#yes I’m continuing this

[fruit-teeth]

A Letting Go (chapter 2: The Photos)

Once she’d arrived home, Flo wondered if she should call someone for advice. Would Spy answer if she called? Jeremy was likely busy, and she didn’t want to bother him with this, anyway. Dell probably would pick up — come to think of it, he might have some sort of answer. Or would he be about as stumped as she was right now?

Flo sat at her table, staring at the slice of pizza she wasn't hungry for, and concluded she didn't want to call anyone right now. None of this even felt real. What would she even say over the phone? That the Administrator was alive and at the women’s shelter with absolutely no rhyme or reason? It sounded so unbelievable.

In any case, she had to somehow convince the head of staff to let her take Helen with her. As of this particular moment, she was no one: no ID, no family, no home, nothing.

After forcing herself to eat something, Flo rummaged through her storage containers, hoping to find any old images of Helen. She ultimately did, discovering three: one from an old company photo and the other two from a file she had once meant to destroy.

As Flo arranged the pictures into a folder, her hands felt clammy in a way they hadn’t been in years. She paused for a moment, staring at the folder. Was she really about to do this? Was she about to let her…back into her life? This could possibly be the worst thing she could ever do.

She thought about the sight of Helen at the table earlier that day — she’d been unkempt, unclean, and frail. Not only that, but she hadn’t said a single word the whole time. Perhaps she was different…but how different? How much of it was a front? Flo couldn’t say, but she had a feeling she’d know as soon as she got alone with her.

After putting the folder in her bag so she would remember it, she went to her room with the hope of sleeping for a little while.

The following day, Flo marched straight to Regina’s office and placed the folder on her desk.

“I know her, and I have proof,” Flo breathed a nervous breath, watching Regina’s expression.

Regina raised a brow at her, but she accepted the folder. She opened it up and shuffled through the three photos for a moment, and soon, she glanced back up at Flo.

“It definitely looks like her,” she agreed. “Who is she in relation to you, exactly?”

Flo questioned whether she should tell the whole truth, but she gave the explanation she felt Regina would understand. “She was my boss at my previous job.”

“Hm. I see,” Regina closed the folder and set it down on the desk. “And you’re certain she has no family you can call?”

Flo shook her head. “None.”

Regina stared up at Flo for a moment, and she soon leaned back in her chair. “Miss Pauling,” she began. “It's kind that you want to take this woman in, but I must tell you that she has no known name, and no one knows where she comes from. We take these kinds of things very seriously here,”

“I know, ma’am,” Flo nodded, folding her hands together.

Regina went on. “If you wish to take her with you, she must go with you willingly. If not, you could get in serious trouble for kidnapping. Do you know how that would look? To have an employee from Lady of Mercy get charged with kidnapping a homeless woman?”

“It would look bad,” Flo answered, focusing on a pen on the desk.

After a brief pause, Regina sighed. “So…she’s in Room 28. If you can get her to go with you, do so. If she refuses to go, leave her. And remember: if anything goes awry, I will not be blamed.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Flo stood up, taking the folder back and putting it in her bag. “Should I go right now and get her?”

“If you wish, yes,” Regina muttered, going back to a stack of paperwork on the desk.

Flo headed to the residency rooms, seeking out Room 28. When she found it, she knocked a few times to announce her presence.

“Hey, are you decent?” She called out. There was no answer, but Flo entered anyway.

The individual rooms at the shelter were tiny, just enough room for a bed and a small desk. Flo had tried to talk to Regina about improving the state of the rooms, but nothing had really come of it.

Helen lay on the bed, facing the blank white wall. Flo took a deep breath, entering the room and closing the door behind her.

“Are you awake?” Flo asked, prompting the older woman to twist around to look at her. She looked as though she’d finally showered, as her skin appeared dewy, but her hair was still quite messy.

After confirming that Helen was awake, Flo approached the bed and pulled up the desk chair to sit beside her.

"Okay, you can drop the act," Flo said in a low voice, attempting to avoid the attention of anyone outside the room. “I know it’s you — I just need you to tell me…why are you here? How did you get here? How…why are you alive?”

Helen just stared blankly at her, that same vacant stare that had sent Flo into a panic the day prior. Flo wouldn’t be shaken, though.

“Please, for the love of God, say something!” Flo insisted. “I…I need you to tell me what you’re doing here! Do you want something? Do you have unfinished business? Do you…”

She trailed off, freezing up as Helen suddenly reached for her face. With unsteady fingers, the other woman carefully picked up a stray eyelash that had landed on Flo’s cheek.

Flo stared in confusion, watching as Helen examined the eyelash on the pad of her finger.

She finally said something: “Eyelash.”

Flo processed this scene for a long moment. She eventually turned around, reaching into her bag and pulling out her folder.

“Remember these?” She asked, showing Helen the photos. “Here, look, it’s you. Remember?”

Helen just stared at the photos, saying nothing. Flo puffed out a sigh, realizing what was happening.

“Amnesia,” she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to compose herself. “You’re back from the dead and you remember nothing. That’s…” she looked back up, blinking. “You…are you even the same person?”

Once again, Helen did not answer. She dropped the eyelash onto the floor and remarked softly, “Oh, no, it’s gone,”

Flo couldn’t speak for a moment, thoroughly confused. Perhaps she’d made a mistake and this was a random mentally ill woman who happened to resemble the Administrator. She opened the folder again, though, taking another look at the photos. There was no doubt about it: either it was Helen, or an eerie doppelganger. In any case, this woman had no one.

“Hey,” Flo spoke up, getting the woman’s attention. “How would you feel about coming home with me? I have an extra bedroom, it’s much bigger than this and you’d be much more comfortable. What do you say?”

Helen sat up slowly, messy hair falling into her face. Flo winced at the sight, reaching over to fix it for her. “Oh, dear— I can do your hair, too, you’d feel much better if your hair was nice and neat.”

A pause passed between them. After a second or two, Helen turned to look at Flo, and she smiled at her. It wasn’t a malicious or scheming smile in any way, it was…strangely innocent and good natured. Flo felt herself wanting to smile back, but she shook herself.

“Okay, come on,” Flo urged, helping Helen up off the bed. “Let’s get your things, and…” she glanced around the room, realizing she didn’t have any things. “Oh. Right — come on, I’ll take you to my car, we’ll go right home.”

At the same time, Engie had agreed to meet up at a coffee shop with Heavy and Medic for the first time in a while. The atmosphere was calm and casual, something they had all come to appreciate.

“My, it’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” Medic remarked, taking a generous sip of coffee from his mug.

Heavy agreed with a nod. “Da! This is such nice town, very beautiful,”

Dell laughed. “You two go a lot of places together, haven't you visited somewhere more interesting than this?”

Medic shrugged. “Well, every place has its interesting things to look at! I appreciate how unique it all is, truly,”

Dell nodded in understanding, fingers tapping against the coffee mug. He paused, his mind wandering momentarily, before he spoke again.

”I’m worried about Flo,” he said after a moment. “We talked yesterday. I said how everyone missed her, but she just says she’s busy.”

”Well, she works hard,” Medic pointed out. “She’s doing a great deal of good for the women at the shelter. She takes it very seriously!”

“I know,” Dell nodded. “But I’m just worried that she’s isolating or something…”

“Isolate?” Heavy repeated, taking a sip of coffee. “Why isolate?”

“Well, you know, she lives by herself. She lives away from most of us, she does her own thing. I don’t know. I don’t know if she’s ever gonna get married or have kids…I mean, she doesn’t have to do any of that if she doesn’t want to, but you know. I’m just…I’m just concerned about her,”

Heavy nodded in understanding. ”Yes, but she can take care of herself, and I tell her many times: if there is anything she needs, she can call us.”

“Yeah, but you know she won’t ask for anything outright,” Engie pointed out. “You know how she is. She does so much for us, she always has! And now she’s doing a lot for those women. She always thinks about other people, but I don’t know if she thinks about herself much these days…”

Medic frowned at that. “Does she still live around here?”

”Well, if you call over two hours away from here ‘around here’, then yeah,” Dell shrugged. “I mean, it’s part of the reason why I’m worried, like she doesn’t live too far from where we usually meet up, so I don’t. I don’t know what the issue is.”

Misha thought for a long moment. Finally, he decided, “We should pay her visit. We should see her, see how she is doing.”

“Really? Do you think that’s a good idea?” Engie asked.

“Of course it is!” Medic agreed. “Misha and I will drop by and see her, we’ll ask her if she needs anything. It’s quite the drive, but we can do it. We’ve driven further distances before, it’s not a problem!”

Heavy nodded. “Yes. We will see her, ask if she needs anything. We can make food for her, or whatever she needs.”

Engie sighed. “All right…I just hope she’s not offended.”

Medic tilted his head curiously. “Offended? Why would she be offended? I just want her to know that we’re looking out for her, because she’s looked out for us after all these years.”

Engie smiled. “That’s true. I think maybe she just needs little reminding that…y’know, she’s not alone. She’s never been alone.”

As morning began to fade into noon, Flo arrived home with Helen in tow. She had no idea what to expect: part of her worried that this was going to be a very dangerous, stupid decision. However, Helen was, like before, quiet. She hadn't said a word since they were in the shelter, and in the car, she had done nothing but stare out the window. In any case, Flo ushered Helen out of the car and inside the house once they arrived.

“Okay, here we are,” Flo announced, closing the door behind them. She gestured to the living room. “You can sit on the couch there, is that okay?”

Helen wandered into the living room, glancing around. She appeared thoughtful, as if soaking everything in, but then she noticed a framed picture on the end table.

Flo watched as Helen picked up the framed, group photo of the former mercs and stared at it silently. An agonizing few seconds of quiet passed before Flo spoke again, “Do you remember them?”

Helen put the photo back down and slipped up onto the couch, tucking her legs beneath her like a cat. Flo tried not to let out a frustrated sigh; she now knew Helen could talk, which made the absence of words all the more aggravating.

Still, she tried her best to remain composed. “I’ll get you something to eat — um…I don’t remember what foods you like, sorry. You’ll eat toast, won’t you?”

Helen made a sound that seemed like an, ‘uh-huh’, but Flo couldn’t determine if that was what she said. Still, Flo grabbed the remote control and switched the TV on, flipping to an old cowboy program that was on.

“All right, be right back,” Flo assured, heading for the kitchen and leaving Helen alone in the living room.

Once she’d put a piece of plain bread in the toaster, Flo leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment to wait. Her eyes landed on the phone, and a sudden thought crossed her mind.

Flo dialed the local library's number and practiced her response in her mind as the librarian answered. “Grand Oak Library, how can I assist you?”

Flo took a deep breath. “Hi, do you have any books with information on…um…people coming back from the dead?”

“Oh, do you mean books about paranormal experiences?” The librarian asked. “Yeah, we got a few of those. Which kind are you looking for?”

"Well…" Flo strained to explain, "I'm really searching for one about…not exactly about ghosts, I don't believe. Picture this: someone dying and then returning to life years later with no memories. Is that something you have a book on?”

The librarian paused for a long moment. Finally, she asked, “What is this for, exactly?”

“Research project,” Flo answered. “About, uh…experiences.”

“Hm…” the librarian considered this. “Well, I can’t think of any specific books about that, but if you want to come look later at what we have, you can.”

Flo pondered this, and then nodded, despite the fact that the librarian couldn’t see her doing so. “Okay…will do. Thank you.”

As Flo hung up, she tried to mentally map out when she had time to get to the library later. This was unlikely to be a simple topic to research, so she knew she needed to budget for the amount of time it would take to uncover something useful.

The toast popped up, yanking Flo out of her thoughts. The truth of the situation began to sink in even more when she took out the toast, placed it on a plate, and began to spread butter on it.

I’m making toast for my dead boss, she thought to herself. The hand holding the butter knife trembled slightly, but she simply rinsed it and placed it in the sink.

[raining-its-pouring]

Solace.

[catcherwrites]

For the record, you can pry my “Sarai used to be in the Crownguard before she married Harrow” headcanon from my cold, dead hands

Amaya trained the Standing Battalion and Sarai trained the Crownguard, and their ability to work together is why Katolis had the strongest fighting force in the Pentarchy

You can also pry “Sarai and Soren were insanely close before her death” from my cold, dead hands. Maybe not even then, because I’m gripping this idea tightly, even in death

Sarai helped Soren and his family manage his illness because of her experience with Damian. And Soren was just so excited that the Head Crownguard was hanging out with him! Even when he was at his worst, he’d always perk up if he could see Sarai train the soldiers from his bedroom window, or regale him with stories of legendary battles at his bedside

After Soren got better and Sarai left the Crownguard to become Princess of Katolis, she offered to show him the basics of swordplay and strategy to help Soren with all of his pent-up energy. Even though he wouldn’t be interested in poetry until years later, Soren was introduced to the concept through Sarai, who’d recite some of Damian’s old work for him during their time together. Sarai had essentially become one of Soren’s constants after his family fell apart with Lissa leaving, Viren growing cold, and Claudia throwing herself into magic

At least until she died, heroically saving his dad

[gatoburr0]

Oh no he’s fuzzy

[chamerionwrites]

Also it brings me zero pleasure to be Cassandra here, but “mass deportation” is a synonym for murder. I need you all to understand this. Even in the absolute best case scenario, it means large numbers of people being warehoused in slapdash facilities where illness spreads quickly and medical care is inadequate. It means government contractors providing food, trying to make a killing, and inevitably cutting corners on costs/quality/safety. It means police violence against people being rounded up. It means US citizen children being removed from their families or deported with them. It means people being returned to countries they fled in fear of their lives, and killed by domestic abusers/gangs/governments. It means bureaucratic mixups (/apathy/malice) that result in people getting dropped off in dangerous cities that they’ve never even visited late at night.

It means all of this and more, and if the government comes for your neighbors you should respond as if you are witnessing an attempted murder.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 199

“Where the fuck are my legs?” 

Danny wasn’t happy. It wasn’t funny! Usually he just had a ghost tail when flying really fast, like super speed, not all the time! It’s not funny Clockwork, you’re used to having a tail, he isn’t! 

What do you mean it’s permanent?! He needs his legs! Clockwork!! He wouldn’t have agreed to the adoption if he knew he’d lose his legs! 

…Okay, that was a lie, Clockwork was a great parent who encouraged his chaos and enjoyed screwing over assholes like the Observants. But still! He looks like some sort of snake person now! No he doesn’t want a nap, he’s not a baby! 

Clockwork, why are you being quiet? He’s not a baby! He’s not a baby, right? What do you mean all ghosts are babies until they’re a hundred years dead!? But he’s a halfa- what do you mean it takes longer for Ancients?! 

No he doesn’t want that nap, he’s having a midlife crisis here several years too early! 

[aliensfuckmeup]

DROPS THIS ON THE TABLE AND COLLAPSES DEAD ON THE GROUND.

Illustration for chapter 10 of In Blood And Stars by @actingwithportals.

[housederiva]

I’ve never interacted with something as clean yet unpolished as Veilguard and the dichotomy of that is is boo-boo bananas to me

It really does feel like you’ve walked past a stunning painting but then you stop moving to stare at it and realize it’s just a print with textured glaze on top

[peachyhoolagan]

One day you’ll sit in the sun and things won’t feel so bad

[rhymeswithumbrella]

you know what really pisses me off? so many people acting like he is the worst person out there and no one will miss him. A LOT of people are grieving now and missing him including people that these people supposedly follow and care about. liam was not the supervillain people wanted him to be. he was messed up and did messed up things likely because of what happened to him. this conversation deserves so much more nuance than people are giving it. and maybe it’s too early to have this conversation now but it’s helping me process and grieve so i’m really writing this for me. people are complex and doing bad things doesn’t make you a bad person or someone worthy of death without being given the chance to make things right. and another thing, it is SO hypocritical to make fun of him and look down on him like he’s the ultimate Bad Guy meanwhile i bet every single person you have ever admired in the spotlight has likely also done bad things or at least things you wouldn’t be proud of. fame is an illness and it can cause people to harm others because they were hurt themselves. human beings are a culmination of everything that they’ve been through and everything they’ve done. he is not only the bad things he’s done and it’s okay and normal to grieve him as a whole person, because he was one.

[thranduel]

astarion, the man who was dying and offered eternal life, but had no idea that it meant becoming a slave to a sadistic master.

astarion, the man who had his freedom and bodily autonomy ripped away from him.

astarion, the man who was forced to befriend, seduce and sleep with people to lure them back to his master, resulting in severe sexual trauma and the struggle to form any sort of intimate relationship.

astarion, the man who was horribly punished whenever he refused his master’s orders (one punishment being sealed away in a dusty tomb, starving, for an entire year. he scratched his hands raw trying to carve his way out).

astarion, the man who was forced to eat rats.

astarion, the man who hasn’t even been able to see his own face since he turned.

astarion, the man who had his body mutilated as cazador carved scars onto his back, which he later found out was to bind him to a ritual.

astarion, the man who is so severely traumatised that he admitted he doesn’t know how to say “no” or ask for help (and he feels guilty when he does).

astarion, the man who waited two centuries to be helped and freed from torture, but no one came.

astarion, the man who was always treated like a monster when all he wanted was to be treated like a person.

astarion, the man who came up to you in the middle of the night just to thank you for defending him and allowing him to make his own decisions.

astarion, the man who said that no one ever looked out for him or showed him kindness, and that you’re the only one. “other people don’t have a heart like you. you’re you. no one is like that.”

astarion, the man who broke the cycle of power and terror that started centuries ago thanks to the love, care and compassion that you showed him when no one else did.

astarion, the man who confessed that he loves you and feels safe with you; something he has never felt with anyone before.

[spooksicl-e]

but first, watson, we smoke.

no, we don’t.

yes, we do.

we don’t.

we must.

[spirited-splashes]

Sea otter

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: death mention / ]

Y’know something I really like from the movie is how close Future Leo and Casey Jr are presented as being, even if not shown often or super obviously.

Like beyond Junior’s blatant idolization of “the world’s greatest ninja”, I want to highlight the beginning of the movie, with Junior trying so desperately to save Future Leo, Leo reassuring Junior despite his own acceptance of death, and, especially, I want to highlight the “have a slice” line.

Because…this is a line given to a kid raised in war. A line given at the tail end of what quite possibly is the most important task the resistance has ever undertaken. A line whose importance lies solely in the sentimental value of a child finally getting to experience something entirely good, and Leo knowing Junior will succeed to experience it because he believes in him.

I dunno, I think a lot of Future Leo giving Casey Jr the thing Leo himself always longed for: trust.

[primal-con]

I’m blaming you for my inevitable Jazzwave brainrot just fyi

Yes!!! My evil plan is working >:DDD

Jazzwave be upon ye!

[emeraldotter]

doodles