#also stubbornly not getting heals is both Not Good but also Really Good

[mymarifae]

every time someone says "an should have been vbs's leader" or "saki should have been leo/need's leader" i want to . slam my head through concrete. oh you missed the point so bad

1. the "leader" thing is kind of really fucking insignificant outside of where each group's story begins and promo materials. it doesn't mean one character is the "main character" of the group. project sekai doesn't HAVE a main character in the first place it's not that kind of story. each individual character is equally important to not only their group's story but the over-arching story of the whole game

2. leo/need's story begins with ichika because she is ultimately the one that brings them all back together. not saki. it is ichika's determination and frankly stubbornness that gets through to shiho and honami. like, saki was literally ready to give up on reconnecting with honami! (out of love and respect for her choices but like) if she was the focus leo/need would have been honami-less!! but ichika refuses to let it go. much like she refused to let go of their friendships throughout all of middle school.

when the story begins, we see ichika burnt out and hopeless. but that's only after years of trying and trying and trying and trying again to reconnect with shiho and later honami. this fandom does not understand ichika's character well . she's not meek and she doesn't back down easily she's not some like... fumbling "girlflop" she's incredibly driven and strong-willed. she lost some of that due to depression and isolation but as of leo/need's most recent arc ender she has pretty much regained her fiery spirit. she's leo/need's lead singer and MC for a reason

3. vivid bad squad's story opens with kohane because she's the only one who hasn't grown up/partially grown up on vivid street. if an or akito had been the "leader" we would have lost the magic of getting to know vivid street and its people and unique culture. it's all average every day life for them, but kohane is experiencing it all for the first time. it's only through her eyes that the audience can understand just how very special vivid street is

4. one more thing: you could say that the "leaders" represent the themes of each group and the general direction of their story arcs. vivid bad squad, among several other things, is all about improvement and growth and overcoming challenges and creating something new and finding a place to call home within a community. who better to represent that but the socially anxious newbie who never felt like she belongs anywhere and would never do anything with her life?

leo/need is about love and the ability to endure all hardships and preserve that love . it's about having a heart big enough to hope for the impossible and the willpower to make it reality. ichika, in all her hard-headed stubborn painfully persistent glory, is perfect for that.

similarly, mafuyu isn't nightcord's leader because nightcord is ultimately about healing. hope. finding a way to make life worth living again. these aren't paths he would have chosen on his own. he gave up on himself a long time ago. as did ena and mizuki, in their own ways. the best person to represent hope is the one who refuses to give up on anyone and stubbornly believes she can save them all

wonderlands x showtime is about moving forward to a brighter future and not letting the past keep you shackled in place. it's also about having lofty dreams and the selfishness to pursue those dreams. both of these things are why emu Isn't wxs's leader; she lacks that selfishness (i'm not using this word in a negative sense btw; i think being selfish can be a good thing. and sometimes being selfless is a bad one) tsukasa (and rui) has, and she often clings to the past.

and as far as more more jump and all their own themes of hope and never giving up go, of course their leader has to be minori. she brought three disillusioned, jaded ex-idols hope and reignited their passion! she's the walking embodiment of hope itself

#i'm going to chew on rocks #project sekai #yeah sure main tag thiswhy not

[libraryofgage]

SpiderPool Steddie Part One

So, this is definitely gonna have multiple parts lmao

It's been bouncing around my brain for a while like the Addams Family Steddie AU lol

Anyway, lemme know if you'd like to be tagged for future parts ^_^

----

Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls is, at best, a dive bar. At worst, it's a cesspit in which the scummiest people in the city gather to bask in each other's scumminess. To Steve, however, it's the perfect place to collapse after a long patrol, splayed out like a starfish on the roof as the music playing inside vibrates the building itself.

Steve takes a deep breath, setting his bat down next to him before pushing his mask to the bridge of his nose. He then lies down on the roof, wishing not for the first time that the city's light pollution wasn't so bad. Seeing the stars and hunting for constellations would really help him ignore the cracked ribs screaming inside his chest and threatening to break if he even breathes wrong.

All things considered, though, it could be worse. Steve doesn't have any morning classes, Vecna didn't beat him up nearly as bad as he usually does during their fight earlier, and his accelerated healing means Steve will be able to breathe normally by morning. Robin would tell him he has a very low bar when it comes to judging how shitty his life currently is, but she isn't here, so her opinion doesn't matter. Dustin would tell him he should try not getting his ass whooped in the future. Thankfully, he also isn't here, making his opinion as meaningful as Robin's.

Steve closes his eyes, letting his shoulders relax and trying not to think about anything. It sort of works until his entire body suddenly tenses, every nerve on edge and goosebumps shooting across his arms. He shoots up, ignoring the harsh twinge in his ribs as he turns in a crouch and grabs his bat. Steve clenches his jaw, breathing harshly through his nose to keep from groaning in pain, and feels relieved he didn't completely remove his mask completely.

Over by the door leading to a staircase is a guy with ripped jeans, a worn-out shirt with "HELLFIRE CLUB" across the chest, a jean vest covered in patches and pins, and hair pulled back out of his face with a few wavy strands stubbornly escaping his hair tie. He's breathing a little heavily, his face flushed like he's just climbed a few flights of stairs. Actually, he probably has.

"Woah," the guy says, his voice soft enough that Steve would have missed it if not for the enhanced hearing. The guy clears his throat and holds up both hands, showing off a bottle of Jack Daniels in one and a bag with a grease-stained bottom in the other. "Uh, I come in peace. I didn't realize the rooftop was taken."

Steve has no clue what possesses him, but he forces himself to relax and set the bat down. "No, it's okay. I can head out," he says, staying seated despite his words. He's really hoping the guy will insist he doesn't need to; his ribs are still aching like a bitch.

Thankfully, the guy flashes a grin and slowly lowers his hands. "Nah, you're all good. Not every day I get to eat next to a hero. Want some fries?" he asks, walking over and sitting a good two feet away so there's plenty of room between them.

He tears open the bag to create an impromptu plate and puts it between them, the smell of greasy and undoubtedly delicious fries tempting enough that Steve picks up a smaller one and pops it into his mouth. "Thanks. Where are these from?" Steve asks, glancing over as the guy twists the cap of his bottle and takes a swig.

"A burger joint two streets down and one street over. On the corner."

Steve nods, making a mental note of the directions so he can get a burger before swinging home. He's got just enough in his pocket to afford one. "So, got a name?" Steve asks, figuring he's already eating the guy's fries and they're about to spend some time together on this roof. He should know the guy's name.

The guy's grin returns, and he sets the bottle down between them as well. It's tempting, but Steve doesn't trust his alcohol tolerance to hold up while his body is busy fixing his ribs. "Eddie. Do I get to know your name, too?"

Steve snorts and leans away slightly, putting a bit more distance between Eddie and his entirely too-grabbable mask. "Nice try," he says.

"Worth a shot," Eddie says, shrugging as he picks up a few fries. "So, Spider-Man, what brings you to Sister Margaret's? You enjoy the gay metal scene?"

"What's the difference between gay and regular metal?"

"Our hair is better," Eddie explains, dramatically flipping the few strands of hair escaping his tie.

Steve has to hold back a second snort, taking another fry and chewing on it before saying, "I like resting here after patrol. The whole building shakes with the music."

Eddie lights up, his eyes brightening and his back straightening some. "So, you're a fan of Corroded Coffin," he says, taking another swig of the Jack Daniels. It's only now that Steve realizes it's already a quarter of the way gone, and he wonders if Eddie's liver can handle that much alcohol all at once.

"Is that the name of the band?"

"Yep. They play here almost every night."

"I'm guessing you like them, too, then?"

Eddie hums, amusement dancing across his expression now, giving Steve the distinct feeling that there's some secret he simply isn't in on. "They're the best band I've ever heard. Their music is incredible. They really push the boundaries of the genre. And their lyrics? Amazingly layered with at least three meanings per line. I highly recommend actually coming in for a listen one of these days," Eddie says, leaning a little closer to Steve.

A beat of silence passes in which Steve holds Eddie's gaze. Or, he holds the gaze on his end; he's sure Eddie can't actually tell with the mask covering his eyes. "You're in the band," Steve says.

"Lead guitarist and singer, yes. I also write the songs."

"You're incredibly critical of yourself, really grounded in reality."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "I just happen to know my worth incredibly well."

"You have all the confidence of a mediocre white man on a job hunt."

Eddie gasps, placing a hand on his chest as he looks at Steve. "How dare you call me mediocre. I am revolutionary at worst and the second coming at best."

"You know the second coming involves, like, an apocalypse or something, right?"

"I'm Jewish, why would I bother with the fine details?" Well, Steve will give him that. "By the way," Eddie says, gesturing to Steve's bat as he continues, "do those nails actually see any use? Or are they just there to act as a threat?"

Steve looks down at his bat, considering it for a moment before carefully holding the middle and offering the handle to Eddie. Now that he's giving them a few moments of attention, he's realizing the nails embedded in the end are a little rusty and definitely need cleaning. "I try not to be deadly with it, but Vecna's got these lab-grown demon dogs and bats that always manage to break through my webs," Steve explains.

He watches as Eddie takes the bat, weighing it in his hands before shoving his palm into the nails. Steve jerks, a wordless shout escaping his throat as he launches himself over the fries and in front of Eddie. "Are you okay?!" he asks, grabbing Eddie's hand and shakily inspecting the nails sticking through it. Fuck, those are going to be a bitch to get out, and he'll probably have to swing Eddie to the hospital for a tetanus shot.

Being angry doesn't even register in his brain as Eddie laughs. "Don't worry about it, Spidey," he says, pulling his hand off the nails with a slight wince. He wiggles his fingers, letting Steve have a front-row seat to the injuries closing. "See, good as new."

And he's right. The injuries are good as new. In fact, there isn't even any scarring, and Steve almost rips his mask off to take a closer look but stops himself at the last minute. Instead, he grabs Eddie's hand and yanks it closer, turning it over to check his palm, too. "What the fuck?" he asks, looking up at Eddie, still gripping his hand tight.

"Super healing," Eddie explains. "Like, super duper. If I ever get decapitated, just hold my head to my neck, and I'll be right as rain."

"I'd rather not put that claim to the test," Steve says, frowning slightly as he runs his fingers over Eddie's palms, just to make sure the injuries aren't somehow hidden from sight.

"You know, I kissed the last guy who touched my palm like that," Eddie says, leaning in again with that grin.

Suddenly all Steve can think about is how Eddie's lips do look soft. And it has been a while since Steve actually kissed anyone. And he does think Eddie is funny. And he does find himself wondering if his smile will taste like the Jack Daniels and fries. And...and...

And Steve needs to go before he does anything he shouldn't be doing as Spider-Man.

He jerks back, dropping Eddie's hand like it burns, and ignores the ache in his ribs as he grabs his bat and stands. "I, uh, I need to get going. Thanks for the fries, Eddie," he says, hurrying over to the edge of the roof.

"Woah, just gonna eat and run on me, big boy?" Eddie asks, scrambling to his feet and over to where Steve is climbing onto the edge of the roof. "That's not very hero-like of you. You haven't even left me your name or number. How are you gonna pay me back $2.50 for the fries?"

"I had five," Steve says, turning to look at Eddie as he webs his bat to his back and pulls his mask down over his chin.

"The economy sucks, man."

Okay, he's got Steve there. Again. "Nice try, Eddie."

"Can you blame a guy? Your ass looks great in that spandex."

Steve is suddenly relieved his mask is back down, covering the furious blush spreading across his cheeks. He'd think it was just a joke, but the sincere and somewhat goofy smile tugging at Eddie's lips tells him it's more genuine than anything else. "Thanks," Steve says, giving Eddie a two-finger salute before taking a step back off the roof.

He shoots a web at the edge of the building, using the momentum to swing around the corner. His ribs are killing him with the movement, but he still manages to throw a, "See you later, Eds!" over his shoulder before he's completely out of earshot.

Later, Steve will wonder how Eddie got his super healing, if he's that flirtatious with every guy he meets on the roof of Sister Margaret's, and if he'll be there the next time Steve swings by. But that's for later. For now, he's just enjoying the breeze rushing over him and thinking about Eddie's eyes and his smile and his long fingers.

#Steddie #Spiderpool Steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #spiderman steve harrington #deadpool eddie munson #it'll make sense i promise #also Eddie goes back into the bar and immediately starts bragging about flirting with spider-man #everyone immediately knows he's about to become Annoying (TM) #and resign themselves to their fate #Robin does the exact same when Steve gets home and tells her about Eddie #RIP everyone who has to live with these two gushing about each other

[solarmorrigan]

May I request a thrupple for the angst quote prompt?

“Please I just… really need space right now.”

With ChissyxStevexEddie. If not the thrupple then a pair of your choice from those three characters.

Hello! I'm sorry, I didn't quite manage to work Chrissy into this one. Honestly, this particular fill argued with me so much I'm kind of glad I even got Eddie and Steve in there. I hope this is okay, anyway!

[post-S3 Steddie AU; CW: Deals with the aftermath of torture, heavily discusses non-consensual touching (not inherently sexual, not between Eddie and Steve), contains the theme of trying to help someone through trauma. This is very soft, though, I promise]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

The Steve Harrington who comes home to Eddie from the hospital on the fifth of July is not the same one who had kissed him goodbye before his shift at that shitty ice cream parlor two days prior.

He’s still Eddie’s Steve, of course he is, but he’s also – he’s withdrawn, and he’s jumpy, and he’s so, so hurt.

Eddie had seen the aftermath of that fight with Hargrove (who hadn’t? Though Eddie had even had the privilege of watching the last of the bruises fade from up close as he and Steve became friends), but this is worse. Eddie can’t articulate how at first, but it is.

At least back in November, Steve had been able to talk about how he’d gotten his injuries; this time, he has to hide behind some fucked up cover story – because bull-fucking-shit had he gotten hurt by falling debris in a freak mall fire.

Debris hadn’t left marks like fucking boot prints on Steve’s back and chest. It hadn’t bruised and rubbed his wrists red and raw. It hadn’t left the distinct shape of fingers in purple and blue, wrapped around his arms on both sides.

Eddie had tried exactly once to address this, when he’d first seen the extent of the damage hidden under Steve’s shirt. He’d tried to demand answers, tried to get out of Steve who had laid their fucking hands on him, but Steve had gone grey under his bruises and shook his head.

“It was a fire, Eddie. Nothing else. I need you to understand that,” Steve had said, more serious than Eddie had ever heard him, his one good eye wide with urgent anxiety – with something almost like fear. “It was just a fire.”

Eddie hasn’t brought it up again.

It makes him burn to know that someone had done this to Steve and that he can’t do a goddamn thing about it. It makes him want to scream, it makes him want to find whoever had been responsible and make them hurt, but more than anything–

More than anything, it terrifies him.

Because this Steve is different – his Steve is different now, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

It scares him to see Steve slinking around the trailer like it isn’t his home (more of a home than his parents’ house has ever been). It scares him when he forgets that Steve’s left is his bad side and that if he comes up on him too fast, he’ll startle the shit out of him. It scares him that Steve has a bad side. It scares him when he reaches for him, unthinkingly going for the contact that Steve has always been so hungry for, has been so comforted by in the past, and instead Steve flinches away.

Eddie has never really had to take care of someone else, and he feels like he’s fucking it up at every turn. He feels like he’s hurting Steve even more, that he’s no better than whoever did this to him, no better than Billy fucking Hargrove, no better than Steve’s parents; he’s afraid he’s going to ruin things, break Steve beyond repair, because he doesn’t know how to care for this new version of him.

The only thing that gives him hope that he isn’t doing too badly is the fact that Steve is staying. He still wants to be in Eddie’s company, still reaches out sometimes and tentatively slides his hand over Eddie’s while they’re watching TV together, still shares Eddie’s bed at night. He’s been stubbornly insisting that he’s fine, he’s fine, he just needs time to heal, but beyond a refusal to admit that anything is wrong, he still trusts Eddie to help when he’s not at his best.

Of course, no matter what he says, Steve isn’t actually fine, and even if that weren’t made apparent just by looking at him, it becomes abundantly clear when the lights go out and they lie down to sleep – when the nightmares hit.

Sometimes, they’re small things: quickened breath and inaudible murmuring, furrowed brows that eventually smooth out as Steve is released back into deeper, more peaceful sleep.

Sometimes, though, they’re loud and sharp and violent.

Sometimes, like tonight.

Steve is half twisted in the sheets, struggling in a way his broken ribs really can’t afford, arms flailing and jerking as he tries to fight something off, as he mutters no and stop and please. Eddie sort of wants to cry, thinking about what could be making Steve beg, but more than anything he wants to wake Steve up.

He shakes him by the shoulder, dodging the jerk of his arm, and hopes he can call louder than whatever’s going on in Steve’s head.

“Steve. Steve, c’mon, wake up,” Eddie shakes Steve again and Steve jerks away with a wounded noise. “It’s just a nightmare, baby, come on. Steve!”

Steve’s eyes snap open with a sharp gasp, like he’s been holding his breath, but his gaze is still hazy. He’s awake, but he isn’t present, and he immediately starts shoving at Eddie’s hands, trying to scoot away on the bed.

“No, no, get off– get off me!” he shouts, managing to make it as far as the edge of the bed before the tangle of the sheets holds him in place.

“Steve it’s– it’s just me, it’s Eddie, it was a nightmare, you’re–” as reassuring as Eddie is trying to be, he can’t help the distressed crack in his voice. “Baby, you’re safe, I fucking swear.”

Finally, Steve stops struggling. He lies against the mattress for a moment, breathing heavily, before he ventures a small, “Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m right here,” Eddie promises.

He shuffles closer on his knees, reaching out for Steve, hoping to comfort or soothe or ground or something, but Steve flinches away, tossing up an arm to halt Eddie in his tracks with a quickly barked, “No.”

“Steve,” Eddie breathes out, and he doesn’t mean to sound so fucking broken, but he should be the one person Steve is never afraid of, and he’s fucking that up.

“I… Please, I just…” Steve stutters out, still catching his breath, trying to sit himself up against the wall that the head of the bed is pressed to, “…really need space right now. Just– just leave me alone for a while.”

And all at once, even if Eddie knows nothing else, he knows that isn’t right.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now, sweetheart.”

Steve, now propped up against the wall, lets his head hang with a heavy sigh. “Eddie…”

“No, look, I’m not–” Eddie scrambles off the bed and moves across the small room, until he’s got his back to the opposite wall. “I’m not gonna touch you, I’ll stay over here, you don’t even have to look at me, but I’m not going to leave you by yourself.”

Steve had never wanted to be left alone when things were bad before. When he was alone, his anxiety would consume him; without the anchor of another person, it would carry him away, and Eddie is certain the same thing will happen now if he leaves Steve to deal with the aftermath of his nightmare in solitude.

For a long moment, Steve stares at him, eyes wide and wet with unshed tears in the low light of the bedroom, but he eventually looks away again. He says nothing, just curling in on himself in a way that must be hell on his ribs as he leans back against the wall, and Eddie takes that as the best permission he’s going to get.

He slides down the wall and sits on the floor, his knees pulled up in front of him in a loose mirror of Steve’s position. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak, but he’s there, and he has to believe that’s worth something.

It startles him when, some thirty minutes in (probably the longest Eddie’s ever been able to sit in silence without something to occupy him), Steve speaks.

“I can still feel their hands on me.”

His voice is a quiet rasp, but the words hit Eddie like hailstones. He wants to ask who, he wants to demand what, but he knows if he says anything now, Steve will clam up, so Eddie keeps his mouth shut, and he waits.

“Even before they– before they started hitting me.” Steve isn’t looking at Eddie, instead addressing the wall, gaze distant and unblinking. “They grabbed me and… searched me, cuffed me, they kept – putting their hands on my face, grabbing my hair, and I couldn’t…”

Couldn’t stop them.

Eddie feels a little sick.

Steve is quiet for so long after that that Eddie begins to wonder if he should say something, but Steve breaks the silence before he has to figure out what.

“Out of everything, I don’t know why that… why that left the biggest impression, but I–” he breaks off, turning and finally looking at Eddie. “I want to feel you again, but any time someone touches me, I can only see them.”

Eddie doesn’t think he’s going to survive this. His heart is going to fucking break.

He needs to do something, he needs to help, and maybe he has no clue what he’s doing, but this is his Steve, and he has to try.

Slowly, Eddie levers himself up off the floor and moves towards the door, where he hits the switch for the overhead lights, making the entire room go bright.

Steve winces at the sudden change, turning a wary look on Eddie as he approaches the bed.

“Eddie, what…”

“Just– just trust me. Let me try,” Eddie says, soft and earnest, holding Steve’s gaze as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Please?”

It takes a long moment, but Steve gives a hesitant nod, and Eddie scoots closer. He leaves space between them, still, but he gets close enough that he could reach out and take Steve’s hands – which is exactly what he intends to do.

“Look at me,” Eddie says, quiet and firm. “Just look at me, nowhere else.”

Steve does as he’s told, and Eddie manages a smirk.

“Just pretend I’m the most interesting thing in the room,” he tries to tease. “Like there’s nothing else you’d ever wanna look at.”

“Don’t have to pretend,” Steve murmurs, eyes locked on Eddie’s face, and Eddie’s smile melts into something more genuine.

“There you are,” he says softly.

He reaches for Steve’s hands, and slowly, Steve unwraps them from where he’s been clutching firm around his legs, and lets Eddie touch him.

His hands are cold in spite of the summer heat that invades the trailer no matter how hard their crappy little air conditioner works, and they’re trembling slightly, but Steve doesn’t pull back. He stares right at Eddie and holds on.

Eddie brings one hand up, cradled in his own, and presses a gentle kiss to the knuckles. The bruises there have already faded (their presence had been the least distressing out of all the damage; Eddie likes knowing that Steve had at least gotten a few hits in), but he attends carefully to each knuckle, anyway. He kisses the back of Steve’s hand, feeling a little like a courtly lord from one of his own campaigns. Steve is starting to look at him like he might be one.

The bruises around Steve’s wrists are taking longer to heal; the damage is deeper, and the colors still paint livid rainbow circles on his skin (his face is going to take longer, still; Steve says the doctor told him he’d lucked out with a minor fracture to his orbital bone that will heal on its own with time. Eddie looks at the discoloration there and feels like he has some choice words for the doctor). Eddie moves his attention up, brushing his lips featherlight across the top of Steve’s wrist before turning his hand over and paying the same devotion to the underside.

“Eddie…” Steve breathes, and Eddie presses one last kiss to the palm of Steve’s hand.

“It’s me,” Eddie promises, bringing Steve’s other hand up now. “Watch me, sweetheart, it’s just me.”

He keeps eye contact as he lavishes Steve’s left hand with the same attention he’d given the right, and it occurs to him that he’s been inside the boy in front of him, but this is somehow the most intimate thing they’ve ever done.

Eddie doesn’t move beyond Steve’s wrists, doesn’t push any more than he already has, and Steve’s eyes are still on him by the time he finishes, wide and soft and glassy.

“Okay?” Eddie asks softly, dropping his hands to hold both of Steve’s in his lap.

Slowly, Steve nods. He looks away at last, turning his eyes to their joined hands, and tightens his fingers until he’s holding onto Eddie properly.

They sit like that for a long time, quiet and close, until Eddie can feel himself flagging and he can see Steve’s eyelids drooping.

“Let’s try to get some more sleep,” Eddie says around a stifled yawn. “You do need your beauty rest, after all.”

Steve laughs, a little huff of a thing, and casts a quick glance up at Eddie. “Can– can we leave the light on?” He rushes the words out, like he hates to even ask, but Eddie only nods.

“Whatever you need, Steve,” he promises – and he means it.

Maybe he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing, but he’s not going anywhere until he figures it out.

And when Steve settles down beside him in bed, and scooches just close enough that their arms are pressed together, Eddie figures maybe he’s not doing too badly, after all.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddiesteve #stranger things #solar wrote #answers from solar #anonymous

[attonposting]

So KotOR II, when you train your companions into Jedi, I think most of us immediately give our Force Friend Squad healing and lightning and whatever else is gonna make combat go quickest. But looking at them as people, what powers would they actually have an affinity for? What's natural for them to learn and use?

Atton cannot heal to save his life – and it would, given his tendency to get himself into trouble. However, what he does have a knack for is Revitalize, channeling his ability to hang in there and keep fighting no matter what. He's also got a nasty predisposition towards a couple of dark side powers, especially Force Choke. At first Atton is pretty irreverent about how he uses the Force – a blaster bolt or an exploded guy, dead is dead, so what's the difference? - but the issue is that, as before, he likes it. And he doesn't want to feel that anymore. Atton would also be quite good at mind tricks, being both a duplicitous asshole and an ex-assassin with specialized training on how mental domination works, but it's a moot point because he stubbornly refuses to learn them.

Bao-Dur's first foray into the Force involves learning to manipulate the currents in droids – they're the easiest energies for him to connect to, and disabling or overloading machinery from afar comes naturally. What also comes naturally, unfortunately, is Force Scream, especially when they land on Dxun and all his old war wounds are torn open. Canderous joining the crew was not a good time for him, and honestly, when Bao-Dur talks about how he feels calmer in the Exile's presence? I think it makes a lot of difference whether this chat happens before or after Dxun. Bao-Dur's a whirlpool beneath a calm surface, so psychic blasting people with repressed anger and pain hits pretty right from where I'm standing. He has to work a little harder to learn Force healing, but channeling his energy into reconstruction is something he eventually strikes a deep, quiet connection with.

Mira was the hardest for me to peg, at least with the game's power roster. We already know what she's best at through the Force – a strange combination of hunter's instinct and empathy, where she can find people by understanding how they think and what they need. There's no power equivalent to that, though. What I do think she'd excel at is Stun and Stasis. It's part because she always strives to disable people without killing them, and part because that's kind of her whole aesthetic (or at least that's what the design team would like us to believe, smh) – appearing nonthreatening and then taking you down before you ever realized you were in danger. A non-Dark-Side Mira would have a lot of trouble with blatantly lethal powers like Force Lightning and Force Choke, and if she doesn't, that's allll on the Exile's freaky influence warp.

Brianna is a master of combat buffs – at first mastering her own body, and then channeling that near-preternatural surefootedness to her allies. Master Speed, Force Valor, deflecting blaster bolts with her bare hands, it's all in her wheelhouse. Can totally see her in the middle of a pitched fight tossing people around with Force Wave, literally leaping across a battlefield with lightsabers flashing and landing with a shockwave that throws a dozen men back. Girl could go very anime if she wanted. Let's face it, she's earned it.

Mical is absolutely a healer. Guy already had medical training, and more importantly, he is friend-shaped. It's not something that companions can learn or use in-game, but I think that persuasion would also be in his wheelhouse – not for the sake of domination, but out of a sincere desire to seek better solutions where tempers, greed, and pride otherwise rule. Like, c'mon, he becomes a senator in some of his endings – now imagine that, but not completely disillusioned with the galaxy. He could cut you down, but he'd really rather you go home and rethink your life choices. I think there's strong grounds for him getting Force Enlightenment down the road, which is another exclusive-to-PC power that's beyond the scope of many Masters. Mical has about the most complete view of the Jedi Order anyone could aspire to, understanding without excusing its flaws and the easy pitfalls the Code can lead to while still truly believing in the good it can do for the galaxy.

Visas joins the party pre-equipped with a bunch of Dark Side powers, which makes me weep. Like, Force Horror? She's projecting the overwhelming trauma of Katarr. Choke and Lightning? You know Nihilus used them on her liberally. It's awful. But I'd like to think that on a Light Side run, as she grows into her own, she develops different affinities. I get support vibes again, but for Visas, it's about endurance, and sharing what she's gained with those who helped lift her up – Force Barrier and Energy Resistance, Force Aura, maybe Force Resistance. She can still wield her grief and her anger, but it doesn't rule her – she's not like Atton, where those powers hold a real and present danger for his psyche. She still feels that pain, and she's unafraid to use the darkness when necessity calls, but it's not the only thing that fills her heart anymore.

#kotor #kotor 2 #kotor ii #atton rand #bao-dur #visas marr #mira #brianna #the handmaiden #mical #the disciple

[seafoamreadings]

week of april 2nd, 2023

aries: it's a fairly subtle/soft focus but look at your money energy and also the way you interact with all kinds of other people this week. are you living authentically, in your personal integrity?

taurus: it's not serious for a while yet, but this week is the beginning of a few chthonic grumblings of a taurean mercury retrograde. best practice is to start preparing now; back up data, vehicle maintenance, etc.

gemini: a libran full moon means you are in a prime position for a fun time. you do have to go out there and get involved but that's seldom been a problem for you anyway. and if you have the time, start prepping to make the mercury retrograde impending in a few weeks a little less chaotic.

cancerians: as a cardinal sign you're great at getting things started and taking care of projects, but even with all that the vibes this week are in square cardinal signs and fixed taurus; it's a little itchy in a sense, like you have to fight your way forward through some dense jungle of obstacles.

leo: taurean weeks like this can be overwhelming to you and you might find yourself impatiently/stubbornly butting heads with others all week. but by the time the moon is into sagittarius at the end of the week, things have lightened up a bit and you start getting your way at least part of the time.

virgo: venus supports you and your most important relationship(s). it is a week which is likely to be both fruitful and romantic. it's a good time to prep for mercury retrograde especially if you're a more mercurial virgo. you'll be way early but that suits you and the auspices are in their right places for it now.

libra: even hard relationships can be healing. that's one reason your sign gets so stereotyped about them - you sense it naturally and instinctively. sometimes leaving them is also healing, though. assess carefully this week.

scorpio: the journey of spiritual growth is not usually something one chooses consciously. so, like it or not, whether you're aware of it already or not, you are on that path or just arriving at the trailhead. a significant person this week helps to guide you.

sagittarius: you get it easy in a way lots of people will find grating, especially with your already easygoing nature. if it's not feeling easy a gratitude practice and kind-hearted acts in your immediate community go a long way to help at this time.

capricorn: the earth energy all week, while not explicitly capricornish, is nevertheless beneficial to you. good fortune should follow you. if it isn't financial it's happening elsewhere; be openminded and stay grateful.

aquarius: a full libra moon has your mind really going. while you're not a sign really known for being inclined towards anxiety, any natural tendencies in that direction become activated here. so take it easy on yourself - the taurus vibes boost your ability to do so if you apply yourself to that.

pisces: a lot of the week's astrology is beautiful and surreal, and a lot of it is also grounded and strong. while the former is your natural habitat, the latter is not so much. even so, it can benefit you if you are needing a steady hand to hold.

#weekly horoscope #horoscopes #astrology #signs #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

[daegulinekush]

The death of peace fo mind

~ a Kim Taehyugn Fanfiction

Chapter two: ★ It scares me sometimes. the emptiness I see in my own eyes ★

Contains: trauma, we getting OC backstory, minor character death, mentions of bullying, generally sad and angsty chapter

The pounding of my head is something I can’t get over. It feels like my head is split in two, like all of the regrets in my life are coming back to me to entirely shatter my brain, breaking the chains I so forcefully put on them, just to grasp at me with their sharp as knives claws, shadow like demons, with no clear nor touchable form, yet oh so real that they make blood come to the surface with just a mere brush of their claws.

I always hated getting drunk. After the adrenaline seeps away from the veins and the euphory of never-ending laughter leaves my body, there is nothing but my joke of a soul left behind, trimmed to shreds of the person I could have been if things were to be different.

It’s morbid, really, the place my mind can become. I don’t like the way self-pity tends to swallow me, the way heavy clouds are pulled as thick curtains over me and burn my lungs as I try to breathe.

Life is a joke and it should be treated as such: light-hearted and fun. The moment should be lived to the max and, above it all, taking life too seriously will always lead to suddenly realizing we have just one life and we’ve been wasting each breath with worries instead of taking things as they are. Life passes and worrying about everything has never been benefic. Regrets are useless as you can’t change the past.

Yet, in moments like these, I can’t help but mourn the person I could have been. Would I have been better? Would I be less snappy, would my life lack so many hardships if she was there?

The ache and emptiness in my chest feel way too common, too known. A deeply etched wound, one that refuses to close, to heal, one that will always keep a part of me hollow, empty. It is inevitable, a constant mourning I can merely push at the back of my head and ignore. One that will never truly stop, not until my last breath, maybe not even after that.

Ah, the way my head feels like it’s gonna split in two.

With a heavy breath and aching eyes from the very back of my head, I rub at my face, vaguely surprised to remark no remains of my makeup from yesterday on my palms. Tae probably cleaned my face after I basically blacked out from tiredness. It makes warmth and fondness bloom in my heart inevitably, always so tender, always so careful. He’s truly the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Reaching for my phone, the light up of the screen makes the pain in my eyeballs even harsher, forcing me to blink owlishly. The text from him is what makes me stubbornly focus on my screen.

“Taebear: Good morning, bestie <3 I’m at Chim’s. Bet your head is pounding. I truly should stop both of your stubborn asses from drinking together ever again. Y’all never know when to stop”

It leaves a faint smile on my lips inevitably. He’s truly the best thing to have ever happened to me. He’s been there for me when not even I could be there for myself, believed in me when I couldn’t see even one good thing in myself.

It brings memories back, forces them to seep through the too-thin barriers I forcefully raised, my brain too tired, wires too entangled to be able to push them back. The kind of memories that make your eyes sting, the type of memories nobody should have.

It feels so heavy, the press and burn of my lungs, the way I can still feel the metallic scent of blood, so unfit for the one of camellias she wore, as if I was still there, as if years have not passed at all, as if I remained a mere not even 14 years old all over again.

Closing my eyes on instinct makes it even worse.

In moments like these, with new starts, it truly feels inevitable to not wonder, to not live again that moment when my life changed irremediably.

Most of my memories are blurry while also having moments of concerning clarity.

There had been too much going on. I was barely starting my rebellious phase, the one every teenager should have the luxury of, one so important for simply discovering yourself as a person.

My mom had never been the type to keep a tight grasp on me. She was just like me while also being so different, with her small smile that feels so blurred at the corners of my memories, with the warmth she always carried, with the harsh lines over her face when she frowned, somehow her eyes so tired, the worries so deeply etched onto her features.

I was just 13, almost 14. I needed her more than I could have ever anticipated, needed her safety, needed the ridiculous fights every teenage girl should have with her parents.

Life had never been easy but maybe I was too stubborn to truly understand her words, just to later hang on so heavily onto each and every one of them, wishing for more, wishing the times when she would scold me could be there again, wishing for things that are impossible, like being able to remember her better.

It’s getting close to that time of the year again. The time when leaves fall, the time when green turns into yellow and burning dark brown. With time passing, inevitably the wound forces its ugly roots to pump poison into me all over again, forces me to grieve all over again, forces me back to that clueless and scared 13-year-old.

I can still hear my distorted screams, somewhat clogged, the images of my memory carrying blurred edges and even more blurred little spots along my vision.

I can feel and see it just the way I’ve lived through it.

The way her trembling hands gripped onto the counter of the kitchen, her back for the first time in my whole life not being straight shoulders and intimidatingly perfect control, but a weak hunch, bowed and looking more like a fragile leaf than the woman who has raised me with such strong beliefs. The one who's been the very example of how I wished to be, even if right now I know I can't hold a mere candle to her, the one who somehow in all of the chaos that was our lives made it home and safe and the best I could have asked for.

It's heartbreaking, truly. The way I have so many memories of her, so much warmth to remember, yet my heart becomes hollow just thinking of her, the memory that pops in my mind when I think of her is the warm feeling of blood and her body becoming cold, it's the way her eyes became more and more unfocused without becoming glassy and the whisper of "I'm proud of you", words I will forever cherish, but will probably never be able to agree with.

In all of the chaos of a father who wasn't a dad and not just gave up on both me and her, but also forced her to make a home out of chaos for the both of us, made us run and hide, unwilling to even admit to his mistakes and instead trying so hard to get rid of every evidence that could point to the obvious.

An unwanted child. This is what I was for him and not even that. I was a problem, the fact that I was the only person carrying his cursed DNA.

Yet, I was kept so tightly in the grip of her, a woman better than I could ever be, even if she herself raised me, more or less struggling, more or less alone.

The only thing I know is that it could be worse. That on that day, four years ago, I could have had a worse fate, one less mercyful, one that would have made the mistake of my genes my supposed legal guardian and not guard me against anything but leave just a shell behind, one that wouldn't have lasted long before rotting and turning to ashes.

The police station is the thing I remember in a blur after calling the emergency number desperately, refusing to believe the obvious that had not been obvious at all until it was too late and it hit me in full force.

The worst day of my life, the reason for most of my nightmares. One that I remember just in uglily cut parts, like a bad old movie I wasn't somehow part of, not in the true sense. A tragedy with no meaning, lower than any character changing, a mere filler put there to fill an episode for more money in the pockets without any regard for how it will affect.

The thing about being at the police station while in shock is that you have selective hearing. Or so I wish to call it. The automatic responses to the questions, the narration but yet not enough settled memories to process them, the refusal, the unbelief of what has happened. I refused to believe it that night.

Someone normal might have cried, maybe. This is how people show their sadness, their anger, their deepest emotions. And yet, I was empty. I couldn't feel anything or I felt so much to the point I became numb.

I remember being cold, I remember it being late November, I remember voices blending in the background and questions flying above my head as soon as I responded. I couldn't process anything.

I remember the way the place felt so much like a hospital or any other institution associated with such pain and loss, loss of yourself even, of your time, your mental health, your very soul sucked from you, the hallways endless, the floors as clean and as dirty as any other place of such, the walls so light they make your eyes burn and wish they’d rather kill themselves. It’s just something sickening about those common yet so rare places, something that simply screams at you to get out while feeling timeless. Maybe this is exactly the reason one feels like being driven insane by them. Or, at least, I did.

Then, somehow, a little bit of emotion, of mercy came in a form I didn’t expect, I didn’t even think about, but I should of have in all honesty.

It was the walk of a small, delicate-looking woman at first, her long hair and the way she walked, always hurried and always seemingly needing to be somewhere. The second giveaway was the way she gasped when her warm eyes gazed upon me, arms already open, already reaching for me.

She was beaten by a mere hair by the only one man I could say has never disappointed me, the one I trust my very life to, the one I would put my heart in the hands of and would be sure he wouldn’t be so cruel to claw at it.

Warm, Taehyung has always been so warm, since we were kids, even if we never got to stay more than a month together at a time before that moment. His arms were wrapped tightly around me, such a tight grip, and he was pulling me closer as if I would crumble if he didn’t, like this was the only way to keep my supposedly broken pieces together. He was sniffling already, eyes red and bangs falling into his eyes, wide and with so much emotion in them, so much that maybe, maybe just at that moment, the switch that has been pulled within me had been finally gently switched by his fingertips, because after so many hours, I could feel my cheeks becoming wet, the heartache I have been forcing down unknowingly, sobs threatening to rip through my lips. I tried so hard to keep them down, bit my lip until I almost drew blood, and yet, they were trembling so bad, I was trembling so bad that I simply couldn’t stop them.

I remember the blinding lights becoming less blinding, my face hidden at his chest. He was wearing a light brown hoodie, and I haven’t properly seen him in two years, to the point I almost couldn’t recognize him, how much he’s grown, lanky long limbs and slowly sharpening features. He became even taller, as if he wasn’t already taller than me since we were ten, to the point where I reached his shoulder.

Yet, he remained unexplainably Taehyung, my Taehyung, my childhood friend. The same friend I ran from dusk till down with at the farm, the same guy who carried me on his back and stumbled when we were just five because I scratched my knees badly and was crying, the same friend I slept cuddled with in the same bed for so many nights.

At that point, it was everything I needed: the way he held me so tightly, the breakings of his in transformation voice and weird way it sounded when he whispered it’ll be okay, that I’m not alone. It was even more ridiculous considering we were standing on two very uncomfortable chairs or, better said, were almost entirely crumbling them with our fussing.

The blanket wrapped later around my shoulders was the same light brown, soft and warm, his mother handing it to him and going to talk to the police officers.

Maybe just then did it hit me how actually dangerous this situation was for me, for my future. I couldn’t end up in my father’s hands, not when he’s already caused so much pain to my mother, not when everything I knew regarding him was closer to a monster than a human, not when I knew he had a wife home, not when I knew of the harsh words he had told my mother, not when he was already such an absent figure from my life, one that I didn’t and couldn’t trust.

Fear. I could feel it all through my body, the trembling, the shivers, the anxiety building within. Would I even be listened to? Would they even ask me where I wanna go or will I be forced to just go with him as supposedly my only parent alive? Did I truly have no word to say and they’ll just decide for me, will make such an important decision and shove it down my throat as if I’m simply supposed to just accept living under the same roof with someone I can’t suffer, someone who has literally told my own mother she should have aborted me, someone who acted as if I decided to ruin your life, as if I decided to exist, as if he didn’t have any fault in all of this story, as if he didn’t have a whole relationship with my mother without ever telling her he’s married?

It was a concept I couldn’t grasp, I refused to. But me and Taehyung, knowing each other for so long, had a special connection, knew how to read each other, or maybe he’s always simply had this talent, the one where he can tell what I’m feelings, the one where he can anticipate what I’m thinking about in some moments.

“We won’t let him take you. Mom would drag this whole police station to hell before she’d let any of them get their hands on you, dear. You’re gonna come with us. You have to. There’s no other way”

He was so sure, so sure I will go back home with them, with him and his mother.

Two days. It took around two days for all of the mess to merely be talked over so I could at least get out of that depressing place. The flight had been long and very sudden for them too, but they were here, for me.

Another two months went in a blur, but I was let to stay with them, at least.

It was a whole another level of hell. To have to face my father, to prove he’s got not right over me by my mother’s signature, which I didn’t even know in the first place was already arranged between those two women, but God bless their anticipation and planificatory skills.

Things ended up the best it could have happened for such a context, with me going to Korea with Taehyung and his mom, even as I didn’t know much words of the language as we were so used to communicating in Japanese.

Everything was new, but at least I wasn't alone. Even if it wasn't easy, even if many times I wondered if it's even worth it in the first place, if I can continue.

Many things have happened along those four and a half years we've been living together. It didn't feel like I was an outsider, like I didn't belong. It took time to adapt, to interact properly with Taehyung's siblings, to get used to the life here. We had our ridiculous fights, more or less serious, more or less dramatic. His mom feels like my own too, always so warm and yet knowing exactly when to be stern, when to get a tighter grasp on us, when to be our friend and laugh with us and when to shake us to reality.

It's not like I didn't have the time to mourn. I guess I just simply never felt ready to do it properly.

Maybe this is exactly why even when I feel like there's no hope, there is still a part of me that betrays me, that lets it linger. Because I've always had Taehyung. Because we got each other's back when people were bullying us, because my temperament had always spiked when someone targeted him, because I simply couldn't let him all alone. Many times had his mother been called and asked to come to highschool, been repeated I have problems with my behavior and that I become violent.

She tried, she truly tried to instill the gentleness within me. Her and my own mother were very different on those sides. 

To say it didn’t work was an understatement. Especially when it was the period where I finally met Jimin, who was just as mad as me at the world when Taehyung was being mistreated and we more or less formed a protection squad around him.

It had been just me and Taehyung at first, but I have always been happy about him having other friends than me. When Taehyung had told me over the phone he met Jimin, I was happy. When he told me they’re soulmates, I have been not so sure, as I didn’t want him to get hurt if things go the wrong way. Then, I met Jimin myself, who’s so different, whom I have totally another type of interaction with. Yet, no matter how much we bully each other, I know he’s always got my back. I know this man will not hesitate to entirely make someone regret their lives if necessarily.

Taehyung will always remain my best friend, my childhood, my support person and everything good in my life. Maybe it’s just natural to be like that, for him to be everything for me considering he’s always been there for me, like a brother I could simply always count on, no matter how far away.

Jimin was… my biggest critique. In the best of ways. The type to realize I’ve got enough sugar coating, the type to balance it out, the type to tell me I actually look like shit when I do, to grab me by the shoulders and entirely restyle me, refusing to let me out of the house until I look jaw dropping. He’s a big supporter, somehow sweeter, but he’s also rougher in that way that simply fits. Because he’ll be there to wipe my tears away and would know to choose his words carefully, but he’d also call me stupid when it’s needed. The same guy who taught me how to throw a punch properly, the same guy who taught me how to fight even when Taehyung was so against it, knowing I’ve got the spirit in me, knowing I needed the knowledge as to not hurt myself.

Jimin is someone I didn’t think I needed in my life, but also someone I would not let go of and I’m very lucky to have as a friend. Someone whom I’ll always be happy that met my very soul and keeps taking care of it, the only person besides me whom I trust entirely to care for Taehyung, maybe even more, because I won’t be enough of a fool to lie to myself that it’s not different. Guys will always talk and understand each other differently, which is completely natural and normal.

Yet, as much as I adore my actual life, I can’t help but wonder sometimes if it would have been different if she was still there. I can’t help but mourn the kid I could have been, can’t help but mourn for all of the memories I could have and the ones I lost and lose with each day.

With each year I forget details about her and it’s disheartening. Who will remember her if I don’t?

Tagging: @parkdatjimin @pamzn 🥰

Author note: This chapter feels quite bland to me and it definitely didn't end the way I wanted but I guess we can't do things the way we wish for everytime 🥺

#bts fanfiction #fanfiction #bts fic #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic

[nametakensff]

3, 16, and one of your choosing :)

Also, hope you feel better soon!

Thank you! 💕 Hopefully coming to an end with this illness soon

3 - Do you regret anything?

Hmm....I regret not being diagnosed with autism, adhd and ocd earlier because that would have saved me a lot of grief and stopped me from blaming myself for being unable to handle things it seemed everyone else could.

I regret sleeping with a few people, all of whom were men. I could go the rest of my life without sex if it was all that terrible 💀

Other than that.....I don't think I regret many major things, it would probably just be wishing I had swallowed a thought instead of saying something awkward out loud haha

16 - How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

Honestly? Not the best. I'm pretty content with life rn but PMS combined with being sick combined with the miserable bloody rain isn't really helping 😅 I'll feel much better tomorrow when the sun is out!!

I'll pick 23 since I love piercings and always want to know about everyone else's haha

I currently have 3 in each lobe and I hang heavy, captive bead rings in them, with the rings decreasing in size up my ear

I used to have a cartilage piercing and stubbornly hung on to it for years but it would never, ever properly heal. Retired it this last year

Had both my nipples pierced a good few years ago too but also had to retire them after they started rejecting. That made me super sad but honestly, if you have larger breasts the chances of the bars getting knocked around is so high it was bound to end badly for me 😭

#thank you for asking ❤️ #nttalks

[beelsnack]

A Candlelit Evening - An Asmo x MC Commission for devil-mage

@devil-mage commissioned me for a short piece with Asmo and her lovely MC Elaine. I had a fun time with this one!

If you would like to commission me, you can find all of my info here. It's also the pinned post on my blog.

-----

“You’re sure you’ve got this, darling?”

Lightning flashed violently outside, throwing Elaine into sharp contrast as she stared at the candle on Asmo’s vanity like it had insulted her bloodline. Storms in the Devildom were no joke, so she really wasn’t surprised that the power had been knocked out. 

“Positive,” she said, silently repeating the steps Solomon had taught her. Healing was more her forte, but she had been steadily getting better at elemental magic. This was the perfect opportunity to give it a go.

“Just give me two minutes, I can find a lighter.”

“No,” Elaine stubbornly refused to turn and look at Asmo, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed with his phone going dim beside him. One of the influencers he followed had started posting videos of them baking, which of course meant Asmo wanted to try it. Problem was, he didn’t know the first thing about baking, Barbatos had no time for him and Beel would likely eat everything before he got a good picture. He had thought about asking Luke, but remembered about Elaine’s baking hobby just before he was going to message the chihuahua. And thus, that was how the two of them ended up on Asmo’s bed, huddled over his phone going through Sinterest and trying to find the perfect recipe.

And then, boom! goes the wifi.

Asmo, being the absolute drama queen that he was, had a myriad of candles scattered about his room. On his vanity, on shelves, there were even tea lights that lined a path to his overly extravagant bathroom. He claimed that they were to “set the mood,” but honestly they came in handy when the lights went out. 

“Okay,” Elaine mumbled, adjusting her glasses. She may or may not have flailed a bit when the lights went out, and in the process, some of her pale-gray hair had gotten caught in the hinge. She was being very brave about it.

“Feel the heat…smell the smoke,” she took a deep breath. “See the spark.”

She half-expected nothing to happen, but to both her and Asmo’s pleasant surprise, the trio of candles clustered together on his vanity lit themselves in a not-destructive manner. 

“Yes!” Elaine punched the air with such enthusiasm that she rocked back a little bit on Asmo’s bed. She felt his soft hands on the back of her cropped black jacket catch her before she could tumble off the bed.

“You did it!” Asmo cheered. “I knew you could.”

“You were trying to convince me not to, like, forty-five seconds ago,” Elaine stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You shouldn’t live in the past, darling.”

Elaine snorted, about to sit herself right side up when she felt Asmo’s hands slide from her shoulder blades down to her waist, squeezing her love handles on the way down.

“You know, I like this atmosphere,” he murmured, leaning close to her ear as he spoke. “Candlelight, nowhere to go with the storm…we could -”

“Absolutely not.” she interrupted, voice flat.

“I didn’t even finish -”

“You didn’t need to.”

Asmo huffed, “Is Sol -”

“Solomon isn’t teaching me mind reading magic, you’re just predictable.”

“Oh, come on!”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #asmo x mc #asmo x fem!mc #commission

[frostfall-matches]

[ matchmaking... ]

@blank-dreamlucid : [ match report ready ]​

the romantic match is…

✦ Mozus Trein

From the sounds of it, your mom may feel more comfortable with someone she shares a number of traits with. This isn’t to say that an “opposites attract” situation couldn’t work, but with her preference for structure and stability it may feel easier to be with someone who shares at least some similar traits and mindsets. Both of them are rather serious, responsible, realistic, and methodical. They each value hard work and order, and work better in a structured environment (especially if they were the ones to create that structure). There is a lot of mutual respect in these areas, since they share many of the same values and preferences. They will be able to easily understand these things about each other, and understand where the other is coming from in times of conflict.

Trein may be more even-tempered than your mom. He might get exasperated dealing with rambunctious students, and Crewel might get on his nerves sometimes, but he has a lot of patience. He is equipped to handle conflict and high emotions calmly, even if he might be emotional himself under the surface. He’s mature and has had a lot of life experience; he’s not going to ruin a relationship by stubbornly arguing while tempers are fiery. While your mom may be temperamental, she’s rational, too. Trein will easily be able to appeal to this side of her, and he knows when to give her space to collect herself and her thoughts. He will be more than willing to give her time to cool down and talk about the issue later.

Trein seems to be a family man! As discovered in his voice lines from the third NRC Joint Exams, he actually previously had a wife (who passed away) and a few daughters (who are all grown up already), and it’s clear that he loves them dearly. He knows what a good partnership looks like in a marriage, and he’s had experience raising children and dealing with kids who have grown up already. That being said, he will be able to match that “family is important” mindset that your mother has. Each family dynamic is going to be different, but he is going to do his best to adapt and make things work. He can probably also relate to your mom being hesitant to get into another relationship; she may be trying to protect her child as well as keep the family dynamic from shifting too much.

On top of that, he may actually be able to provide very valuable advice, so long as she is willing to listen! Every parent handles their children growing up differently. Some can really struggle seeing their child grow up and become more independent, leaving the nest and spreading their wings, because the parent is so used to guiding their child and making sure they don’t make any drastic mistakes. We may not know if this is an area Trein struggled in, but he knows what it’s like to see his children start developing their own adult lives.

He will be incredibly sad and sympathetic hearing about your mother’s backstory. He can’t even imagine how painful and difficult it must have been to deal with an abusive partner, all while trying to make sure one’s young child is safe and protected. He is also very sympathetic to find out the sort of emotional neglect she had to deal with in regard to her own father, how he didn’t want daughters and acted cold towards the one he did have. Once he is dedicated to someone, Trein is absolutely supportive of any healing or growth that needs to be done around those traumatic incidents. Everyone heals differently and at their own pace, and even if someone is “healed” that doesn’t mean that they never think about the incident anymore, or they don’t have lingering behaviors as a result of trauma. Dealing with the effects of trauma is lifelong, and Trein is not afraid of being someone’s support for that, no matter how difficult it might get.

Those with the ISTJ personality type are honest, direct, strong-willed, and tend to create and enforce structure and order. On the negative side, they tend to be stubborn, rigid, and extremely hard on themselves. Trein is extremely similar in this regard, and sometimes conflict may be inevitable because of their stubbornness! If they’re both trying to create and enforce their own order, if there are any points that differ between the two, that is definitely a point of friction. They’ll be arguing who has the better system for the situation, who should have the final say in things, etc… But if they are able to work out a compromise, or their ideas of structure are compatible in the first place, it’s smooth sailing! They will hold each other accountable while also being supportive.

Those with the 6w5 enneagram type are intellectual and introspective, and their basic fear is losing guidance and stability. They are protective of themselves and their loved ones, and they seek close and stable relationships. Trein is about as stable and steady as you can get. He knows who he is, what he wants, what he likes and dislikes. And, to put it frankly, he’s older. He has already settled down and had a family once, and has a pretty steady career teaching. There are plenty of years ahead of him, of course, there’s a lot more to do and to see! But much of the transitional periods in his life have come and gone at this point.

Trein will find your mom’s job as a nurse to be admirable. To be a successful nurse you need to be smart, a quick-thinker, patient, and empathetic. Going through any kind of medical training is a lot of work and you really have to want to do it to follow through with it. However, it can be an incredibly high-stress job depending on what kind of hours and tasks are expected, as a nurse can fill many different roles in different healthcare settings. With your mom also being a workaholic, it may be difficult for her to remove herself from “work mode.” Trein is dedicated to his work, too, but he knows it’s important to rest when you can. You can’t continue to work at 100% if you don’t allow yourself to rest! He is a big advocate for settling down somewhere comfy, with some tea and a good book (and maybe a cat!), and relaxing. Or, as your mom loves delicious food, perhaps they can go out together and try out a new restaurant, or go to one of her favorites!

the platonic match is…

[ Vil! ]

Vil is drawn towards anyone who is confident and dedicated to themselves and their goals. He is incredibly driven and strict with himself, and is not afraid to guide others with the same strictness if he feels it will benefit them. He knows there are times where it is fine to be a little more relaxed, and he believes everyone should allow themselves to enjoy life, but deep down he is always aware of his lifelong goal of improving himself and being the best he can be. Your mom works out, so she obviously cares for her health; she dresses more simple and casual, but she is a busy woman between work and family so the clothes are practical; she is organized and dependable, so it makes sense that she is good with money and planning ahead.

As your mom is a fair bit older than he is, that means that she has had that much more life experience. He can see that she is successful, and that her determination and hard work has led her to that success. Vil would absolutely want to use her as an example and a resource for advice. He’s young, and he doesn’t exactly know what sort of challenges will come with age and how to really be successful with both a career and family (if one chooses to go that route), so any advice or insight would be greatly beneficial for him.

Still, nobody is perfect. No one is exempt from stress and personality flaws. It is clear to him that your mom has had her fair share of struggles. It is immensely difficult going through abuse, all while trying to keep other members of the family safe. It takes a lot of strength to get out of those types of situations, and the aftermath of trying to keep the children happy and provided for will take a lot of work. The stress easily piles on in these situations, and it can make a temperamental person lash out. Vil can understand where your mom is coming from when she does lash out, but what is more important in his eyes is if she is making efforts to manage those emotions and apologize to others when needed.

Since he’s still young, he is easily able to put himself in the position of a “child” to their “parent” (in other words, he would easily be able to put himself in your shoes). Vil can see that it can be hard for a child to be micromanaged by their parent; he knows he does a version of micromanaging to his dorm members when he wants them to improve, but he can also see that it can be incredibly frustrating. Vil is one to speak his mind, and he wouldn’t have any hesitation bringing up the benefits and consequences of your mom’s parenting style. And, actually, it may potentially lead him to learning something about himself with how he manages his dorm members. He will realize that communication is extremely important, because not everyone will view someone’s tough love and strict monitoring as helpful.

All in all, though, Vil would definitely see your mother as a potential mentor type of person, someone he can go to for advice and to see how her actions have led her to her current point in life. He thinks it is valuable to learn about the experiences of others, because although life plays out differently for each person, it is still a learning opportunity to see what works for people and what doesn’t, and why. He can relate to many of your mom’s strengths, and while they do not share some of their most important weaknesses he can still examine her weaknesses and compare them to his own. She is someone that he can look to in order to become his best self.

#user matchup #twst #request

[alyjojo]

Twin Flame 🔥 Journey - July 2022 - Aquarius

Your Energy:

4 Swords - Ace of Wands - 5 Cups

Regarding: The Hanged Man

You are in an energy of mourning & forced rest. I honestly can’t tell who the runner is between you. I assume you, but it’s not like you’re happy about it. You both mirror each other’s sadness and worry. It seems like you’re the one that stepped away from the connection, because you just wanted the stress of it to be over with. Not that you don’t love them, but it was too much. 9 Swords is constant mental torture on yourself, which this person mirrors, and it left you paralyzed in indecision. You had to go. You definitely feel the loss of this person and the happiness you had together, and for the time being, you’re just healing. There is no other person (which this person fears), no excitement, no lust, nothing like that. Not even an enjoyment of life, you’re literally hanging in utero just trying to heal your heart from whatever has happened between you. 3 Swords is on their side, one of you had a 3rd party that could’ve been the nail in the coffin.

Their Energy:

3 Swords - 9 Swords - 7 Cups rev - 10 Cups

Regarding: 8 Cups

Your persons energy is full of heartbreak and fear, and I can’t gauge who did what because you mirror each others fears, hurts and worries. Some 3rd party was prevalent in the past, it caused the 5 Cups you feel on your side. They feel forced to leave this behind when they never wanted to, that’s the head of their energy. And yours. They’re just devastated. 9 Swords shows up on their side, they don’t believe you’re telling them the whole truth, but they also fear you coming back around with more painful truth than they already know. That sentiment is mirrored in your outcome. They want to know unless it’s painful, then they don’t. Their biggest fear is you plotted this all along, stood by the wayside, just waiting to tear everything apart, because they see/saw you as 10 Cups. If there was a lover, they feel you left them for that person, even though your energy is completely alone.

10 Cups was what they felt they had before you went into 4 Swords & The Tower over this 3rd party. I don’t see the 3rd party on your side is my issue. One of you cheated, and it ended the connection, or maybe it was not known was the issue, because truth was not spoken and what came out tore you apart. This can also refer to some outside thing forcing you apart…moving locations, career, family issues, any number of 3rd energy things. You’re healing, they’re an emotional mess.

Mutual Energy:

8 Wands rev - Ace of Swords - 2 Pentacles rev

Regarding: 9 Pentacles rev

There is zero messaging, any communication or movement whatsoever between you, at least in July. This all seems pretty recent for you both to be in these energies. There is no clarity or truth between you about NOT juggling either, which seems to be important. This person thinks you’re off in some hotel room as we speak, when really you’re barely hanging on to hope and trying to get by as much as they are. You have nothing to say to each other, though 2 Cups is here on one side. You both feel this deep & intense connection, you suspect this is your soulmate or Twin whether you believe or not, it’s nothing like any other connection. You could both fear that you both simply don’t want to be alone, and contacting the other would only be another cycle in a dead connection. Which isn’t true, but it doesn’t feel like it’s the right time either. You’re both stubbornly hanging onto The Hermit energy, withdrawing and working on yourselves. Which is exactly what you’re supposed to be doing 💜

Karmic Cards: (both blue and red for you)

Venus - Cancer - 10th House

- The attraction of intuition to protect your destiny.

- Pleasure from attitudes from the past about where you’re going.

- Good times resulting from the history of your career.

- Cherish your feelings responsibly.

- Enjoy attitudes from the past about success.

- Charm, art, and beauty are the way to use your intuition and become a person of power and status.

Oracle: Great Adventure 🧗🏾‍♀️

“Take a risk. Venture forward.”

At the end of your life, you are more likely to regret the things you didn’t do than the things you did, so take a risk. If you don’t try, you’ll never know. By stepping outside of your comfort zone, you’ll discover new talents and abilities. Playing it safe, in the long run, is no better than rushing forward with glee. Hoist your sails, explore the new ports that call, it’s easy to stay safe in the harbor but that’s not where the juice of life is. Be willing to put yourself out in a limb, that’s where the best fruit is. When you push yourself beyond your personal boundaries, life is so much more fulfilling.

Messages:

Their side:

- Spinning in Circles 😵

- Quietly observing

Your side:

- Facial hair

- We aren’t compatible

- At a distance

Charms:

Blue Heart 💙 on 3 Swords & The Tower shows how deeply sad this person has been. Whatever has happened between you has changed their entire world forever, they went from 10 Cups to a shattered foundation and relationship. It’s important to keep this in mind if you would try to contact them, they’re nowhere near healed. Nor should you expect them to be...and some of you might.

Blossom 🌸 on Great Adventure is where you find your answers, leaving this person behind, because you have to. There is no more playing it safe, it’s time to take risks and question everything you know about everything, because it’s only in this energy that you’ll find out who you really are and what makes you really happy, what fulfills you. You are about to blossom into more than you ever imagined.

#aquarius tarot reading #twin flame 🔥 #july 2022 #twin flame reading #Aquarius #tarot

[grayintogreen]

Extra Credit? Hope this all fits

1 My favorite fic of yours-This Question is so hard to answer, but I do have a special place in my heart for the king lies bleeding, It was an expansion on a prompt I had given and I definitely stalked it's creation. Super great and soft and I love all of EQ and where it has gone!

2. My favorite chapter in my favorite fic of I feel like this is the time to address Creedemption, It's Amazing, my favorite chapter(so far!) Is 31 Lucien and the Somnovem insight Zoran and Ophelia was hilarious, Molly and Caleb cuddles, and then VAX, This chapter was a treat!

3. The best characters you've written for

Lucien and Cree! I love how you've expanded greatly on their stories while still keeping then in character

4. The best ships you've written for

Lucigast Lucreegast Widomauk. I am incredibly biased but I love them

5. A fic I haven't read yet from you, but I

want to- Started Shattered Stage, forgot about it, still haven't finished it.

6. Something I remember vividly flrom

reading one of your fics- from #1 "It’s a little spark that might light the pyre that consumes them or its the breaking point they need to start healing. Caleb sleeps and dares to believe for a moment that there’s a chance they won’t completely ruin each other." I've been thinking of those lines for months both in anticipation of the next EQ and just because they are written very well.

7 What made me the most emotional after reading- Creedemption has made me feel so many emotions, good and bad :)

8. What I like the most about your writing

Where do I begin, the actual writing is gorgeous, the characters are perfection and the way it can be dark but never pointlessly or irredeemably dark.

9. A fic i'm excited for you updating/posting Creedemption and EQ!

10. A character/ship l didn't enjoy/think about as much before you wrote about-them Cree! and Lucreegast, she didn't mean half as much to me before your writing, and now I love her so much.

11. Something I wish/hope you write-I have heard whispers of Pirates. Also more of the Threeleafs and Caleb!

12. A fic of yours that i've re-read See#1 but also Turning Wine Back into Water it's such a cute comfort fic for me:)

13. If i've ever shared/talked about your fic to someone else, -kinda, I've never directly shared it's content, but I have been asked what I have been excited about or made a weird noise reading before.

14. A fic l didn't expect to like so much- Surprisingly, Turning Wine Back into Water; I've read some horrible kidfics before and was Wary, Needlessly as it was Beautiful;)

15. A question I have about one of your fics Has it surprised you the direction where EQ is seemingly going. Redemption instead of Destruction;)

ALL OF THE EXTRA CREDIT. HOLY COW. You got me right in the heartmeat with this.

Platonic BDSM. Violence inflicted on Lucien and him stubbornly having to accept help. All VERY GOOD THINGS. I'm SO SO glad that I expanded on such a good prompt.

Ahhhh. I really love all of the Somnovem and Lucien stuff in that fic so the more I get to drop it, the happier I am and it delights me to hear that people are loving what I'm doing there. And god that Vax reveal was very important to me. That line he says at the very end has been sitting in a document since the conception of this fic. It was always going to be one of his first spoken lines.

MY UNLOVED CHILDREN. There's so little of them and yet SO MUCH SUBTEXT. And I will make other people love them through exposure. :}

Those are all very good ships. [sage nod] The gamut of FUCKED UP, FUCKED UP BUT AT LEAST THERE'S ONE SENSIBLE PERSON IN THERE (sort of), and OH NO THEY'RE CUTE (but also fucked up).

ONE DAY. I have a soft spot for that fic, but it's a biggun... Not as big as Creedemption, but I mean.. You've been on that one since the start.

THANK YOU. <333 God, I have like four EQ fics I need to write, some of which are GUT-WRENCHING, but a couple are cute. The Nein coming back into the "narrative" is, uh, sure a thing.

kdsfjslk I am sorry but also not. It's a chunky soup of emotions, that fic.

"DARK BUT NEVER POINTLESSLY OR IRREDEEMABLY DARK" oh thank you, that is what I strive for. I love writing dark stuff and beating up on characters, but I believe in soft epilogues. I have written some miserable endings and love reading them too, but man I usually WANT a happy ending, even when I know it ain't gonna happen.... But then sometimes it does. STARES AT EQ.

SOON!! come on brain be so smart.

I have no excuse for loving Cree so much beyond an unhinged love of fealty and black cats, but I am committed to her now and I'm glad to drag people with me.

I have... so many pirate fics in planning stages!! One of which is Threeleaf and Caleb!! That prompt has been sitting in my askbox for a year...

I think that fic is a comfort fic for many people and that makes me so happy. It's so silly but I'm so glad such a weird idea took off.

That is very sweet. I hope to continue making you make weird noises.mndjfldsk

I DO... NOT LIKE KIDFICS, MYSELF?? it's a very hard concept to get right, and I still don't even know where it came from except that I know I had recently rewatched Liam's Quest and the vibe of it has always struck me. That one-shot is a big comfort to me even if it involves Liam MURDERING HIS FRIENDS GLEEFULLY. The damn ending gets me every time.

YES??? I think the original idea was gonna be Caleb going full dark and Lucien drawing back a little, while still not being wholly redeemable so much as he's just going uh so this guy is making me look sane by comparison, and the end goal was mutually assured destruction, and now it's... This. I like this better.

#fanfic ask game

[tamedstray]

HALETH AND VIGOR (if they had a kid meme)

Name: Florian Hamil Xinthiri (or Florian of Waterdeep)

Gender: Cis male

General appearance: Tumblr sexyman Florian has his mother's dark hair with a brush of silver framing his face. Pale, but not as pallid as Haleth, with cool undertones and innate dark circles. While his green eyes are as brilliant as hers, he has his father's softness about them, and his pale patch in the left eye.

Personality: Curious and reserved, Florian likes to observe long before he states an opinion or makes a decision, patiently learning and listening with Stoic focus. He takes a lot of pride in his careful approach, which can turn to arrogance at times, stubbornly refusing to admit he's wrong until forced to. Lacks his father's loyalty, but has his honesty as Florian views lying as a waste of time, even getting into trouble for his blunt tongue.

Special talents (and weaknesses): 

+ Resistant to magic from the Shadow Weave. Fewer side effects when channelling the Shadow Weave.

- Healing from the Weave isn't as good as it could be, but not as bad as it is for Haleth. Struggles to channel the Weave, but is capable with support and practice, but could never be a great wizard. Difficulty sleeping.

Who they like better: He likes them both. He's closer with Vigor as a child, but starts to understand Haleth more over the years, finding her more interesting than his father.

Who they take after more: It's a fair blend. In appearance, he leans towards his mother, but in personality he takes after both of them whilst being his own person in the end.

Personal headcanons:

Often referred to as Sprout, starting from when he was a baby. If Florian ever brings up Vigor's ageing, Vigor will call him Sprout in good jest.

Vigor takes a job tending the academy gardens and greenhouses, taking young Florian with him. Antics include Florian getting grabby hands with dangerous plants, having the silence spell cast on them when he starts crying, and students casting invisibly on Florian which terrifies Vigor.

If Gale is a professor, he loves asking him questions. Uncle Gale. Bonus points if he's got a kid for Florian to play with.

Loves cats.

Has always struggled with falling asleep. Magic and potions help, but some nights he's really affected. Despite being curious and interested in learning, he also procrastinates, using his poor sleep patterns to pull all-nighters.

His drow heritage isn't obvious to most, but he's heard the insult ❝zenar (less than half)❞ plenty of times.

Channels any spite into extravagant and creative pranks.

High-magic horizon walker ranger. He loves magic, practically raised in Blackstaff, but was never going to be a great wizard. He loved learning from his mother and Gale, but also appreciated his father's efforts to teach him about the natural world. The thing that inspired him most, however, were stories of their adventure fighting the Absolute. Despite traversing the planes of Faerûn, Florian makes sure to visit home often — sometimes teleporting directly into the living room, somehow both singed and soaking wet.

Face Claim: Felix Mallard

#forbiddenacademia #i had a lot of thoughts so just *throws it all in there* #even if its just for the meme im happy to edit bits because its fun to think about ok #burning mention

[overnighttosunflowers]

2, 7, 19, 21, 30, 61 for the get to know my d&d characters q’s?

thank you!! <3

2. before they met their party, what was their main goal?

Mairen - Initially, live a low-impact reality (thank you Taliesin for that phrase) in the woods; then, heal enough people to have fulfilled her godly duty or whatever as quickly as possible so she could go back to said woods.

Eos - When Ishi Mountain monks of age they travel around for a number of years to a) see the world, b) maybe meet a partner and bring folks back to the island to expand the population, and c) hunt down and take care of any escaped shadow creatures. Eos’s mom is a leader of their people and had a lot of adventures during her journey; Eos idolizes her. SO their main goal was to a) do some really cool shit like mom!!!!!!!! and b) that’s it.

7. which party member do they understand the least?

Mairen - They’ve been together for a while and she gets them both pretty well. Least intuitive to her are Ayin’s cheerful, casual, and optimistic bearing towards most danger and Nick’s attitude towards death. (He was sort of undead for the first ten levels? Archived UA rogue subclass called Revived. Now he’s not, but he spent a long time pretty sure he was at the end of his borrowed time and is pretty blasé, in Mairen’s opinion, about the chances of dying again.)

Eos - Definitely Ursula the (previously mentioned) Bloodthirsty Paladin. They used to think they understood her and now they find her ALARMINGLY erratic.

19. what haunts them? what doesn’t?

Mairen is haunted by the feeling that if one of her friends died and she couldn’t bring them back, that would be her fault.

Eos should really be haunted by the Deep Shit they’re in with the monks right now for having blabbed state secrets all over the place but they just got the HDYWTDT on a massive shadow creature that showed up at their tribunal so they’re feeling pretty good about things. Also, even before that, they were stubbornly ignoring the haunted feelings in favor of staunchly believing they’d done the right thing so it would be fine.

21. do they follow their head, their heart, or their body?

This is interesting. I think Mairen head, Eos heart, maybe?

30. what do they seek out from others?

Eos wants attention and admiration. They’re the kind of person who, every time they do something cool in combat, looks around to make sure that people (*especially our cleric Isla) saw it.

Mairen wants other people not to need anything from her because she doesn’t want to be obligated to anyone because she’s scared of what will happen if there’s bad shit and she can’t help. At this point we’re actively in the Saving The World portion of our campaign, though, and she’s been wrestling with the idea of fate and feels like maybe it absolves her of choice in a way she finds a little comforting… so I guess I would say at this point she wants for people to not ask her to make hard decisions.

61. what kind of flower would they choose to pick from a meadow?

Mairen:

Eos:

#mairen #eos #D&D #ask games #sarahmanning

[seasons-of-ceres]

Oh my goodness alright so uh okay I’m so embarrassed ahhhhh so um if you’re okay with it, could we please get a scenario of reader tending to Revali’s wounds? Please and thank you, I love the way you write them sm.🥺🥺💕💕

A/N: This has been sitting in my inbox for so long I’m so sorry! I forgot how much of a sassy mister Revali is, so this was refreshing to write. Thanks a bunch!

            “By the Goddesses,” Rea groans, “you idiot. What have you done to yourself?”

             Revali harrumphs, gracelessly sliding down the wall of the inn, his talons cutting into wood, the head wound not quite gushing blood, but streaming. Beyond that, there is a gash over and into his right shoulder, jagged like the attacker wriggled the blade about like a distressed dotard.

              “I thought you were going for a walk.”

              “I did.” Revali groans. “Now quit scolding me and-and come over here.”

              “Surely Mipha could—”

              “Mipha,” Revali snaps, “is busy looking after Link whom I’ve no patience for in my current condition. I find pity a truly tiring emotion to weather.”

              “You could’ve just said no.”

              Rea fetches a bucket, escaping Revali’s withering gaze for a moment to collect water from a nearby stream. She totters back inside, and grabs a rag, dropping it into the bucket and dampening Revali’s feathers. He doesn’t say much, nor does he elaborate on who or what caught him off guard. In cleaning the wound, it does appear to be superficial, and removing the crusty blood is the more tiresome task. The shoulder gash is what unnerves her some.

              “I don’t suppose you could tell me the type of blade. Do I have to worry about poison?”

              “It was a rusty blade, songbird.” Revali complains. “We have an ointment for that. Can you manage a needle and thread?”

              “If I say ‘no’ are you going to be a jerk about it?”

              “Why would I–?” Revali huffs. “I realize I’m hard on you, dearest, but I’m not about to berate you for lack of womanly talents.”

              “Just making sure.” Rea searches her pack for her medical kit, retrieving a ball of thread and a needle. She moves towards the lantern near the entrance, sticking the needle inside the flame but not too long so the metal is red-hot. “I am pretty good. Provided you don’t squirm too much.”

              “I shall endeavour not to.” Revali rolls his sides, cleaning the gash himself. “Do your worse, seamstress.”

              “We are just full of sass, aren’t we?” Rea smirks, pushing the needle through one part of Revali’s flesh, pausing to check his expression, and then poking the needle through the other side.

              There are no words spoken, Revali’s pride is an excellent muffler, and as the sewing continues, Rea is startled to realize she has never seen any amount of scarring on Revali. Part of her is terribly curious to peek however she can, and yet the responsible part of her resigns herself to helping him only.

               She pulls the skin together, once again checking Revali’s face for any signs of discomfort, before cinching the stitch. She ties it off with nimble fingers, mussing the short feathers to further hide the scar.

            “Would you want to bandage it?”

           “At night, perhaps. When it isn’t in use.” Revali relents, attempting to be responsible himself.

            “Hmm. Fair.”

            “What? No passionate argument?” Revali folds his arms over his chest, expression pinching in brief pain. “I’m surprised at you.”

             “If I were to harry you for every stupid thing you do, Revali, I’d lose my voice and then my mind.”

            “Don’t be so dramatic.”

            “Monkey see, monkey do, dearest.”

#Hex Writes #botw #legend of zelda #revali #to be fair Rea is also full of sass or at least all too willing to match words #gotta love characters who imperil themselves and can't admit they're hurt #also stubbornly not getting heals is both Not Good but also Really Good #the duality of man

[redorich]

For the canyon au, what would happen if one of the hermits got hurt during a scout? Like, if etho is out scouting, something happens, and he’s unable to message the hermits or get help. Would he be willing to be seen? Would any smpers besides Puffy help him?

Zedaph didn't mean to leave the canyon, honest! He was just looking for a sheep of his own for a completely ethical experiment involving pistons and a perfectly reasonable quantity of peanut butter, thank you very much. He wasn’t about to steal a sheep from someone else’s farm, and for some reason sheep don’t tend to spawn at bedrock level. So really, he had no choice!

Zedaph is rethinking a lot of his decisions. He’s also wondering if he left the jump-powered stove on. Then he remembers that it’s jump-powered, and as he is not currently jumping on it, it is most likely unpowered. Unfortunately, it seems as though Zedaph is going to be eating a lot of cold food for a while if he makes it out of this alive, because he’s not going to be jumping on anything with a broken leg.

Despite his punishment for trying to take a cross-section of something that he now knows is probably sentient (oops), he can’t help but want to go back, to learn more. What is the rate of growth of those red vines? Are they all from the same plant? Are they actually sentient, or is the crimson kudzu in possession of an automatic response to attempted harm? Did the vine know it was hitting him off a ledge which would break his leg, or did it just know “whack human away from vine”? Would the vines taste good in soup? Are they flammable? Could Zedaph theoretically knit a fashionable sweater out of them, and if so would the sweater be capable of independent movement?

He is torn from his musings of a wriggly evil sweater by another thrum of pain. He hisses. There’s... more blood than is advisable. Outside of his leg, that is. Inside his leg is likely less than the advisable amount of blood, and come to think of it, his head’s probably a bit empty as well, seeing as how he’s having so much trouble thinking straight-- well, straight for him. His jumps in logic are incomprehensible to most on a good day, but right now even he can’t follow his own thought process. What was he thinking about again?

Ah yes. The overwhelming pain from being yeeted off a ledge. Come to think of it, the ledge he fell off-- the one he’s sitting leaned against-- is shaped awfully unusually. It must be manmade. Whoever made this is not a good terraformer. Zedaph should bake Scar some cookies. Is Scar allergic to peanuts? Ow. Ow. Ow. Zedaph will need to borrow Impulse’s oven-- or he could set up his own oven with an armor stand that jumps for him?

“Hey there, who are you?” says a female voice. Zedaph looks up. He doesn’t have to look very far up.

Standing in front of him is a woman with a cool pirate-looking coat (red, of course; all self-respecting pirates wear red), with long fluffy hair like white wool and rainbow fringe! Oh, and she’s, like, half sheep or something. That’s cool too.

Wait. There’s something about sheep he’s forgetting... How could he have been so stupid?! He came to the surface in the first place in search of a sheep, and now he’s (kind of) found one!

The cool pirate lady says something, but Zedaph-- well, he does hear it, but it doesn’t process. Words are just mouth-sounds. He is in pain.

“Found a sheep,” he mumbles, “Come back to the canyon?”

“You’re hurt, man,” the sheep-pirate-lady says. She has pretty rainbow hair, and the white parts look like clouds.

She laughs. “Thanks.”

Clearly, this woman is a mind-reader! As well as a sheep. Really, two for the price of one. Zedaph isn’t quite sure what to do with a mind-reader, but his head will be much clearer and therefore able to dream up wacky hypotheses once he respawns--

He gasps, jerking forward and choking on his own breath when he remembers the cold truth. Xisuma won’t be able to respawn him, not for several days. Zedaph doesn’t want to spend that long in the void.

“Woah!” the woman exclaims, rushing to steady him. “You look pretty bad, dude. Let’s get you home or something. Where do you live?”

“Canyon,” Zedaph rasps. “I’m not supposed to tell you that, I don’t think. Can’t remember why.”

The nice woman goes very still. “Hey. My name’s Puffy. I’m gonna take you to the canyon. Do you think you can stand if I help you?”

“Puffy..?” Zedaph squints off into the middle distance, trying to remember something. “She’s the person who keeps coming back to that barrel, isn’t she?”

Puffy pulls Zedaph’s arm over her shoulder and gently pulls him up to his feet. “She is,” Puffy says softly.

“I hope she liked the enchanted diamond shears,” he mumbles.

“She did,” Puffy says softly. “She didn’t even know diamond shears were a thing.”

“I was going to make an emerald flint and steel,” Zedaph rambles, “but it turns out that items made of flint and steel aren’t conducive to being made of not-flint and not-steel."

"Who would have thought?" Puffy laughs, then trips over a vine. Zedaph makes a pained noise at the jostle to his leg, which is dragging a bit on the ground because Puffy is so much shorter than him. She notices this, and rethinks her strategy.

"At this rate, we'll never get back to the canyon," she gripes. "Climb on my back instead, I'll carry you."

Zedaph obliges, but warns, "Tango says I'm heavy.”

“I’m stronger than Tango, I’ll bet.”

The Hermit is actually a bit heavy, but this is a matter of pride now. And also, quite possibly a matter of urgency. The Hermit isn’t responding anymore. He’s still holding on, so he isn’t dead or completely unconscious; still, he’s not in a good state.

As soon as the elevator down to the bottom of the canyon comes into view, Puffy books it. Surely, in the canyon base, the Hermit will have healing potions? He (They? Multiple Hermits?) gave her a whole beacon, so obviously he/they are late-game enough to have plenty of potions.

Stepping into the elevator, Puffy presses the button, then puts her hand on the Hermit’s neck. It’s a bit of an awkward position, since his chin is hanging over her shoulder, but it makes her feel better to have a hand on his pulse. He makes a pitiful noise as the elevator descends.

“Easy there,” Puffy says, “you’re almost home.”

The moment the doors open, she ventures out into the village. The only safe place she knows is the barrel where she leaves her items for the Hermit(s), so she takes him there. Now that she’s looking, she spots shadows, eyes, movements, throughout the supposedly empty village. One such person comes out of the woodwork, sprinting.

“Zedaph!” exclaims a tall, musclebound man. His face is twisted in naked worry as he meets Puffy at the barrel, which she sets Zedaph down on.

The large man, who wears a black shirt with a creeper face on it (does that mean something, Puffy wonders?) scrutinizes the blond man on the barrel for a moment before springing into action, splashing potions and bits of lapis and-- holy shit, is that a Totem of Undying?! When the blond man, Zedaph, seems to come back to himself enough that he could reasonably eat a golden carrot with minimal choking hazard, the new man hands him one. Finally, he turns to Puffy.

“Thank you,” he says. The relief in his voice is tangible.

Puffy shifts awkwardly. “I was just doing the right thing. I noticed, uh, his bracelet.”

They both look to Zedaph’s wrist. It’s got a woven bracelet on it. The textile isn’t astounding, but the pattern on it is intricate. Puffy would know, she made it herself as a gift for the Hermit. As Puffy and the other Hermit look at each other, she realizes that he is also wearing something she made: a pair of fingerless gloves which are now stained with redstone dust.

He catches her staring. “We all have one-- oh, uh, my name’s Impulse, and this is Zedaph--”

“Impulse,” a new blond man hisses from behind the two. Puffy jumps. She didn’t hear him coming.

“Tango!” Impulse greets, suddenly nervous. Why a man as big as Impulse would be nervous when facing anyone, let alone a normal-looking guy like Tango, is beyond Puffy. Maybe Tango’s red eyes have some sort of significance?

“Impulse,” Tango repeats, looking around for anyone that isn’t a Hermit. “You’re not invisible.”

Impulse’s eyebrows draw together in a frown. “I had to see Zedaph.”

“Yeahhh,” Zedaph slurs.

“Besides, if we can trust any of the natives, it’s Puffy,” Impulse insists. He crosses his arms in what should be an intimidating display, but truthfully looks more like a pout.

“You know what Xisuma said,” Tango says. “I’m grateful to have Zedaph back, but...”

“Xisuma would agree with me,” Impulse says stubbornly.

Tango sighs explosively, full of nerves. “Alright, fine, can we at least get out of sight? Anyone could come wandering across the surface and spot us.”

“How many of you are there?” Puffy breathes. Everyone’s eyes snap to her.

“Twenty-four,” Zedaph says happily.

“Zedaph!” Tango admonishes.

Rolling his eyes, Impulse scoops Zedaph up off the barrel like he weighs nothing. He carries the dazed blond man down the path and into a cottage-style house. As Tango goes to follow, he catches Puffy’s eye.

“Sorry,” he says, “nothing personal. Just trying to avoid being explodificated, which means not being seen by the people who live on this server. You get it, yeah?”

He jogs off to catch up with Impulse, and Puffy hurriedly follows. Tango’s got a bracelet like Zedaph’s, but it’s one of the ones Puffy made out of different shades of red. She wonders if all the Hermits wear something she made.

The inside of the house is a bit cramped, but it’ll do. It’s got a bed, at least, so Zedaph’s got somewhere to keep his leg off the ground. This all feels surreal.

“So, uh...” Puffy says into the stuffy silence of the room. “How about that, uh, bedrock?”

Nobody has anything to say to that. Fuck.

Out of nowhere, yet another Hermit shows up. There’s a trapdoor in the wall that, now that she looks at it, Puffy realizes that Tango was hiding intentionally. That’s all gone to shit, though, because a man with white hair and a mask over his face peeks his head out from the hole in the wall.

“Hey guys, what--” The man takes a look around, spots Puffy, and freezes. “...On second thought, I’ll come back later.”

“Wait!” Impulse says to the man. “Get Xisuma, or at least tell him Puffy’s here if he can’t make the trip right now.”

“Karl thinks you’re Mothman,” Puffy blurts out to the white-haired man.

The man looks very self-satisfied for someone who’s only showing a quarter of his face. “Oh? Where does he live? For absolutely no reason, of course.”

“Etho...” Tango groans.

“Oh, alright, I’ll go get X.”

The man leaves. Oh boy, thinks Puffy, this is going to be interesting.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #captain puffy #zedaph #zedaphplays #impulsesv #tango tek #xisuma #xisumavoid #ethoslab #me.cpp #me.txt

[peanut-in-the-goal]

characters belong to @lumosinlove

Logan and Finn had been together for years. Still, neither of them were happy. Not as happy as they used to be. Some nights it felt like old times, when everything was new and fresh, that honeymoon period of their relationship back at Harvard.

The soft smiles and quiet laughter. The way their hands brushed together when they walked. They went on car rides, one of their favorite pastimes from when they wore the crimson colors that they had grown to love. Finn remembers what it was like those days. He and Logan were young and immature, in for it for the fun, only serious about the game.

They had a good rhythm about it. Any drama or arguments they left off the ice. The ice was their home, it always had been since they were young, at different rinks, in different cities. It was familiar, smooth, something that was reliable to not change too much.

The lines on the ice were recognizable anywhere, marking their territory. There was something about the adrenaline that raced through them when they stood on the ice, that feeling of carrying the puck at your stick and gliding along the ice.

It was magical. Something that you couldn’t forget no matter how long it’s been.

But Harvard was a long time ago, years ago. Some days it felt like they were treading on thin ice around each other, doing everything they could so the other wouldn’t just leave.

The love was still there, but it was fraying between them, like a blanket that was being ripped apart at the seams. It ripped slowly but they were never complete without the other half. No matter how hard they wanted it, this relationship wouldn’t save itself, the two of them were willing to put in the work, but even that couldn’t save them. They were losing each other.

Everything was tense and stressful, Finn couldn’t take it. He loved Logan, he knew he always would, but he couldn’t do this anymore. They couldn’t play this game anymore, acting like everything was fine when it so clearly wasn’t. He couldn’t bear to watch Logan slip away without trying to pull him back in.

But he had tried that already, hadn’t he? He wasn’t willing to go along with this anymore and work and work and work to fix things when Logan didn’t seem to care.

He wanted out. So he was going to call it off. He couldn’t put himself through this anymore, waking up and seeing Logan curled up on the other side of the bed when he used to be so close.

He was so tired of saying things were alright when they so clearly weren’t. So as much as it pained him to say it, it was over. It hurt to love someone who made no show of loving him back.

That plan didn’t last very long.

Finn had been trying to find the right time to tell Logan, the days seemed to just drag on. Soon days were becoming weeks. He was starting to second guess himself, so either do it now or do it never.

He chose the former.

Finn decided to just tell him, choke down his nerves and tell Logan that this wasn’t working out. He swallowed, clearing his throat to get Logan’s attention.

“Logan, um. I—” He stammered, before inwardly groaning at being cut off. That might’ve been a good thing.

The door swung open, coach walked in with this tall blonde following behind him. Finn inwardly made a mental note to befriend this dude. Sirius walked forward immediately, shaking his hand. The two exchanged words, but Finn wasn’t listening, too busy looking him over.

Coach’s hand was resting on his shoulder protectively as the kid got his first look at his teammates. His eyes brightened up when they landed on Finn and Logan. Finn noticed his hand go to his left wrist, tugging at his sleeve there a little, pulling it further down to cover his wrists. The outline of a bracelet was visible through the cuffed sleeves.

Finn tried to gather his words and think of a more private place to talk to Logan but had to shake the thoughts from his head when Dumo steered the blue-eyed kid towards them. When had Dumo taken the coach's spot in showing the new rookie around?

He throws on a smile, extending his hand before he can even reach them.

“Mon fils,” Dumo smiles, clapping the kid—who Finn has realized is really fucking tall— on the shoulder. “This is Leo,” he pronounces proudly.

Leo’s shy at first, he shares a timid little smile where his dimples make an appearance. Finn thinks that it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

He catches the fond look that’s already gleaming in Logan’s eyes. Maybe, just maybe, things were knitting back together slowly.

Maybe Leo would help them in more ways than one.

—

Leo was around more in the weeks that passed. The weeks quickly turned into months, and the three were practically inseparable on and off the ice.

The rest of the team saw it too. Finn and Logan were obviously happier than they’ve been in a long time. Logan laughed more, his guarded eyes that they were used to seeing all the time were finally coming down. Finn smiled again, he hadn’t done that in such a long time. Sure, he smiled for the camera and the team, but something was always off about it, forced even.

Now it wasn’t. Now his smile was the way it was when he first joined. Free. He wasn’t worried about anything or anyone, it was just him, Logan, and the team.

But now it wasn’t just them. Now there was Leo. With his baby blue eyes that could light up anyone’s day just looking at him. The boy seemed so innocent from the moment they met him. He had looked around the locker room in awe like he couldn’t believe that he had actually made it here.

That one of the dreams he worked so hard to achieve was actually successful in the end.

Dumo had practically adopted Leo as he had with Cap. Like he would have with Logan had he lived with the Dumais’ and not Finn. Although Pascal has practically adopted everyone on the team as one of his own didn’t he?

-

There was still tension between Finn and Logan, especially when they lived alone in the same apartment. They had Leo over as much as they could, but he could only be there so long before going back to Dumo’s.

The peace couldn’t hold forever, something was bound to happen and one of them was bound to snap.

Leo just wished he wasn’t there to hear it.

On his way to their small apartment, he heard the yelling. It was loud, it was mean. It was hurtful.

Leo knew that Logan and Finn didn’t have the best relationship when he joined the team. That was easy to pick up immediately. He just never thought that he would be the reason for their misery.

When he heard the yelling he didn’t expect his voice to come out of their mouths, his name was spoken like it was acid on their tongues. He wasn’t even there, he didn’t do anything, so why was he the one who was being blamed.

The yelling didn’t silence when he turned the key in the lock. If anything Logan and Finn didn’t even spare him a glance, like he wasn’t even there. They probably didn’t even notice he was there to be honest.

It was like the fraying thread finally snapped.

Logan was red in the face, yellingand hurling insults that he’d regret a few hours from now. But at the moment he was too driven by rage and insecurity to protect, protect, protect. Anything hurtful thrown at him, he’d have to throw back something worse.

Finn’s face was blotchy, tears of frustration rolling down his cheeks. His hands waved around in front of him, trying to convey the words he was too choked up to say.

The room was full of nothing but harsh breathing for a moment, neither having anything to say to the other. Their eyes bored into each other across the room.

Leo let the door slam shut behind him.

Logan and Finn both startled, turning to stare at him standing in the entryway.

The fight seemed to drain out of both of them at once. Logan’s shoulders drooped and he turned to look away from both of them. Finn stubbornly rubbed the tears from his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“What the fuck?”

There was a beat of silence, no one said anything and Leo didn’t think he was going to receive a response. He was going to follow up on his question, asking what happened, why his name was getting thrown around and-

“I’m sorry…” Logan sounded small, like he was the one crying and not Finn.

Any questions Leo had were stored away for later.

“It was bound to happen.”

Suddenly Leo felt like he was intruding. They invited him over but he wasn't sure if he should be there, not when they were having a moment. Not when it looked like they may be finally healing.

“It’s not going to work out,” Finn continued. “This,” he gestures between the three of them, “isn’t going to work if me and you didnt work, Lo.”

Maybe not, Leo thought.

“I know.”

It was true, Leo knew. The two of them had had a rocky relationship since he joined the team.

But Leo thought he could make a difference, he thought he was enough to try and save their relationship.

He also loved them, he wanted this, he wanted to fight for them. He wanted them to stay.

But he also can’t be the only one who wants this to work, they all need to put in work for this relationship. He can’t be the only one pulling his weight.

Sometimes it’s better to save your breath. That’s what his father told him when he was younger and had just lost a friend dude to a silly argument. Some people are better to let go, they’ll hold you back and won’t make you happy. Always choose to be happy Leo, make the decision of fighting and giving up. Because giving up does not make you weak, some of the strongest people I know are the strongest because they gave up.

Leo really hoped he was right.

“I guess I should be going then.”

Finn and Logan nodded sadly, and Leo felt something in him break a little more. He turned and walked back out the door he came from.

Leo remembers crying on the way home. He hadn’t driven to their house, so the walk home felt like it took forever and no time at all.

#oknutzy #oknutzy angst #angst #peanut writes #sweater weather #leo knut #finn ohara #logan tremblay #lumosinlove #IM BACK WITH MORE ANGST FOR YA