when you healed Olivia. It made a difference, we just need to give them a minute. And anyway, we should get ready to meet the Great Clans, they'll be here soon and we look…eh.”

Beca looked down at herself then the two vampires at her side. 

“What's wrong with my outfit?”

“Oh baby, that's not an outfit. We can do better.”

“Huh. Got anything in black?”

"Oh Beca, you don't understand what you're getting into..."

Aubrey laughed but stifled it quickly when Chloe cut her bright eyes her way. The redhead raised a brow and eyed Aubrey’s attire critically.

“What are you laughing at, you could use some styling too.”

Aubrey's mouth opened at that and Beca laughed. 

“Chlo…if you wanted to get us naked you just had to ask.”

“Oh good, we should probably go do that now. But we better hurry, no telling who will knock on our door again.”

“Please don't let it be your dad. I don't think either of us are ready to look each other in the eye yet.” 

[anewdawnwithoutfear]

Like a Halo In Reverse

Originally posted: 23 December, 2024

Visibility: Anons

Word Count: 2747

Warnings: manipulation, unspecified previous injury implied/mentioned

The Professor gazes softly at his partner, electing to bask in its adoration a little longer as he ponders how to break the silence. He has questions he wants to get answered and he knows how to pry for those answers, but getting to that point is a little harder, especially when it’s clearly in physical pain, and it had been struggling so much before that.

He briefly considers bringing up a rather strange allegation he had been presented with recently, but his partner softly breaks the silence for him, rendering his careful consideration over what to say unnecessary, “Um…I’m glad…you’re here. Real and here…”

Something about her hesitance set him ill at ease. “I am,” he confirms. Short statements, for now, he thinks. Get it to talk, and maybe he won’t have to ask after too many things.

“I enjoy you, more than anyone.” Xyr smile brightens as xe speaks, however slightly, and the words carry the faintest air of reverence. Of course the Professor is certain xe feels that way, especially after the pains he’s taken to endear himself to xem. Still, he’s always ecstatic to hear confirmation of his worth, especially from such a valued person as his love. 

If he had his way, he’d be able to drink in xyr fondness and their success together. Unfortunately, he has to figure out what happened, and why his love is speaking like this.

“And I, you. Not that anyone has ever come anywhere close to comparing. I’m sure the same applies from you to me, right?” His tone is light, not a hint of uncertainty seeping in.

“Yes.” The response is somehow a rote script and impassioned plea at the same time.

The Professor laughs, keeping the soft, light tone, “You didn’t need to think, hm? I understand, I can’t imagine there being many out there that are all that similar.” The implications go unsaid, and his meaning is received precisely as intended. His partner’s nod helps him convince himself that he is confident that the response they’ll give, verbally, will be the reassurance that he craves.

That confidence is immediately shaken, a fact he adapts to without a thought, when ey tenses ever so slightly. Eir vaguely expressed nerves bring him to soften his expression, offering em some calm.

As he wordlessly offers small comforts, he raises a hand and motions for the medical team to leave them to talk. The team doesn’t think to question why he’d like some privacy with his partner, it’s pretty expected, and none of their business, besides. They do, however, need to answer the question of if they can grant his request. Before any motions to respond are made, they’re glancing over Lasho and her medical charts, scanning for any indication of immediate cause for concern. It doesn’t take long to confirm that nothing stands out, most of the damage is fairly superficial.

With the patient confirmed as medically stable, the team obliges the request. As they file out, the last physician to leave pauses before closing the door, “You have an hour.” It is neither an order nor an attempt at defiance but rather a simple fact. 

“Duly noted.”

And then they are alone, a small comfort to Lasho. “Thank you.”

“You seemed anxious.”

Lasho inhales slowly, “I don’t want to talk about that. I liked your humor better.”

The Professor backs down immediately, he can come back to that later. As unsurprised as he is that his ruse isn’t noticed, he feels pride when they refer to his statement made seeking reassurance as an attempt at humor. “I understand. Can you elaborate, now?”

“I don’t–”

“Angel, I’m just requesting that you state facts. You can do that, right?”

“Of course,” they nod eagerly, “No one I have ever met can do what you can. No one has ever so closely matched what I need. Any liars on those fronts fell apart so fast. I’ll never forget again, I’ll notice faster, I’ll–”

At first, he finds its words a much longed for salve. Then, it begins another word after his praises, and he realizes it’s not stopping there. He tries to let it continue to gain understanding and better himself. He doesn’t last very long before he can’t stand the implications, gently cutting it off. “May I hold you?”

She drops everything at the suggestion, immediately throwing her body against his chest, clinging to his back and trying to bury herself in him. If not for the pain, she’d be clinging tighter, but she can’t.

The Professor cautiously rests his hand on thons head, dreading to think he might accidentally aggravate any injuries. When thon doesn’t react in pain, he slowly rubs thons head, hoping it soothes thon as usual. “Oh my sweet angel. When all’s said and done, you’ll never need that fear again.”

Angel. He loves that word and all it implies. His followers are angels, righteous and good. It takes on a different meaning with his angel. His highest praise and deepest care and gratitude. He can think of no better way to communicate his love for his partner. Lasho knows this and wants to feel his love more than anything. To be loved by him is her greatest joy. Somehow, though, her desires never have been quite enough make the word sit right, so slightly off, a fact she’d chosen to ignore thinking it a minor detail to be overlooked.

As stressed as hu has been, it’s harder to stomach even the smallest discomfort than it used to be. It’s harder than hu wants it to be. Maybe, hu thinks, it’s okay to want just one thing, maybe that’s allowed. Of course, that involves speaking up, and hu isn’t sure how, it’s not something it’s ever done, after all.

All of these thoughts occur in a matter of seconds, despite feeling much longer, and it realizes, with some hesitation, that it simply doesn’t like his term of endearment for it. It could tolerate it indefinitely, but it’s uncomfortable. It determines to try out asking for something unbidden. It’d be a good practice run, since he’s its partner and loves it dearly. He’s a source of safety, and the request is minor enough to not feel too awful to voice. With some effort, it manage to push its concerns about being too much aside, just long enough.

“Um…Professor?” Kai pulls away from him reluctantly in order to look him in the eyes when kai asks. In the very back of kais mind, kai finds kaimself disgusted that kais voice sounds so much like Emery’s did in that moment. This disgust is quickly shelved, that can be looked at later, now is the time to discuss the present, not a dead person.

“Hm?” He’s very curious what kai wants to say to him. Nothing he’d noticed gives him any indication of what it could be at all.

She takes a few deep breaths to steel herself, statement locked and loaded, she just needs to start. The moment she opens her mouth to say she would prefer to be called something else, a wave of overwhelming emotion her ordeal had unearthed comes crashing into her.

A laundry list of minor, insignificant slights begins racing through thons mind faster than thons well-worn excuses can respond. Every nasty remark from his followers thon accidentally overheard, every minor inconvenience brought on by their apparent incompetence, every dirty look, every time he misjudged what thon wanted, every minorly embarrassing thing he said without thinking, the constant lofty promises thon has to wait for indefinitely, the promises that he doesn’t realize he can’t keep, the blows thon takes for him, his willingness to occasionally use thon as a cudgel against his detractors despite how much thon hates being weaponized, and his complete obliviousness to most of it. Thousands of microscopic hurts accrued over years that got instantly buried and left unacknowledged even by thonself.

Lasho tries to stay focused in the present and begins to speak to address his current discomfort, but what comes out isn’t what he wants. His voice is cold and detached and he can’t stop. “I am yours, but I am no more an angel than you are a god, let alone something greater.”

Immediately after they say it, before the words have the chance to fully sink in, they wish they could stuff those words back down their throat, better to choke on them than say this. They can’t, no one can, and they know that, all they can do is wait for a reaction and hope against hope they hadn’t hurt him. Whatever other concerns they’d had mere micro-instants before are erased in the wave of roiling emotions they mask with some effort to pull up the old scripts.

The only reaction xe gets at first is a calm look of placid curiosity that easily hides the Professor’s shock at xyr sudden display of frustration. He had long anticipated his partner would be unable to remain passive indefinitely and that redirecting xyr impulses from a very long previous life would fail xem. He had no real expectations about what that day would look like, but he did think it would not come so soon, so unannounced, and certainly not directed at him.

The initial shock fades, giving way to deep concern mixed with something else he can’t quite place. Whatever that other thing is, he doesn’t examine it right now, he can’t, he needs to focus on responding. Perhaps, had this been a follower, a colleague, an acquaintance, then he might approach this some other way. This is is partner, though, he cares too much about them to be willing to risk untested response. He settles on offering the comfort she needs in the way he knows she receives it, “I never did claim to be, love. Talk to me.” That strange additional emotion begins to intensify, and he recognizes it for what it is: a tinge of mild excitement that he hadn’t expected at all.

“No, you don’t,” it starts, trying to use his plain statement of fact to help it calm back down, wanting, more than anything, to stop its thoughts. “Others call you that and you don’t argue with them, but you don’t say you are. You have said it could be a goal, to take the place of absent gods.” In its head, this is going to work just like it always has, a plain, flat reminder of facts, but when the words come out, they’re laced with venom. It knows better than to allow itself to feel this upset, but it can’t stop the frustration from building.

To his credit, the Professor doesn’t seem to mind. His ego is bruised, he had clearly made some oversights along the way and he can’t figure out where just yet, but he doesn’t focus on that for very long, it’s the time for careful, steady hands. He needs to help them. “I have no desire to take others’ faith from them if it gives them purpose.”

Zie hears him and believes him fully, but hir frustration remains unmoved. Hir mouth gets ahead of hir brain again, zie can’t even think before more words come flying out, “Well, you’re a poor excuse for divinity. What kind of a god allows someone he loves to be treated this way? I will follow you always, but you can’t take god’s place if you’re like…this…” Hir voice breaks as zie speaks and zie’s shaking now. “You’ve improved, recently, but…I’m…scared…and…”

The Professor gives his partner a sympathetic frown, “Of course. Tell me your woes and they will be corrected.”

“No.” Despite the already high tensions on her part, she’s startled by how much force is behind the word. “You keep doing this. You ne–”

They’re cut off by a knock on the door that causes them to jump again.

“They’re quite alright, just a minor scare,” the Professor responds before the question can be asked. He has been keeping track of all of its tells, so he already knew its heart rate would cause concern.

“At least someone can pay attention.” Ey spits before being overcome with shame.

“Lasho, I’m your partner. You should not be hiding from me behind riddles and implications.” He needs to guide them carefully to the most helpful conclusions. Plain facts, keep them calm, one problem at a time.

Kai clenches kais fists, trying to focus on that feeling, “From the day you brought me home and introduced me as your partner, they’ve been unreceptive. Little mistakes, because they suck at laundry and remembering specific instructions and time management and learning, constant dirty looks when I’m acknowledged at all, and the comments…concern for you voiced as attacks on me and praising you at my expense, and you don’t notice any of it.” Kai sucks in a breath, and adds, barely loud enough to hear over the electric hum of kais monitors, a sound kai typically takes with unease becoming a small blessing for now, “Sometimes, it seemed like you didn’t like me once I wasn’t new anymore…“

The Professor isn’t quite sure how to take this information. Everything his partner describes contrasts with his own experiences. Mistakes certainly happen, but he’s never been on the receiving end of any of them, and he knows the underlings to be perfectly capable of taking correction. Certainly, he remembers his partner laughing about some of these mistakes with him a few times, but what ey is saying now sounds quite different. “Are you doubting my love?”

“No, I just wish you’d bother to pay attention.”

He hums, coming back to a point he’d raised earlier, “Love, why did you hide from me?”

It doesn’t know how to answer that. There’s no acceptable answer at all. It feels the tension leave its body as the active anger fades, “I didn’t realize I was hiding…I guess I wanted to be more like you…”

The Professor slowly reaches toward his partner’s face, torn between wanting to appreciate how they admire him and his deep desire for them to keep the traits he finds himself enraptured by. “It’s okay,” he whispers, “I’ll help you.”

Ey rests eir face on his palm, wishing ey could believe him right now. The longed for comfort isn’t coming, though. The lack of comfort is upsetting, ey’s spiraling slowly, and Lasho knows what ey has to say, against eir every wish. “I think you need to leave.” It pains em not to tack on a thousand disclaimers to try and spare him any discomfort at the price of twisting emself into knots.

The Professor offers no protest nor defense of himself. That is not what his partner needs, nor will it endear him to her. “As you wish.” He takes his hand away and stands slowly. As he begins to leave, he allows himself to examine that perplexing excitement in more detail. How wonderful to be given a second chance at winning his partner over. What a beautiful thing to be gifted this opportunity to experience so many things with it again that most couples only get once. Without meaning to, the game is reset with a new set of rules to learn, and he is more than eager to learn.

While he excitedly goes over all the possibilities opened up to him, his partner is trying to process what she just said and what that all means in the face of her recent lessons and how to balance that against how deeply she cares. She sinks back into the bed as it proves too complex a question for right now. She decides she’s going to try to ignore the world for a while, offering only her repeated “thank you” for every action the medical team takes to preserve her health.

[phospadparadscha]

Disco Universe Pale thoughts-

Instead of being the physical manifestation (de-manifestation?) of entropy, maybe the Pale is instead a phenomenon that causes rapid erosion. Gems without adequate protection are basically getting hit by the world's shittiest sandblaster. The effects are similar to canon Pale exposure, with the added bonus of visible damage. The Paledriver has nicks and scratches across her gem, while Joyce uses some sort of clear coating to obscure hers.

Of course, those lost bits of gem don't just evaporate, they join the rest of the dust making up the Pale. The Pale is mostly inert rock, but there's still a significant amount of gem dust in there. With enough exposure, a Gem can get so worn down they can no longer hold a form and are functionally indistinguishable from shattered gems. I.e., they're fuckin dead.

Harry's druzy damage is rare, because those colors are didn't come from nowhere; they're deposits from other Gems, and the conditions under which they formed wpild normally be lethal. It's why the Skills aren't really whole people; they're miniscule fragments of other Gems, joined together. Almost like the Cluster on a very small scale.

I really really really like this Blue. FIRST of all let me thank you for being so involved in this crossover with me and giving me the enthusiasm to keep illustrating and theorizing for it, it means a lot that you and others as into this as I am because I LOVE both of these medias so just a quick thank you lol. More of my answer below so I don't flood people's dashboards:

I was wracking my brain on how to incorporate the skills into this AU and what to do with the Pale, and for a while I had a vague sense of the pale being a cosmic phenomenon rather than limited to one planet like Elysium in the game. I go into some detail about that and the failed rebellion here.

I agree with you that the pale would be something that causes rapid erosion, and that gems need to prepare physically to protect themselves (like buffing or coating). However I disagree that the Pale wouldn't be psychological in origin still. Steven Universe is a very emotional and interpersonal exploration of characters and I do think that the entropy and psychological horror of the Pale and of fragmented gems can coexist very well in this crossover.

Gems develop listlessness in their stagnating and deteriorating society in Steven Universe and the depleting resources causing physical deformities in gems like peridot and amethyst requiring limb enhancers to accommodate them. I think this idea- of a government failing its people contributing to a miasma of hopelessness and deteriorating sense of self in and outside of the Pale- works very well within the context of both the game and the show, and is part of why I think this AU can work the way it does despite the show and game being wildly different in world building and tone.

Gems like Volleyball for example are what I think the result of Pale damage would be. Volleyball's eye is cracked on her projection. This is a result of the psychological damage to her gem from Pink Diamond's abuse. It cannot be repaired like other cracked gems- it is deeply embedded in her gem and the data that projects her. And when sufficiently stressed, it can even spread. I think this aspect of the Pale damage and rapid erosion you mention would work similarly. The Pale is psychological deterioration and torture. It erodes the sense of self, and the gems themselves in a very permanent way. It is a lot like a sandblaster, but not just for the gem- also for the gem's minds as well, a bit like Houseki no Kuni where if the gem loses its inclusions their memories are lost as well.

What I love MOST about this ask is the way you incorporate the gems as particle dust into Harry's Skills, or furies, or voices. They dust over Harry's gem and erode his own at the same time, in a way that removes a large chunk of his data (his memory and gem coloration / density / powers) and dusts it with the shattered remains of past gems as well. The only issue I see with this theory though is that Harry's skills have been with him since before his wipeout in Martinaise, and are part of why Dora left him and why he was known as a can-opener. So perhaps Harry has always been able to hear these voices on the wind somehow, and only after Martinaise did they nearly over write his own gem. This is one aspect of the theory that I am not sure how to proceed but I think definitely that the drusy formations on his gem being particles of gems lost in the Pale manifesting as his Skills makes a great deal of sense.

Anyways I'm sorry for the long ass response lol I just love this crossover and I'm really glad that it caught your attention Blue because you've brought so much to the table!!! If you ever have art requests or anything at all please let me know and feel free to spam me with ideas and messages bc I'm always on that damn phone lol.

[unleashthegoats]

Hey y'all! Loved the new episode, and wanted to chip in on one of the later points - videogames, especially in relation to the "Grey" Jedi concept. Knights of the Old Republic II really did some irreversible damage in that regard, as much as I love the game (though I prefer the first one). Kreia is one of the most central characters in regard to shifting morality debates in Star Wars (in universe and from fans alike) imo, and I'd honestly be super interested in hearing you three cover either or both of the games in the podcast, although I understand that's highly unlikely since none of you have played them. But she is extremely relevant to this topic because she preaches about neutrality and that there's more than just ~dogmatic thinkings of light and dark~, and your relationship with her suffers if you are kind and altruistic and get too rooted in the light side and she's like...one of *the* characters that kind of gets credited with developing a "grey" philosophy in-universe? But people always bring her up as if she's this great point of sensible consideration and not actually, as it turns out, a master manipulator trying to purge the Force from the galaxy (or something like that at least? It's been a while since my last playthrough lol) that lies to you all the time to get you to do what she wants (because she was so crazy bananas both the Jedi and the Sith said "no thank u :)" - well, with a bit more nuance but you get the gist). Really, it's a bit like people falling for Palpatine's anti-Jedi points all over how they talk about her philosophic arguments without bringing that up. But yeah, I thought you might be interested in that. Also, I think KotOR might be what people meant with being able to unlock Dark Side powers as a Light sider but you are absolutely correct that it's a mechanics vs story issue (especially since some powers are indeed alignment-locked AND making dark side choices does impact the character (apart from story, ending and relationships to your party members). It's a bit of a simplistic gimmick, of course, but the further you get into the Dark Side on the alignment, the more it's visible - sickly skin colour, cracks in the skin and flesh, your eyes change...stuff like that. I don't think using Dark Side powers actually pushes you further down the alignment, but the intent is obviously not for Light Siders to mix and match however they like).

Anyway, I'm so sorry for rambling on for so long, but I thought you (or someone, at least :D ) might appreciate that additional info. Keep up the good podcasting! :)

OUR FIRST ASK! I'm so glad you're enjoying the podcast, thank-you so much for listening to us ramble on for an hour once a month!

This is all really interesting! I've read a few metas about the Star Wars video games and the characters within them which is partly why I chose to briefly include them in the episode (and also because I am familiar with Jedi: Survivor which has its own "dark side" mechanic for the main character that was relevant to the discussion). Aside from Jedi: Survivor, I wasn't necessarily referencing any one specific video game, I assume it's probably a thing that's come up more than once.

As far as my reaction to Kreia goes, just based on your description of her, the idea of there being "too much light" just isn't how Lucas's own worldbuilding worked. It's clearly trying to hit on the idea of "balance" being equal amounts of light and dark usage, as opposed to balance being acknowledging darkness EXISTS (in yourself and in the universe) in order to keep yourself from acting on it. There just isn't a way to be "too light" or something like that, there's never "too much" kindness and compassion and selflessness in the world. In this sense, the video games are just going to fall into the same category as the rest of legends and EU stuff, in that they often just do their own thing based on their own interpretations of Star Wars, but it doesn't mean it actually fits with what Lucas himself was trying to get across about the philosophy of the Force and the Jedi in his own stories, and that's primarily what we're using as a base to discuss Star Wars from.

If any of us ends up playing KOTOR, we can certainly try to bring it up more often. I don't think we have any plans of doing more video game stuff currently, but if the KOTOR remake ever comes to pass, maybe I will!

-Mod Sugar

[mimisempai]

Spread your wings, Angel

Summary

Guilt. 

The weapon that allows heaven to control its angels. 

While Aziraphale believes himself guilty of Crowley's downfall, Crowley will help him break the last chains that bind him to heaven.

Notes

This author doesn't know what she's doing, but she does it anyway.

On Ao3

Rating G -  1624 words

“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago… I have loved none but you.”

THE END

As the sun rose, Aziraphale closed the book he'd just finished and placed it on the small table next to the sofa, being careful not to move too much so as not to wake Crowley.

"Angel, can I stay with you tonight?"

He hadn't even considered refusing for a second.

Not after what they had just shared.

After all these thousands of years, they had finally realized that they were each other's happiness.

And most importantly, they had told each other so.

Aziraphale looked down at the red head on his lap.

He couldn't remember when Crowley had ended up on the sofa that evening, resting his head on Aziraphale's lap and falling asleep like that. 

Things had definitely changed, and Aziraphale couldn't deny that he was a little afraid. Just a little.

Nothing new

He had been afraid of hurting people.

He had been of upsetting them.

He had been of not being enough.

But now he had only one fear: to hurt the being that was sleeping next to him.

Once again.

Crowley, who thought he wasn't good enough, when it was Aziraphale who felt like an endless failure.

As an angel.

As a friend.

He'd done so much damage thinking he was doing good.

Since the beginning of time.

He raised his hand to touch the red hair, but stopped a few inches short. 

He clenched his fist.

Did he have the right to touch the one who had been the greatest victim of his blindness?

Did he have the right to lay a hand on the angel whose fall he had caused?

As the red-haired angel raved with infectious joy about what he had just created and explained to Aziraphale with enthusiasm, Aziraphale explained God's plans to him.

"The impression I get is that the stars and your um..." 

The red-haired angel helped him continue, "Err, call it a nebula."

Aziraphale continued, "Right. Well, they exist just so that the people can look up into the night sky and marvel at the illimitable vastness of The Almighty's creation." 

Looking at the other angel with a satisfied smile, he protested, "But that's idiocy!" and pointing to the infinite sky around them, he continued, "It's the universe, it's not just some fancy wallpaper! Millions of galaxies, trillions of stars, oodles of... everything! It's not just put here to twinkle!"

He turned to Aziraphale and added in the same disappointed tone,“Most of it won’t even be visible from Earth. Why don’t you put Earth in the middle of the universe so the view’s better?” 

Aziraphale replied in a wise manner,“It’s not our job to advise The Almighty on the details of creation.”

The red-haired angel protested again,“Well, then whose job is it? I mean, someone has to say, Look, boss, this is a really, really terrible idea." 

Aziraphale, though amused, replied seriously, “Well, I suspect that would be considered inappropriate.”

The other angel, still looking disappointed, replied stubbornly, “Well, I don’t suppose anyone could object to me putting a note into the suggestion box.”

Aziraphale answered him in the most serious, learned tone, “I don’t believe The Almighty has actually created a suggestion box. And furthermore, I don’t think it’s our place to start suggesting that there should be a suggestion box.”

The red-haired angel insisted, however, “Well, if I was the one running it all,  I’d like it if someone asked questions. Fresh point of view.”

Aziraphale, increasingly worried about the direction the conversation was taking, looked at him as he continued, "You can't just create a universe, run it for a few thousand years, and then stop.

Aziraphale tried to distract him by complimenting his creation with forced enthusiasm, "I like the pinky-blue bit in the corner of the, the nebula. Yes, it's very um, ah!"

Then a little more urgently, he turned to the red-haired angel again and added, wanting to convince him at all costs, "Um, but look, word to the wise, I'd hate to see you getting into any trouble."

And he meant it. 

The other angel looked very nice, was talented, had created such beauty, and Aziraphale didn't want anything bad to happen to him.

The red-haired angel looked at the nebula with a gentle smile, then turned to Aziraphale and said in a friendly tone, "Mm, thanks for your help. And thanks for your advice," before adding confidently, "I wouldn't worry, though. How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

He turned back to the nebula and Aziraphale did the same. Together they watched the stars fall as the red-haired angel's wing unfolded over Aziraphale to protect him.

Metatron's words to Crowley came back to mind.

“Always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions, too.”

How much trouble can you get into just for asking a few questions?

Only one.

You fall.

Aziraphale gasped.

He had caused Crowley's downfall.

Aziraphale gasped again.

He had so much to repent for.

But this was perhaps his greatest sin.

"Angel? Are you all right?"

Lost in thought, he hadn't noticed that the demon had awakened and was now looking up at him from his lap, a worried look on his face.

Aziraphale, unable to meet the demon's gentle gaze, covered his face with his hands.

He felt the demon straighten up and his hands grab the angel's wrists, calling softly, "Angel, speak to me."

Crowley pulled the Angel's hands away from his face and repeated, ever so softly, "Aziraphale, tell me what's wrong, please."

Aziraphale tried to pull away, but Crowley held him tightly, his tone even more concerned as he insisted, "Angel! Talk to me!"

Aziraphale cried out, his voice breaking, "How? How can you stand to be here with me? How can you speak to me so kindly? How can you even look at me, knowing what I've done? It's my fault that you... it's... when..."

The Angel had to stop as the sobs threatened to suffocate him.

Crowley grabbed his shoulders, genuinely concerned, and asked, "I told you I forgave you last night, so explain, I don't understand."

Aziraphale swallowed several times before he could speak, "If... If I hadn't told you about God's plans that day, you... you wouldn't have questioned her and you wouldn't have fallen. It's all my fault. So how could you stand by my side all this time when it's because of me that..."

He stopped because Crowley had just put his finger over his mouth.

The demon said firmly, "Angel! Stop this at once! If I hadn't asked questions that day, I would have asked them later. You are not responsible for my downfall. No more than I am. The only ones who are responsible are those who tore me down because I dared to question God's plans. Not you. Not me. Just them. You haven't done anything wrong. Not for one tiny second of my entire existence did I blame you. I never did. I know that I said I was a demon. That it means I lie. But not to you. Not to you anymore. Tell me you believe me."

Aziraphale scanned Crowley's face for a few seconds, looking for the slightest trace of resentment, but seeing none on the demon's face, he nodded slowly.

The demon said softly, opening his arms, "Come here, angel.

Aziraphale snuggled up against him immediately as the demon wrapped his arms around him.

With his lips in the pale locks, Crowley said softly, "Good old-fashioned guilt. Your side's secret weapon. That's how they got you, up there. Don't eat that, don't drink that, don't ask questions, don't step out of line. You've heard it for so long, but it's all over. They don't have anything more to say to you. We're going to free you from this guilt, my angel. I want to see you open your wings, your real wings, and embrace life. I want to see you thrive. Even if it's just to see you borrow my Bentley or throw a ball for the neighborhood shopkeepers. I don't want to see you second-guessing yourself. Stop smiling because you think you shouldn't. I want to see you do what you think is right because you want to, without wondering if it's what Heaven intended. I want to see you reach out and take what you want."

Aziraphale nodded his head against Crowley's chest and whispered, "I want that, too."

Crowley grabbed the Angel's shoulders to pull him back a bit and said softly, "I know you want it. I saw it in your eyes the first time on the wall. When you felt guilty about giving away the flaming sword. I saw it when the flood took away the children. When you felt guilty although you had no responsibility. Whenever your own conscience overrode your angelic nature and made you thwart God's plans, I saw it."

The demon cupped Aziraphale's face in his hands and whispered against his lips, "You deserve to just live, angel. We both do, don't we?"

Aziraphale nodded and murmured, "Crowley."

"Yeah?"

Aziraphale said in a much clearer voice, "Kiss me."

The demon smiled softly and murmured, "Yes, angel, just like that. You just have to want and reach for it." 

Then he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to the angel's, happy to see him finally breaking his chains. 

For good.

Quote - Persuasion - Jane Austen

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[ellieellieoxenfree]

pulled a bunch of screencaps when writing the last meta, and picked up on a little detail i hadn’t noticed before re: CDY’s and chen yi’s tattoos. i hadn’t paid close enough attention to notice their differences beyond the placements, but this time i realized that at the bottom of his, CDY has a rose, while chen yi has a lion cub.

(i know that's not the best picture of chen yi's tattoo, but it's where i pulled the screencap originally and i'm not getting one from later on because it's 6:30 am and i don't want to. the important detail is still visible.)

more or less transposing early-morning thoughts from discord about it:

i’m not an expert in the language of flowers, and with a black-and-white tattoo, it’s hard to say what CDY’s rose suggests. @ nibupei correctly points out that yiyun meng has no ties to roses, and a quick duckduckgo search mentions several meanings for roses, depending on color: love, mourning, happiness, innocence, worthiness, jealousy, falling out of love, and infidelity. it’s a gamut. but from a general physical sense, roses are beautiful, fragile, finicky things with vicious thorns that can do some real damage if you get too close. which…seems pretty accurate, all things considered. so, to me, CDY is very much putting himself apart from others. admire from a distance, do not touch.

chen yi’s, in contrast, says reliability and protectiveness to me. as the boss of north hall from an alarmingly young age, he DOES have the responsibility of carrying yiyun meng on his back, and he knows that he is responsible for the safety of the members in his care. and noticing the detail of the lion cub made several months’ worth of thinking click something into place for me — the recurring motif of how ai di looks at the tattoo. in episode 3, he looks over at it wistfully; in episode 9, when he’s kissing chen yi and he notices the tattoo, he immediately shoves chen yi down on his back so he doesn’t have to look at it any longer. (contrast this to the way he interacts with chen yi in episode 12 once their feelings for each other are assured.) and i thought it was a general heartache about chen yi’s loyalties to CDY and yiyun meng over ai di as a person. and i do think it’s still that, absolutely, but i don’t think that’s the whole picture. i think it also serves as a permanent physical reminder of what he is to chen yi, which is a little kid. someone who needs minding or looking after. a responsibility and a burden and an annoying kid brother. ai di isn’t someone who meets him as an equal and who chen yi could love as intensely as ai di loves him. and that’s so deliciously poignant to me, that ai di spends his life watching chen yi’s back, the same back that’s physically marked with a reminder for him to know his place. (the pain of that is compounded by knowing the tattoo is a way to ape CDY and try to earn his approval. by trying to mimic the emotionally-withholding boss, chen yi unknowingly continues the same abusive patterns that CDY did with him, being physically present but never providing the full affection that’s so desperately craved.)

(marge simpson voice) i just think it’s neat!

[w-stote]

Vacation au

|| Jujutsu kaisen post chapter 236 headcanons. It follows the fic I written for a friend and posted on ao3. Heavy spoilers guys, get out of this train of thoughts if you don't wanna get smashed.||

Gojo isn't dead and not cut in two

He is cut though, deeply in the abdomen

Basically, only his spine area is still connected to his lower body

Though, everyone thinks he is dead, because not moving, no healing visible and fogged eyes

So everyone goes to fight and they defeat Sukuna

Yuuji unlocks his own curse technique and thats how he is able to save megumi's body and megumi inside it too

then they kill kenjaku

at the same time, shoko was about to retrieve Gojo's body

she took a break next to it after healing people before kenjaku's fight

she was talking to it about vacations that should have been taken before all this happened

what happened to nanami's idea of going south?

but when she gets up to take the body back, it gasps

She goes to help Gojo heal himself

"You are right. We need vacations." is the first thing he says

Few weeks later and some experimentation later, they know that Gojo cannot fight anymore

The brain and spine damage he got during the fight was too much and while healing saved him, it also fucked his cursed energy

Also I am bringing back the Gojo losing his left eye theory back

His left eye is damaged also during the fight and now he is practically blind with it

and lets add that the six eyes where dmg in the same process. It works with his vision so if he cannot see properly because his eyes are not working, the effect is diminished

so the tinted glasses stays! but now they help him with seeing because cursed tools

Also his body is not.... well anymore

so yeah he cannot fight properly anymore

He stays a teacher but no more mission on the side

Higher ups "bans" him from being involved in politics anymore too

he is totally fine with it, as long as it means they leave him alone

Gojo is able to fully concentrate on his work as a teacher and he is loving it

He helps Yuuji with figuring out his new curse technique

having sukuna inside him unlocked the curse energy kenjaku "locked away" when making him

Also Gojo support Yuuji and Megumi while they help each other with getting their bodies back to themselves again

Nobara lives (for fuck's sake where is my girl)

She also lost an eye, completly on her part and now wear an eyepatch

Gojo and her complains about their looks being ruined because of the scars (even though they still look gorgeous hello?) and the struggle of visual impairment

The school got more teacher now too

those kids need to learn about math and japanese and Gojo cannot do all of that pls

also they got a whole team of counselor, social worker and nurses

Shokok doesnt have to work 24/7 and heal every little cut

also she got help for when major stuff happen

Those new folks aren't necessarily curse user, but most of them have a background in it

they also all knew about jujutsu world before the culling game

Jujutsu politics is still a nightmare and it takes more than a year to figure out things out

The higher ups after trying to fight to stay in charge are finally fired

Coming back on the first year trio, they do movie night every week or so with the second and third years now. also they sometimes get the students from the other school to join. or they do a shared watch with a video call at the same time

gojo and shoko do brunch every month to catch up and be sure to see each other outside of work

Gojo rides now a bike or takes the subway, no more fast forwarding his way through space and time anymore

it does him good

he goes bike with Ino sometimes

he got a fancy pricy bike but it is the best model bike industry got to offer, he also got a bike helmet that his so extra, like it got six eyes or something on it

or like gojo cats everywhere

I think thats all for now

[sexylil-doll]

Loving is something that everyone finds difficult, but for you, choosing is harder. It's harder when you need to choose between you and your love. Disregarding something along the way.

"I was always excited to meet you, guess it's not the same anymore"

Hearing Sunghoon say those words shattered your heart to pieces. His eyes were void of any emotions, but his voice was laced with emotions that one can point out. The pain, anger, and sadness in his voice made you question yourself.

How could you hurt someone as precious as him?

How thick is your face?

Are you not ashamed of yourself, hurting someone who did nothing but to love you?

Sunghoon was so nice. Too nice that you were afraid if you could be enough for him. You were sorry if you broke his heart to pieces and left him alone to mend it, just to come back as if nothing had happened.

"Why did you leave?" Sunghoon asked after a minute of silence asked.

"I was scared and at the same time broken. I was guilty of all the things that my mother has done." You paused for a moment because of the tears that were threatening to fall.

As much as you try your best not to cry, you can't help but to just let your tears fall.

"But those things aren't your doings. Didn't you hear what my mom said? 'It is not the sin of the child what their parents did wrong'," he mumbled the same exact words that his mother had told you when you learned the things your mother has done to their family.

"Basically, it was not your fault why those things happened. So why blame yourself?"

You were silently listening to everything he said.

Sunghoon is just too perfect for you. Too perfect that you always question yourself if you even deserve him when you were still together.

"Was my love not enough to reassure you? Was it not enough to make you feel better? Was it not enough to make you stay?", your eyes widened as you looked up to him.

His eyes were now bloodshot. Pain, and longing were visible, alongside the anger. To hear him ask those things shattered your already broken heart to pieces. The least thing you wanted him to feel was for him to think if he was enough for a person's love.

But hearing Sunghoon doubt himself if ever his love was enough for you to stay made you think of how much damage you caused him for him to think and ask those questions. You're such a fool. You don't deserve him.

"No, love. You are more than enough. Don't ever doubt yourself, nor your love." You answered while crying.

"I'm the one who's at wrong, not you, but me." You. reached for his hand. "You're good enough to be mine, Hoon. And I will never be enough for you as you are to me."

"I was never good enough for you and I will never be. Just like a line in a song, you were a sunshine Sunghoon... too good for me and too nice. While I am a midnight rain. The one who will only and always cause you pain."

"You love me right? Why can't you just choose me instead? Choose me again, love..." You felt your world crumbled as you heard him ask you those.

"I've been choosing you for years now, Hoon. But this time, I'm sorry..."

You pulled your hand away, letting go of his.

"This time, I'm choosing myself. No matter what it takes, even if it hurts. I will now set aside my feelings and emotions. No matter how much I wanted to stay with you, I will still choose me, over you. Even if leaving means hurting you and breaking my own heart..."

After saying those words you gather your things and get up, leaving him. Leaving the place with a broken and empty heart in tow.

The love you have within you is not that strong enough to hold two hearts at a time, it can only accommodate one. And you're selfishly choosing yours...

[msfbgraves]

(when Michael assured him that the omega, Anna, was never with Terry's pup and was now mated to a Chicago musician, with young pups of her own.)

You did NOT just allude to Terry McCain and Anna from Excessive Force!! GASP. So clever!! It all makes sense now, she really was the really beautiful female version of Daniel. I guess Terry Silver made such a huge impression on her that she had to marry his long-lost twin lol. Happy ending I guess…? At the same time it shows that though Terry was so disgustingly inebriated, he still went for the closest thing that resembled Daniel. Says a lot.

(As for Terry's people - everyone who didn't know does now, and that was excruciating... but they were all on his side.)

I’m dumb, but I’m kinda confused at the working here—when you say they were all on his side, do you mean on Terry’s side or Daniel’s?

I hate that so many people know about Terry’s infidelity (and no one except Anna knows how far it really went…ARGH. But I am glad he didn’t do all this when Daniel was with pup, that would have made it EVEN WORSE. And that Anna didn’t get knocked up. THE HORROR. Thanks for snooping, Michael! It does make me sad that things weren’t normal between Daniel and Terry for months after the 16th anniversary fail-night. I guess it shows how worried and hurt Daniel really was by all this, plus the added stress of not knowing if Terry got someone else pregnant.

If Terry had, and Michael had found out, how would Daniel feel? What would he do, what would Terry do?

Do the older pups know that Daddy cheated on Mama?

Love that Danny boy had his Name Day celebration and everyone came out in support. Baby boy <333 T_T Hope Terry felt ashamed and horrible <333

My bad - everyone who heard about Terry's cheating at the wake was on Daniel's side. Jaysis, what a mess, so it was! Drink and grief is a terrible combination that way. You can't even blame the poor fella who forgot himself, can you?

I don't think Terry would have done all this had Daniel been with pup, he would have been attacking his own pup, evolutionary speaking that would have put the brakes on. I think Alphas have the same brutal instinct as we do in wartime, that getting an 'enemy' omega or beta woman with pup is a power move, but assaulting your own pregnant women and omegas is too horrible to think about. I feel that people are collectively most protective of visibly pregnant women (and indeed most aggressive towards them when they are battle mad).

But he wasn't with pup.

Also, part of the 'months' mentioned was before the anniversary, but yeah - do we expect him to take everything? Nice deflection of Terry attacking his supposed lack of loyalty, but Daniel is right, keep doing this and even his capacity forgiveness may hit a limit. Peversely, Terry may have been right not telling him, because had he known straight away, Daniel might have nodded when the Don suggested murder.

This is, also, why his family didn't mention anything before. Michael has known about Anna for years, as has Pop. No way they didn't keep tabs on Terry from the second sweet Daniele turned up on their doorstep. It's the first thing the Don ordered Michael to do after putting the fear of God in him - damage control. The further damage being Anna, and had she been with pup, to 'take care of it', make her disappear. When they knew she wasn't with pup, they would have gotten her out of NYC except that John Kreese was ahead of them there. (John would not have had Terry's pup killed, because Terry. Michael would absolutely have had Terry's pup killed, because Terry.)

If Terry had and Michael would have found out, what would Daniel feel? What is there to feel, Daniele? She died before anyone could ever be sure. Yes, an accident, Piccino, those things happen. Don't torture yourself, you know kitties like this meet the wrong people, they are strung out on God knows what sometimes. Did we have anything to do with it? Daniele, baby, it's none of our business. And would any Alpha kill their own pup? Of course not.

Do you swear, Michael?!

Don't insult me. I know you're in pain, Piccino. But don't insult me. Come here, now, give me a hug. It's over, you'll be fine, I promise.

Had Terry found out about a potential pup he would have had to go directly against Michael stop it and Amanda was busy enough thwarting several "accidents" that could have befallen Terry in Sicily as it was. He would have lost, he knows he would have lost, and Terry might feel some kind of primal ache at the idea but he never would have risked it. It's a cold world he lives in.

But! Anna is alive and happily mated and out of the business, she and her mate run a bar. Apparently the guy got kicked out of the force but like Michael cares. Chicago is not their turf, Terry handles new markets.

Do the older pups know Terry cheated on Mama? It's the biggest open secret in the world, but even Eli has enough self control to not even hint at it, especially after Sam had that little talk with Daddy. They were too young, and people say things when they're drunk. We DO NOT TALK about it, Anthony, shut up. No. Shut up! I don't care what you heard, who said anything anyway, I'll shut that bastard up for you. Oh, no, don't? Then stop trying to be clever, little egg, you weren't even alive yet.

I...don't think Terry feels easily ashamed in spite of it all. He has that sureness of his convictions that is just this side of quite sane. He's not sorry he's done it, he's sorry about the effect he's had. He wouldn't have been ashamed if he'd never been found out. Again, you couldn't go around murdering people if you weren't somehow above what other people want in your own mind. So that nameday celebration? He knows why and yet he takes it completely at face value in demeanor. Of course they should celebrate his mate. They should have sooner, come to think of it.

[discipulusmaleficus]

(suffered a whim and drafted a new, wordier post for the fundamentals of my Weird Magic System Nonsense (1, 2) bc I never bothered convert pt. 1 from handwriting to text and it's ugly. I do not promise this is comprehensible, coherent or interesting.)

Magic is not a solved science. It's difficult enough trying to integrate the different models and techniques used by various magical traditions throughout the world even without trying to throw quantum mechanics into the mix. Furthermore, for historical and cultural reasons, much of the magical community remains reluctant to entertain certain investigations.

(Besides, wouldn't want to make yourself redundant, would you?)

I have vague and silly ideas about it, though.

RE: MATERIAL AND EXTRAMATERIAL SPACE

Magic, like material matter, most likely takes the form of particles and waves (which are the same thing ;) ). (No I do not have names and basic properties for the fundamental magical particles and I am not going to. I was considering charges of hot/cold and wet/dry despite these not meaning anything relevant to our macro understanding of these things, though.)

Now.

As a rule, material particles live in the mostly-flat three dimensional space we are familiar with navigating, and do not have the magical energy to leave it unless charged by an outside force.

As previously noted, magic takes place in six dimensions. Anything not on the material plane is on the astral plane, making it much larger and more confusing to navigate.

Similiarly, as a rule, pure magic exists Around the material plane and will only ever -- usually never -- be briefly visible or solid from our perspective. It can, however, bond with and influence both solid and magical particles -- in fact, essentially every molecule has magical elements. Magic is prone to loosely orbiting the material plane, though this effect peters out the further you get from it. (Have fun getting lost in the void.)

Purely or primarily magical entities include ghosts, curses, most daemons, and abominations such that how best to describe or categorise them is a lively debate.

RE: SOULS OR AURAS OR WHATEVER

All living things have some biological systems that extend into the astral plane. In intelligent species, this is what we call the 'soul'. Its anatomy is complex, fluid and poorly mapped, and can vary on an individual basis far more than our physical forms. Certainly, though, it is -- in most people -- capable of forming prehensile appendages, of absorbing and channeling magical energy, and of something resembling sight, touch and taste. Good passive defence against hexes correlates with less sensitivity.

Magic as an activity is, at its core, simply the ability to make use of said extramaterial Bits to achieve useful work. Our minds aren't really equipped to comprehend the full picture here, so anything sensed spiritually is generally subconscious or translated into an easier-to-digest form which varies person to person. This is also, of course, why mages are so often reliant on visualisation, symbolism and instinct.

Although they can naturally be pried apart temporarily, damage or extended separation is liable to cause brain damage and no doubt any other number of lovely things. Getting lost outside reality will generally render your body a vegetable, although there are some isolated reports of such examples going on to recover and develop new, different identities.

Typically, even when astral projecting, it's possible to maintain enough of an umbilical cord that this isn't a major issue. Total separation releases energy and requires energy to undo -- which is part of why one can harvest energy from animal and human sacrifice, as well as why young idiot mages occasionally need help getting back into their bodies.

[wildwinterlunas]

Alright so...

I started reading into Ana's lore a bit. Does she not remember how she got to the hospital in Poland? Who brought her? Why was there no traces after Cassidy went to go look? HOW was there no traces? No blood? No anything? There had to at least be blood. It's mentioned that there was glass and shrapnel in her eye, and I highly doubt there wasn't any trace not left.

(Unless Ana forgot to turn on her blood shed visibility in the game settings.)

Either I didn't read far enough yet, or I skipped a part, but I've tried looking into some information and it all says the same exact thing.

'Ana woke up in a hospital in Poland, with no recollection of who she was.'

How? Who brought her?? Who found her???

Am I reading it wrong?

Am I delusional? MAYBE.

Ok so from what I know it's most likely that the mission Widowmaker shot Ana on was in Poland as so far I have not seen any confirmation that it was anywhere else and the mission taking place in Poland leaves a lot more leeway in her disappearance.

As for the no trace thing that's actually easy to explain. We know that unlike Jack and Gabe, Ana was a long distance fighter, she was in the backlines. We also don't see anyone other then military/solider characters talk about her like other characters do with Sojourn and Jack. Meaning it is likely that the only place people would recognize her without actually meeting her is in Egypt where she was famous as a protector. From what I've seen she wasn't really featured on the Overwatch poster either, so it's very likely she was a lesser known member of the Strike team despite being Jack's second in command.

As for the lack of blood, as we see both times we're shown Ana being shot by Widowmaker;

There is no blood, this is most likely because the eye that was shot out was cybernetic. Possibly making the only damage other then her eye being nerve damage (as we know she suffers from phantom pains), which combined with a traumatic event like discovering someone you know is now a terrorist, would probably cause memory loss.

As for who brought her I don't think we have an answer to that, we see that she's still conscious when she's shot and if they were in Poland it's possible she could have dragged herself to a hospital?

Either that or someone found her injured and reasonably called the ambulance. We know she requested to remain out of the system and that request was accepted so it's possible that request ended up branching to the person who found her.

Either way I doubt it was any fault of Overwatch that they weren't able to find her. At the very least Cassidy would have tried his hardest to find her. Though neither him, Jack or Gabriel seemed as surprised as I would expect them to be. I mentioned in a previous post that I think the search for Ana was less concluded with them saying Ana was dead and more called off because it was taking up too much time and resources, either by Jack's order or the UN's. Because of that I have a hard time believing that Cassidy, Jack and Gabe fully believes that she was dead.

I might be completely wrong though, it's been awhile since I've read Bastet (I love the story and how it's written, I just hate how everything is actually formatted in the book)

[brucethewannabebard]

(Don’t) Say “I Love You”

I won’t say I love you. But try not to take it personally. It is just that word has a different meaning for you than it does to me. See words have power and can mean different things to different people. Love unfortunately has lost the deeper meaning it once had for most people. Most use it too liberally, Saying to to everyone about everything. Most people have come to think love just means to like a lot. So they love whatever new show or trend has their attention, forgetting that the thing they loved a month ago they now barely think about. So when you say you love me, do you mean like you love a movie?

Some people try to spread love, insisting that they are full of it to the point they can give it to everyone. People who truly have that much love do exists, but they are few and far between. More often they are people just trying to hide their own damages by trying to please others. Or someone who is more concerned with the concept than the practice. You see most people use love in this context to mean be kind, respectful, and compassionate. But I can give all those things to someone I have no love for. It is simple. So Love stops being about the actual emotion and instead becomes short hand for just not being a bad person. So when you say you love me, do you mean it like you do for that homeless man you gave money to? 

Still more people use it for their friends and family. This is both the most honest common use of love and the biggest killer of the word. Because you can have great platonic and familial love for others, and mean it when you say it. But when you say it to a romantic partner, people often use it because it is a strong feeling like they have for their friends. Thus the problem begins, because infatuation, lust, and fascination can be easily confused for love when you throw in romance to cloud the vision. So when you say you love me, do you really? Or do you just love the excitement of something new? Do you just feel attraction strong enough that you lack a better word so you use the only one you have for strong feelings?

See, while I may be guilty of using the word in all the ways I described, I never lost sight of what it means to me when I say it to a partner. Love in that context isn’t some passing fad, nor some generic good will. It isn’t just the convenient short hand for caring. When I say I love you, I mean it as deeply as I can. It is implicit trust, unwavering support, and dedication. It is me saying I have weighed the options and decided I would rather spend every day with you, no matter the challenges, than ever face the world again without you. 

It is passion that burns so strong that it is visible behind my eyes if you know what to look for. It is the desire to comfort and serve you, and put you first in everything I do. It is wanting to do everything and nothing with you. It is the  comfort to be vulnerable, and open. To have no secrets and no fear. I mean it from the deepest depths of my heart, and to the end of time. 

Because there is no one I have ever said it to that I stopped loving. Sure some of them I hate now as well, but the love is still there. Because when you truly love, you love them regardless of how they wrong you. So I won’t say “I love you”, not until I am sure I mean it. Because if I said it without feeling to that extreme, it would be dishonest of me. So when I do say it, you must understand, I will from then on be in your corner forever. Because I have learned how to live with loving someone, even after they stop liking me. 

But please, now that you know what I expect from the word, don’t say you love me. Because I just might be foolish enough to believe it again. Then when I discover you don’t mean the same thing I do, it will start to crumble. I will still love you, and that I can deal with. But I can’t take the disappointment of another false love again. So say you like me, you enjoy my company, that you miss me when I am gone. Say you care, but not that you love. Because if you tell me that, and I believe it, I won’t be able to survive finding out it was a lie. 

[electricbluebutterflies]

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

Choice-era Jessica/Leto, PG-ish, also on ao3.

This is all a mistake of world-ending proportions.

Jessica is well aware that her power is matched only by her impulsive streak, the impacts of her training faded by a few years of far less supervision than she knows how to function under, and she knows just as well that she is prone to blowing things out of proportion. But direct defiance is a new one for her, and the disapproving thoughts in her mind these past few months have been endless, and-

This has all been the biggest mistake of her little life. It’s about time for her to at least not be alone in it.

Not completely alone, she reminds herself – she has felt flickers of the other life inside her since she created it, the vague forming energy that is becoming her son. With this, fear; with this, love in a way that overwhelms her. Damned reckless decision, yes, but already the power of it, already-

Her mind keeps secrets; her body keeps more, the slight changes of her shape buried under her usual layers, the preferences she has allowed herself to develop perfectly suited to hide a pregnancy for several months more if she decides to. Only exposed is something different, and even that is indefinite for now, just the slightest redefining of her shape, no obvious explanation and besides she was always just a little too small, and-

If her partner has noticed, he hasn’t said, but the kindness of oblivion will only last so long. Like everything else, she is learning, this will be easier if she takes control and does it on her own terms.

She decides to have the conversation in the quiet of night, as she does all important things – easier to make herself be a person if she’s tired, and that happens easier now than it did before. This is already a defining line in her life, perhaps even more so than her placement, and-

“What am I going to have to pretend I don’t know?”

How thoroughly they have built routines, she thinks, and how little of this will have to change if they survive the year. She is overcome with love for her partner, for how easily he adapted to her behaviors and tendencies – no efforts to change her, just the development of polite euphemisms and an interpersonal dynamic that hinges far too much on plausible deniability. Normally when she goes quiet it’s that sort of thing, some minor bit of damage control that shouldn’t cause fallout but one never knows and it’s always better to be safe, and-

“You always assume the worst,” she replies, hoping she sounds affectionate enough. She has proven herself in these years, she has responded to what has been offered, she has-

“You’re not normally that tense unless you’re up to something.” Reciprocated affection, and not wrong, and-

“We do need to talk,” she says, well aware what meaning those words tend to carry in a feminine voice. “About me. About us. About…”

Skies, there is no good script for this conversation. She’d been half tempted to wait until her new curves are too obvious to politely ignore, there are no good options for this, she’s too tense and far too clothed and-

“Is something wrong?”

She suppresses a blush, suppresses the affection she should know better than to feel at every little kindness. “No, not… nothing wrong, love.”

“Then what-“

This would have been easier with skin visible, she thinks again, and she’s half tempted to strip but that would cause more problems than it would solve. Normal women, she suspects, do not have this much panic about such confessions. Normal women do not-

Jessica is not and will never pass for normal, and she’s winging this as she goes the same way she is learning to do everything else. She moves closer to her partner, perches her body on the edge of a chair, damn how domestically useless he is sometimes, damn-

“I am not alone in my body.”

For a moment there is silence; for a moment it is as if the planet itself has stopped moving. She watches him react, counts the seconds until he realizes what she’s said, the restrained reflex towards closeness, towards her, this moment he will remember with his dying breath because he has never wanted anything more in the world. The certainty of it all, of desire manifested, of-

“How long?”

“Close to two months. I… I have faith in this. In us.”

She sees how it hurts him to hold back, to not know the state of her heart and how much she would tolerate right now and she wants to freeze this moment forever, wants to hide it deep in her own heart where the storms ahead cannot touch it. She will face reality in the morning; for now, in her confession, it is enough to cross the small distance, to melt into her partner’s offered embrace, to be safe, to be-

“I don’t know what to say right now.”

Affection in that, and pride in return. To render that man speechless, to be so overwhelming against his core nature, to do so by accident… this is the depth of what it is to be loved, she suspects. To be, from here until the end of all things, everything because of one decision that was objectively the worst thing she could’ve done but oh how could anything be wrong that gives her such warmth in return, how could anything-

“Your heart is beating so fast right now,” her lover murmurs, bringing her back to this moment, back into her body. His hands have found a place on her abdomen, already protective; he has known about their child for only a few minutes and this is already his deepest loyalty. Even she, important as she is, will not compare to the commitments currently forming in his mind. Even she-

“Is this…”

She wants to be told she is loved, she is perfect, she is completion. She knows she is all of these things, but words would be nice, the warmth with which she responds to her partner’s voice would be nice, she would like-

“I didn’t think you would.” Voice deep with a longing she still does not understand, a set of wounds acquired long before her that she may yet heal. “I didn’t really think-“

“You ask me for so little,” she murmurs, and she would do more, she would do so much more in a heartbeat but it is not in his nature to burden her. “But you wanted this and I-“

Her voice breaks with the fear of it all. To be so reckless, to take such risks, to not know what sort of being their son will actually be and still-

She focuses inward for a moment, on the flickers of half-life assembling themselves in the warm hollows  of her body, and makes her own promises. Whatever happens, she will love as best as her fragile heart can. Whatever happens, she will defer to her partner and otherwise run every bit of damage control she can think of. Whatever happens, this is where life is.

“I still didn’t-“

“Of all times for your confidence to slip,” she laughs, and for a moment she believes they will be alright. “You have made me… you have made me feel safe enough for this. I hope our son always feels that too.”

Perhaps it is too soon to give her partner that weight too, but she feels the wave of emotions come over him, that one little detail making their situation even more perfect. She tries, for a moment, to see it all as he must, the unexpected but hoped-for result of so many tired daydreams, of-

“Our son,” he repeats, and few things have ever sounded so important. “You have truly given me everything.”

More than he’ll ever know, she wants to say. From now on, her personal obligations to protect their family carry risks she will do her best to make sure he never knows. Those precious requests had been made without understanding, and she will keep that innocence, she will-

“I would like to keep quiet a few more weeks,” she murmurs, already thinking ahead to plans turned logistical nightmares turned oh goodness she doesn’t even know the relevant planetside protocols. “If possible. Think through how to-“

“That would be alright.”

She shifts position and takes a kiss, and for the first real moment of her life, Jessica feels safe. Perhaps her rebellion is a false alarm, but even if it isn’t… she knows what she has done, what she has bound herself to by opening her body in this way. Her partner is nothing if not loyal; he made space for her in uncertainty, did not shape them into anything too soon, and… now look at them. Look at the beauty they have become. Look at-

“A few weeks,” she repeats like a promise against his skin. “No more than that. No-“

“I already said yes,” her partner murmurs as one of his hands moves to her hair. “What more do you need?”

Everything, she’d say if she were brave. Vow against her skin that he will choose them above all else. Actually say things instead of just showing her. Be the man everyone outside these walls thinks he is. Be-

For the moment, at least, Jessica is not brave, and she is too tired for a fight or how they tend to each other afterwards.

“I don’t want to be difficult,” she says, even as she knows that means nothing right now.

“Can you stop panicking and let me hold you?”

She is not panicking, she would like to point out, she is having a perfectly rational set of responses to the vivid possible complications and the more realistic but still frustrating administrative work associated with the most spectacularly impulsive thing she has ever done, but…

She does. What else is there?

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

I wasn't sure if I should put my reply to the comment you made on my pictures in a reblog or just send it to you directly as an ask, so I just chose this way because I just kind of babbled about some of the things I was thinking while I was drawing them and that seemed kind of weird to add to the post?

But anyway, I must have read your reply and tags like 20 times, thank you so much!!! I'm very happy to hear you liked them! And don't worry, I immediately took your zombie comment as a compliment, because I wanted to give him the same sort of haunted and unsettling 'might break into a sprint on all fours and bite you' look you gave him lmao. And as far as horrible noises go... I looked up jackrabbit distress calls and yikes.

Actually, Ingo without his coat was the first one I drew, because I was obsessing over how he looked in that first picture of yours and absolutely Needed to draw what I thought he had to look like under his coat. And the second thing I drew was the one with him and Emmet, because I realized that, even if he couldn't see all of the damage through the coat and tunic, That's what Ingo looked like the first time Emmet saw him again. I had a lot of feelings about that, and also liked the contrast between them. Plus the general feeling of like, they can no longer stand together as perfect mirrors, but it doesn't matter, they'll work to meet in the middle all the same.

And the scars! While I was adding them I was like he probably doesn't have anything too bad on the torso because his coat isn't really shredded there, and he's fast enough that most things couldn't catch him to do much damage. But pokemon throw their attacks in the game, he probably handles babies with sharp claws and an instinct to climb, and his coat had to get torn somehow, so those scars were made with the intent to look like they came from his coat no longer being there to protect his legs and forearms from getting cut up instead.

... Does Cyllene have blue fur?? Because I was genuinely wondering about that.

i mean it's your post you can put whatever you want on it, but yeah this is cool too! as long as you don't mind if i keep answering your asks publicly lol

anyway thank YOU again for the lovely art!! yeahh he should have those vibes of like. "that thing is a PREY animal?? are you SURE??" also do we think anthros are capable of like making the same noises as their regular animals? i mean, the kids can purr i am not budging on this matter they NEED to purr or i'll riot. so i guess by extension other anthros can make similar animal vocalizations in addition to regular speech? but maybe it's considered something you only really do instinctively and/or doing it on purpose has specific social connotations.

hhh yeah... i think your drawing is pretty spot-on re: what he would look like, and Ouch yeah that would hurt emmet So Bad. including the fact that in person he's also visibly in High Alert mode and he's breathing wrong and his hands are shaking and- what did they do to his brother?

the idea that a good portion of his scars are just from overenthusiastic sneasel kits (kits? cubs?) though, lmao. but that's its own, like, ingo, you don't have to let them scale you using all of their claws. but he just doesn't care enough to stop them. but most of them are probably a shifting array of temporary-and-fading scars anyway. and then there are the bigger, nastier ones, from the full-grown mons that were actually on the attack...

mmm i almost feel like i'd need to do some color tests to decide whether she's blue, or sandy regular mountain lion colors, or a mix of both. like it might be too overpowering to make her grey-blue on top of her survey corps outfit, but then the sandy color might be too much of a contrast, or the mix would just look weird. idk i might revisit that! hmm.

[radioaf]

{*rubs hands together while evilly chuckling* I'm going to talk about Alastor touch averse which is also something I deal with on a daily basis so I'm gonna have fun writing this one my loves because I am going to mention a little bit about how I think his childhood was like and what's I think it like for him being touched. This headcanon is very personal for me so please be kind I worked hard on this}

triggers: mentions of past childhood trauma and scars

First things first as always let's have a little explanation on what touch averse is shall we? because if you can't tell by my last headcanon I like to over explain things.

Touch aversion - is a feeling of intense discomfort or fear when someone attempts to touch you. It can be physical, such as when someone attempts to hug you, or it can be psychological, such as when someone attempts to shake hands with you. (taken from a article on overcoming touch aversion that I have laying around my room)

He is touch averse. He has intense discomfort and a fear/anger when someone attempts to touch him without his permission the best way is to always let him make the first moves and invite him to do so because oddly enough Alastor is big on consent when it comes to people touching him and not the other way around he will invade others personal space. So say if someone wants to shake his hand the way to this is to open your hand out to him and let him make that choice if want to or not . 9/10 times the man won't reciprocate the invitation of physical contact but it's worth trying. He will actively avoid it all together by as we seen in the most off-putting ways possible like snapping his neck in unnatural contortions, His main goal is to creep out whoever has tried to touch him so they won't do it again, he will also just straight up dematerialize to avoid things.

Yes this stems from his need to be in control but I also think it's trauma repose from his childhood with his father. Very little is know bout his backstory but I do lean toward the idea that his father was a abusive drunk who would lash out at Al and his mother now I think Alastor took on a role of trying to protect his mother from his father so in turned he took on a lot more of the abuse which lean to him having this deep rooted hate for forced physical contact he would get from his father but at the same time I think his mother was very lovely and that her love language was physical touch which is why I believe we see him more tolerable around women touching him a great examples of this is Rosie, Niffty and Mimzy. Don't get my wrong he still is uncomfortable with it but he knows these women well enough that they mean no harm to him and that they in turn know him well and what he is and isn't comfortable with.

Now Alastor has a lot of scars on his body. Being shot in the head and mauled by dogs will leave your skin and body gnarled and distorted. I've seen first hand injuries of people who have been injured by dogs that aren't pretty. Now scar tissue is made up from fibrous tissue that forms when normal tissue is destroyed and they can become very sensitivity if nerves have been damage like most of Alastor more than likely have been, which is why I do believe makes his skin extra sensitivity when touched but I think it feels worse for him when he is cold and that's why I think we see him in his coat so often because lower temperatures cause tissues to contract, putting pressure on nerves. As someone with a lot of scars I can say when I'm cold I can feel every damn one of my scars even that very visible ones and it fucking hurts. So think all that does play into his lack of wanting physical touch because it can cause him discomfort sometimes not all the time. 

My inspiration for most of these ideas comes from my own experiences and I hope it made sense and gives you again more insight on how I write Alatsor. <3