#Polaris Replacement Parts

[polaris-australis]

WIP Update - Replace Their Bones with Doll Parts

I've decided to try to write a more coherent post on some of the recent progress on the novel. For those who read my intro post, I did change the pronoun in the title (I can't decide on if I should use "he" or "they" solely because, well, Cyril's not really a he by the end of the novel).

I did make some changes to a chapter I talked about in an earlier post (Anatomy Practice), but for this update, I'm going to focus on some overarching stuff + a later chapter that I worked on recently.

I will, though, reiterate this paragraph because I'm obsessed with it:

I'll talk about it another time, because of FUCK does this need a longer separate post (I call it the I guess thematic thesis of the novel in a way?? in how it establishes a LOT of Cyril's mental state throughout the novel and gives us the starting point from which he somehow manages to keep going downhill).

Immaculate Perpetuation

The chapter title comes from two terms relating to the Virgin Mary (or versions of the Virgin): immaculate conception, and Our Lady of Perpetual Health. Except, a big thing in this book is continuing cycles of generational abuse as well as toxic dynamics, so I sort of mashed things together into this.

To make it clear again in this post, Cyril's mixed: his father is a rich white guy, his mother is Latinx (Central American specifically, the country isn't specified for reasons so I won't say it but for reference my parents are Salvadoran). Cyril looks like his mother a LOT. She also had significant issues physically and mentally during and after pregnancy. All of this has led to them having an extremely strained relationship where they hardly interact.

Anyways. Cyril imagines whether or not she wanted to drown him during baptism (TW for imagined infanticide I guess??)

To be very clear, this didn't happen. He's spiraling.

The first sentence references a (still not quite edited) part about her ignoring him when he cried as a baby, as told to him by his older half-brother.

At the end of this chapter, he has a dream about drowning in a womb.

(Fun fact: I started editing this section during @coffeeandcalligraphy's livestream the other day. I asked for permission before tagging. If you read this Rachel, I deeply apologize but figure you may appreciate the disaster main character content lmao.)

Lines that I'd like to also mention:

His skin raisins, his insides burning.

Trying to play with verbs more? This isn't my best, just one I appreciate.

He is a body and he is a wound.

I was going to post that whole paragraph, but I'm not super happy with it yet.

Also, this isn't part of this chapter, but it's got a similar theme.

He's my babygirl.

I'm going to wait since this post is long enough, but other excerpts I definitely want to share include the vampire dream (it's relevant I swear) and possibly some of the more religious imagery, in which I cannot figure out if Cyril is comparing himself to Jesus, Judas, or the snake. Or all three. Genuinely would love to make a uquiz out of this.

[nixmori]

Astarion x Wren

The Lovers Tarot: upright

A fun pass time for me is always thinking which tarot card fits the characters at different parts of the story, and the primary themes that govern them.

Wren (my primary Tav) is the reversed lovers card for much of her early story/game. She longs for connection but is met with a cold, detached world, resulting in mental imbalance and the absence of self-love. She’s lonely and insecure, fearing rejection. Her closest relationship up until the events of the game was with her patron—the capricious (but not malicious) Archfey Kol. He offered her power and the pretense of connection, but never anything real.

For Astarion, while I think another card represents himself (I’m keeping that to myself because I have another art planned around it!) I feel his struggle aligns well with the devil card. He is, of course, more than figuratively shackled to Cazador, but also to the years of abuse, trauma, and his own demons born of that time. The shackles depicted in that card are loose—showing they can be broken should the person choose to be free of their demons.

The lovers and the devil cards are mirrors of one another. The lovers shows security and balance, but also the temptation of the fruit and the snake that could lead to back down the road to self destruction. Alternatively, they are a reminder of what it took to come back from that to a harmonious state.

In my interpretation of The Lovers here, I’ve retained the shackles from Astarion’s devil card. He’s chosen a new path—one where he can be true to himself. The scars will always be there, but the chains are broken. I’ve retained the forbidden fruit as Wren’s crown, with the leaves too represent the personal growth of both characters while the berries (fruit) represent the temptations that would have lead them down a very different path (which I will leave out due to spoilers!)

Fun fact, the Angel in the original card art is Raphael! Very different from everyone’s favorite demon in the game. This Raphael represents physical and emotional healing. I didn’t think an Angel would fit the aesthetics of what I wanted so I replaced him with the moon and Polaris. The first reason has to do with Astarion’s spawn ending so I won’t go into it. The second is taken from the moon card itself, where the moon reveals one’s true self. Paired with Polaris, it represents the moon’s light as a guide, as both embark on their long journey of healing. It won’t be an overnight venture—something that can be fixed by a single entity, so the moon as a guide works better in this context, I believe.

As a personal addition, Wren holds a few nerine lilies—a flower that has been associated with freedom since Ancient Greece. They also symbolize unity, and feelings straight from the heart, which felt appropriate for a relationship where both characters started as strangers to emotional intimacy. (I used to be a florist, I HAVE to have my flower symbolism)

Finally, the clouds at the bottom started life as flames, which in the og tarot card represent passion. As the art took form though, they took on the appearance of smoke/clouds. I could have made it more flame-like but I really liked how this looked, but I also think it fits the slow burn the story ended up taking. There’s a fire, somewhere—but it isn’t the most important thing here.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading my essay. I hope it was coherent!

[curses-of-the-void]

Stars Shining - Derek Hale

Fandom(s): Teen Wolf

Wordcount: 1188

Warning(s): Discussions of death, lots of talking, kisses

Summary: Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you.

Soft jazz plays from her stereo in the corner of the room as she lounges in her bed, book held aloft as she clenches her pencil between her teeth, trying to find the part that she wanted to underline again, when a tapping sound at her window startles her. Rolling over onto her stomach, she narrows her eyes at the window pane as a tapping starts on the window once more. Sliding off the edge of her bed, she grabs the bat at her feet, inching towards the window, and she flinches as the tap of a stone on window makes her startle, before she frowns.

Unlocking the window, she slides it up with the bat still in her hand, dodging another rock as she pokes her head out the window, pausing at sight of Derek Hale standing at the base of the tree outside the Stilinksi house. Frowning, she sets her bat to the side, stepping back as soon as Derek scales the outside of the house, before he leans against the wall beside the window, crossing his arms over his chest as she drops onto her bed.

"What were you hoping to do with that?" Derek asks, jerking his head to the bat on the floor.

"You have claws, I have a bat."

"What is with you Stilinksis and your answers? It's almost like you and Stiles are the same person." Derek says, and she laughs, running her fingers through her hair as she shrugs.

"He's my little brother." She explains, picking up her book from where she had set it, pencil plucked from the spine, where she placed it to mark her place. "What's up? You've never come here like this, before."

"I just needed an escape." He shrugs. "Being alone with Peter can be draining."

"So, you thought I was a better choice?" She laughs, laying back on her bed as she folds her book shut, tossing it onto her bedside table.

"You're calm... mellow." Derek answers.

"You mean boring?" She sits up, carding her fingers through her hair to push it back from her face. "You can say it. I'm boring."

"Since we're saying it, yeah. You are boring. But, maybe boring is what I need right now." She laughs again, leaning back in the sheets as she crosses her legs, staring up at the star-studded ceiling.

"When I was younger, I was never boring." She admits, fingers gripping the sheets to pull at the loose strings, a habit she's always had- it drove her dad nuts when she started doing it, because she would pluck a hole in them, causing it to unravel further, so he'd constantly have to replace them- He never said anything though, because it only started after Claudia died. "I wanted to travel, and do stuff, and now I'm stuck in my hometown, in my childhood bedroom, no less, because I can't leave my brother to run around like an idiot, because his idiot best friend became a werewolf!" She laughs at herself, pressing a hand to her forehead, surprised when Derek sits on the edge of the bed.

"What did you want to do? Where did you want to travel?" He asks, her lips spreading into a smile as she looks up at the blue of her ceiling.

"I wanted to go to the mountains. To Colorado. I wanted to live in a cabin, and walk amongst the stars and trees."

"You can do that, here."

"At the added risk of being bitten, ate, or scratched."

"You could get that anywhere. Especially with bears." He chuckles, and she slaps him lightly on the arm.

"Look," She points at the painted blue ceiling, the stars that stick to the ceiling are meant to glow, but the lamplight is glowing now, so they won't light up. He shuffles down to lay on the bed beside her, and she smiles over at him "There's ursa minor, or The Little Bear, or the little dipper. You see at the tip of the tail there, it's Polaris, and then bup bup bup bup bup!" She points to the cluster of stars, five away from Polaris. "That is Cepheus. That star over there is Navi, and then Shedar, along with those two, it makes up the constellation Cassopeia."

"You really like the stars enough to name em?"

"I used to go outside at night, with my mom, and we'd lay under the stars, and she'd tell me stories about them. Those over there, is The Pleiades, or the Seven Sisters." She bites her bottom lip in thought. "The Pleiades were the seven daughters of Atlas, a Titan that has forever been cursed to hold up the sky. Zeus turned the sisters into stars to protect them from Orion, the hunter, but one of the sisters fell in love with a mortal, and went into hiding. That's why there are only six visible in the night sky, now."

"So, you know the stories too?" Derek asks, and she sits up, smirking at him.

"There are thousands of legends. But, I prefer the Greek ones. I have a passion for mythology." She shrugs as he looks up at the ceiling again.

"So, you studied the night sky enough, to memorize the layout of the constellations, and replicate it on your ceiling. Although, condensed." Derek frowns for a second. "But, this isn't the sky that's outside your house, is it?" She frowns then, looking away as she rubs her hands on her pant legs, and he sits up. "What?"

"No, it's uh..." She looks back at him with a sad smile. "It's the sky outside the hospital." Understanding flashes in his eyes, and he nods, reaching out to wrap his arm around her shoulders, surprising her when he drags her in for a hug.

"I'm sorry." She lets out a wet laugh, sounding shocked and hollow. "I am."

"I know." She pulls back, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I just find it ironic that you're comforting me. Yeah, I lost my mom, but you lost... everyone." She strokes his cheek as he looks down at her, his eyes flicking between her own. She sucks in a sharp gasp when he leans in, kissing her, and she hums, eyes fluttering shut as she leans into it, kissing him back. "W-Why did you do that?" She murmurs, once they part, and Derek looks down at her, a troubled furrow to his brow as he sweeps his thumb across her chin.

"Because... you're beautiful, and kind, and gentle, and you light up when you talk about things you love, and... I couldn't resist." He leans in to kiss her again, and she sighs as she leans into him, hands clutching his shirt as he tangles his own into her hair.

"You're lucky, Derek Hale."

"Lucky?" He breathes, nose brushing against her own, and she peers uo at him with wide eyes.

"I don't normally kiss on the first date."

[karinadele]

Polaris

Pharma x Reader

ooc as usual...

Warnings: Angst, destructive behavior, suicidal ideation (on pharma's part), open ending

"How did it ever come to this?"

He told himself. Feeling his vocal processors lock up and he chokes on his own feelings. Gritting his denta until he knows it'll bend. Lubricant welling up in his optics as he trembles in his berth. The only comfort is the blanket that you arm knitted for him. A red and white fluffy yarn, laced with blue, with his red cross embroidered along the corners.

He misses you so much. Desperately searching for the solace of your comfort. Long has the stupidity of your behaviors left his processors. Now replaced with completely obsessive thoughts of longing for you. It hurts. It's eating him alive, a pain worse than a million scraplets jumping on him. He's a medic yet doesn't know what to do.

He would brush it off as usual if he could, but now it's no longer possible. As if his hardlines have been rewired with nothing but data of you. You've somehow crawled into his motherboard and replaced every component with nothing but pieces labeled with you. Hard drive, memory, even his audials. He thinks, feels, hears you.

With what sanity he has left he throws a fist at the wall, denting the metal wall of the clinic.

Hearing your stupid chirps, your ridiculously lovely voice, how you're always making stupid poses to cheer everyone up.

How you told him it's okay to be tired, to want to give up, and that it's acceptable to just throw it away and be done. He never even allowed himself to entertain the thought of giving up. Only always pushing forward to continue in his suffering a guilt ridden lifestyle to maintain Delphi. Every cog he harvested for Tarn was a reminder that he's an absolute terrible bot.

Overtime, those thoughts have left him, and procedures became of second nature to him. Just another day on the job. Another job to be done so him and Delphi can continue to survive.

That one evening in the blizzard of Messatine, he was dusting off his servos of his remorse as he strolled out the front doors. Almost missing you at first, until he saw a cloud of smoke wafting over his way. A human. Crouched and leaning by the wall of the facility as you puff on your cigarette, lazily drawing nothings in the snow.

When you come to notice him, you hitched a breath and choked on your drag, falling on your ass into the snow. You're used to the bots, being part of the crew on the Lost Light and accustomed to their shenanigans. What you didn't expect was for them to forget about you after pit stopping on Messatine. Now you're faced with a glaringly intimidating seeker.

Originally Pharma wanted nothing to do with you. Toss you out into the cold and let you freeze. Yet your snarkiness and quick thinking won out in the end. You read him like an open book. He always thought he was a complex character, but perceived simple by others. Yet within cycles you've found all his weakness. His need to control, his desperate attempts to hold himself together because he has no choice. Long gone was the smirk on his faceplate, only to be replaced with vulnerability and an unexplainable rage.

Unable to throw you out as you would be a liability if any information of his personality and actions make it out, he begrudgingly kept you. Merely as a pet at first. It wasn't until Ambulon came back freezing from the cold that you spent nights arm knitting bot sized blankets for everyone. The Lost Light might have been warm, but not Messatine. Individually tailored to the 3 medics residing in Delphi, Pharma had no use for such things. Tossing it on the edge of his berth to be forgotten. Little did he know how it would have been his only connection to you.

"It's okay to give up you know. To want death, to want everything to end." You chirped up in your usual cheery voice, although with a tinge of emotion.

Was it from personal experience?

Spending all his time saving lives, and killing them, yet wishing for escape for himself. This caught him off-guard.

"I'm not condoning it, and I will miss you if you do, but I'm here to validate your feelings. You're struggling and no one has told you that you're allowed to. So I will." You tell him as you rock back and forth on your feet, arms held together in the back.

Pharma didn't know how much these words would have affected him. Now, with you gone, he wretchedly clung onto that memory. Replaying it over and over, until that's the only thing in his processor. First Aid and Ambulon noticed too, watching him fall into despair clutching onto the knitted blanket that they too, each have. A lingering parting gift from you.

-----

A/N: there's no happy ending for him, he suffers dying with transformation rust or dies ripping out his own spark ig. I wish him the best. Perhaps reader will come back... hold on strong Pharma..

Ig tell me if u want more.... i personally hate leaving angst open ended...

[is-the-isat-pic-cute]

Btw if you're wondering why "Saffron" took over the Siffrin part from Polaris, it's because Polaris went and got herself craftsick. Again. And so a replacement was needed.

(Polaris has one Craft skill that is extremely abusable. Sometimes he abuses it and then faces The Consequences.)

[thorias]

Since season 2 looks to be so jam-packed with stuff, I thought it would be fun to try to break down the episodes using the stories continuing from season 1 and the spoilery bits we learned from D23 and... yeah, there's a lot here.

I'm just making educated guesses right now, but I could easily see this happening in the show.

2x01 - Ancient Egypt. 'Rise of Apocalypse' adaptation. The team helps En Sabah Nur defeat Rama-Tut and Rogue makes her Faustian deal with him to get Remy resurrected. Bishop shows up at the end to collect everyone.

2x02 - The Future. 'Adventures of Cyclops and Phoenix' adaptation. Scott and Jean spend some time raising teenage Nathan and are warned of the horrors that would be unleashed upon the world if Apocalypse were to ever rise to power. Bishop and the others show up at the end and the X-men return to the present.

2x03 - Present day. Bottle episode focusing on Forge's makeshift team, presumably consisting of some combination of Cable, Havok, Polaris, Iceman, Colossus, Archangel, Shadowcat and Emma Frost. They deal with the continuing fallout of Genosha/Asteroid M/the EMP and the ensuing chaos as Graydon Creed is poised to win the presidential election. Apocalypse begins positioning his chess pieces. The new Four Horsemen (let's say Deathbit, Madelyne/Pestilence, Shaw/War and Dazzler/Famine) make their first appearance and give the team a thrashing. The X-men return from the past/future at the end.

2x04 - The X-men are reunited, get caught up on everything they missed while they were gone and find Jubilee wherever she is. Magneto attempts to mend fences with Lorna, but it goes horribly since he did after all try to wipe out all life on Earth while she was, ya' know, on Earth. She doesn't forgive him, but convinces him to turn himself over to the authorities and answer for his crimes. Mags' second trial goes much worse for him than the first one did and he's thrown in a plastic prison like in X2; the last we see of him for a while (probably wishful thinking on my part, but you never know). Rogue leaves to search for Deathbit.

2x05 - Rogue confronts Deathbit. It goes horribly. She tries to absorb the Death persona out of him like she once did for Archangel, but Apocalypse has accounted for her powers this time and Deathbit is immune to them now. She's forced to fight him, shocked by Deathbit's ferocity and resentment toward her and not yet understanding what she needs to do to break Apocalypse's hold on Remy. The battle ends in a stalemate. Rogue is left confused and heartbroken as Deathbit escapes.

2x06 - Wolverine spotlight. Logan travels to Japan, searching for a way to get his adamantium back (I don't like this happening so soon, but we can assume from the D23 sneak peek that it'll probably go this way). He seeks out Lady Deathstrike since her father created the adamantium bonding process and has to fight Sabretooth for it.

2x07 - Nightcrawler spotlight. With the election looming, Kurt confronts his half-brother Graydon. It goes horribly. Mystique reveals herself, having infiltrated Graydon's campaign months earlier. Kurt tries to make peace with his family, but neither of them are interested in peace. The episode ends with Mystique assassinating Graydon and her continued allegiance to Apocalypse is revealed. She then takes Graydon's form and replaces him, meaning Apocalypse would control the White House if Mystique/Creed wins the election.

2x08, 9 & 10 - On the eve of the election, Apocalypse makes his move, committing acts of terrorism, giving Mystique/Creed more ammunition for the anti-mutant campaign Creed was running on, which Apocalypse has been secretly fomenting in order to provoke a human/mutant war. Xavier aides Rogue as she faces Deathbit again, allowing her to confront Remy on the psychic plane. He recreates the gala scene from 'Remember It' in Deathbit's mind, so Rogue can undue that little blunder by dancing with Remy this time and finally confessing her true feelings. Remy learns that Rogue had chosen him, not Magneto, and that she really does love Remy, which gives him the motivation to fight off the Deathbit persona. Meanwhile, the X-men battle the remaining Horsemen and Apocalypse. They're losing badly until a re-adamantiumed Wolverine, Xavier and Rogue, with Gambit, now free of Apocalypse's influence, arrive to turn the tide. Poccy is defeated, and with his machinations revealed, the public is swayed and President Kelly is re-elected.

Afterward, Gambit is back with the team, though he's left with trauma and PTSD from his death and resurrection. Xavier and the X-men are lauded as heroes in the media, so public perception is back on their side and things are looking up for a change... but unbeknownst to everyone, something is not right with Xavier as we get our first hint of Onslaught for season 3.

I think this accounts for every storyline we've confirmed so far, (or most of them at least) but that's just the stuff we've heard about. Who knows what else they've got in store for us that they haven't revealed yet. I'm crossing my fingers that we get longer episodes in s2 because they're definitely going to need more time to cover all this.

[silent-sanctum]

✧ Polaris ✧ - Jotaro x Reader

PART 10: LOYALTY

— The previous parts of the fic can be found in the pinned post of my profile. Hope you enjoy! —

word count: 7.3k

After days of traveling, Egypt was finally beneath their feet and they made it despite the many inconveniences on the way, namely the vehicular accidents, Stand encounters, or both.

Including their most recent one involving the now-sunken submarine and a metal-shifting Stand. But none of that matters now when everyone in the Crusaders made it on to land, no longer needing to deal with the enemy user of High Priestess after her teeth got beat in thanks to Star Platinum’s rapid, hard-hitting fists.

A nearby town by the sea made it more convenient for them to stop by and get their bearings to prepare them for the remainder of their mission.

It was there that Polnareff and Kakyoin were able to gather more stuff needed for their trip, for Avdol to get into contact with the Speedwagon Foundation regarding “back-up” being ready to help the team out, for Mr. Joestar and Jotaro to find a rental service for a jeep capable of traversing the desert, and for you to communicate with some of the locals to learn about the typical weather conditions, nearby cities, unusual sightings, and possible pit stops that the guys might need to rest.

By the time the transport was good to go and the necessities packed in the trunk, there was nothing that could stop them from proceeding onward.

It was Polnareff’s turn to man the wheel with everyone else settling to sit on their spots. “Hold up everyone,” Mr. Joestar spoke up, hopping out of the jeep and rushing over to the nearby telephone booth. “I got to make a quick phone call to Suzy. Me falling conscious was not exactly reassuring for her poor heart.”

You followed after the old man with the intention of calling your uncle. Considering the number of stressful events that happened for the past weeks, hearing his voice could soothe the lingering feeling of homesickness at the back of your mind. Though as you got a few steps in to Mr. Joestar’s direction, a hand placed itself on your shoulder.

With one look over your shoulder, you found yourself unable to contain a smile as you stared up at Jotaro standing behind you, falling in line to use the booth. “Well well~ missing someone are we?”

No response as you’d expect, though the pointed stare and red-tipped ears were enough giveaways that he missed his doting mother.

“Hm?… Really? What for?…. Alright sweetie.” Mr. Joestar turned to his grandson with a hand muffling the receiver. “Suzy wants to talk to you.”

A quick glint of surprise flashed in the delinquent’s eyes, not expecting a talk with his grandmother. Though, they did converse for a brief moment as the old man’s replacement before the submarine lost all its connections. Maybe, that’s why his grandma wanted a form of closure from her grandson.

And you can tell that he saw his grandmother with complete respect. There’s that characteristic softening of his eyes when he listened to her talk, the way he never raised his voice once during the whole conversation, and just like whenever he responded to you after that night, there’s a faint pink to his ears as if he feels a bit bashful from the support of the elderly woman.

His gaze free from tension was always a nice sight.

Their talk didn’t last long, most likely just her checking up on her husband and grandchild. Jotaro placed the phone back into its holder on the booth but didn’t let go. There was contemplation in the way he just stood there, not wanting to move away. Did he want to call Holly?

It wouldn’t surprise you considering he actively chose to embark on this dangerous journey to save her life. It would only be normal if he began to worry about her worsening condition. “Do…” You started, letting his attention draw to you. “Do want to call someone else? I can ask Mr. Joestar if you’re too embarrassed to do it.”

You knew he wanted to say “yes” in the long pause in between you, but with a deep sigh, he tipped his hat over his face. “It’s fine.” She’s going to be fine. You assumed as much and you let it at that.

“If you say so. Though, it’s my turn to use the booth.”

Jotaro nodded and stepped aside, standing nearby even as Mr. Joestar had already retreated to the jeep with the others. You clawed through the depths of your mind for that string of numbers you saved months ago. It was told to be a small “cure for homesickness” as someone said.

Eventually, you managed to find the right number and the phone begun to ring. In a minute, a kind-hearted voice you haven’t heard for a while picked up:

“Hello?”

“H-Hi pops…”

“Oh Y/N! It’s been a while since you’ve called! How are you? Have you been adjusting well over there?”

You bit your lip, holding back the tears building up in your eyes. Just like how the delinquent had missed his mother, it just struck you that you had also missed your adopted family back in your hometown.

“There were a couple of crappy stuff that happened, but I’m doing good I guess,” you replied.

“That’s a relief sweetheart. How about… uhm… your nightly terrors? Are you holding up?”

You didn’t want to dump him with the fact you broke down that one time. You didn’t want to worry the poor man when all you wanted was to hear him for a bit. “They’re… a lot but nothing I can’t handle.”

“I know you told us that it’s not necessary and all, but that always remember that if you’re feeling lonely, your auntie and I are always available, alright?”

“Oh but I’m not alone. I made a couple of friends for the past few months here.”

“That’s great news! Have they been treating you right?”

“They’re nice and fun to be around. I’ve gotten close to them a lot…” Warmth sprung to your cheeks with the next words that came next. “Some closer than others.”

Out of the corner of your eye, the delinquent’s face ducked away with his hat serving as the only cover for his equally tinted cheeks. “I would love to meet your new friends when we visit. Don’t forget to remind me!”

You chuckled. “I will.”

“I believe it’s time for you to go.”

“Yeah…”

“We love you Y/N. You take care of yourself over there.”

An abrupt honk startled you from the call and with one more look back, you smiled as the Crusaders began to call for you and Jotaro with the latter not budging from his spot, patiently waiting for you to finish. “You can trust me on that, pops.”

---

You’ve made a lot of progress driving across the sandy landscape when the sound of whirling blades drew close to the group from above.

Looking upwards, a helicopter with the Foundation’s logo painted on its side greeted the Crusaders. This must be that back-up Mr. Joestar had been talking about.

“Wow would you look at that, they actually did send back-up so far deep into this trip,” Polnareff said, low-key dripping with snark. “Could’ve been earlier I’m just saying.”

“It’s better than nothing, I guess. You don’t have to whine about it,” Kakyoin answered back.

Regardless, Polnareff put the engine to a halt and with the jeep parked, everyone got out of the vehicle the same time the flying craft made its landing. “Why can’t we just board that thing and fly ourselves over to where we need to be, old man?” Jotaro asked through the gusts of sand blowing through their faces.

“As much of an appealing offer that is, we have to consider that there’s too much of us. We might end up being too heavy for the craft and besides,” you said back at him. “They’re not Stand users. It’s better not to place more risk onto others.”

“Just a bit of a warning,” Mr. Joestar spoke up. “The guy’s a bit of a handful. That’s why it took so long for him to get here.” At the mention, you side-eyed the Frenchman just to see him reel back from his whining from earlier.

Though Avdol seemed to know who exactly the old man was talking about at the aforementioned warning. “Are you really considering taking him with us? Won’t his presence just hold us back?”

“As Kakyoin said, it’s better than nothing. Just be careful around him.”

“You both saying that gives off the impression that our new pal over there is a demon spawn from hell,” you retorted. “A back-up is a back-up. No matter how annoying the guy is, we’re just going to have to suck it up and deal with it.”

“Easier said than done Y/N. I’ve met him before and he’s… a lot. Being the user of The Fool, might cause a lot of inconveniences.”

“Look, if he is as handful as you two have been saying so far, then I’ll make sure he complies with us, alright?” you sighed. “Nothing’s more irritating than seeing unnecessary rebellion when we got dire things to do.”

As much as your words sent some kind of reassurance to the two adults in the group, Polnareff snickered in the sidelines. “I don’t know about you, but The Fool sounds like a stupid name in my opinion.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that. Don’t judge a book by its cover, Pol. “You should consider this a blessing that he’s on our side. You can’t beat him.” Avdol said for you.

And just like their heated argument from India, Polnareff didn’t take his response lightly. He marched over to the Egyptian, grabbed his robes, and said, “I suggest watching your mouth if you know what’s good for you.”

“Pol,” you said, curt. “What did I say about taking things personally?”

The Frenchman spluttered, letting go of Avdol to face you. “But you heard him! He assumed I was weak and-”

“What did I say, Polnareff?” you repeated, this time with enough grit and punctuation on each word to drive your point across your companion’s emotional skull. “Or do you want one of us to nearly die again because of your stubbornness?”

Flustered at this point, he let his pride dwindle a bit and stepped away from Avdol, mumbling incoherent words with crossed arms. In some way of easing him, you placed a hand behind his back in a silent way of saying “thanks.”

Just then, the door opened for the pilot to step down and greet the team with formality. “Mr. Joestar, good to see you.”

“Thank you for bringing him here. It must have been rough.”

“I assume none of you is the alleged Stand user?” you commented before Jotaro could make one. “You both seem fairly polite.”

“You’re right ma’am. He’s there in the back.” One of them walked to the passenger’s door to open it, revealing nobody but a dark blanket covering the seat.

“Hey now, quit joking around you two! What’s the deal? This guy’s short or something?” The Frenchman laughed, smacking the fabric, only to pull back with sticky saliva on his hands. “Ugh what is this goop?”

The pilot responded in a panic. “Hey! Stop that! The ride here was rough so he’s in a sour mood!”

“Pol, you better get back here right now.”

“What’s the big deal? I’m just asking where-” Before he could continue, the blanket rustled violently and something jumped out of the seat it occupied.

A Boston Terrier. A dog.

What the fuck?

“The dog is the-” Kakyoin started, equally surprised as the rest of you, except for Avdol and Mr. Joestar.

“Mhm. His name’s Iggy and he’s the user of The Fool,” he said even as the canine continued to wreak havoc on Polnareff’s silver up-do with relentless biting and scratching. “He’s got the habit of ripping hairs off of people’s heads and to be honest, I don’t know where he’s from. It was Avdol who found him in the streets of New York.”

“And the fella also has a tendency to-” Not that his sentence matters when in the middle of Iggy’s manic biting, he stopped to let out one loud fart straight onto Pol’s face. “Do that.”

You didn’t know if it was the stinky gas or just your general tiredness in dealing with a 24-year-old man like a child, but you merely watched as the said adult drew out Silver Chariot to attack a small, rabid creature. As you would’ve expected, Iggy returned the favor with his own Stand- an entity made entirely of sand, forming together to become a larger mechanical canine.

The fight didn’t last long though. One minute you saw Polnareff sending Chariot to stab Iggy’s Stand and in the next, he’s back writhing on the sandy ground with an aggravated, feral dog chewing his stylized hair into a bird’s nest.

“Have you brought his favorite treats?” You turned to Avdol asking the pilot who nodded, reaching into his pocket to bring out a box full of what appeared to be… gum?

The sound of the packets inside were enough to alert Iggy and spare the remaining hair left on his victim. “Of course. We wouldn’t be able to bring him here otherwise.” With the box now in Avdol’s hand, the dog leaped out of Pol’s body and rushed over to him, giddy and possibly greedy.

Knowing how Iggy works by now, you could tell he wasn’t only after the single stick of gum the Egyptian was holding up. By the time the terrier reached a few feet away from him, one of Silent Sanctuary’s strips zipped past you to snag the box of gum out of Avdol’s hold before the canine could.

“If I learned anything from the orangutan, the dog’s got personality too.” You had the gum in your possession- coffee flavored of all things considered- and Iggy’s attention focused onto you next, growling. “You want the whole thing?”

You didn’t expect any response from him but an attempt to bite your arm. You sidestepped the second the dog charged at you. Iggy turned back, now frustrated. “Do you want the box or do you want me throw it all far away?”

Demonstrating, you let Sanctuary wrap itself around the box and prepared to launch it off into a distance. You heard the dog yelp and sands shifting violently.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Kakyoin said, nearly off-balanced by the moving ground. “Can you just let him have it?”

“The Fool’s emerging again!” Mr. Joestar called out after him.

You ignored their pleas, focusing on your current task.

“Try intimidating all you want but your sand can’t hurt me or this cloth right here,” you said, patting the taut fabric beside you. “So, what’s it gonna be- a whole box of delicious coffee gum? Or none at all?” You didn’t waste anymore time as Sanctuary moved an inch-

Then Iggy whimpered, letting the sands rest with surrender. A wave of relieved sighs swept the air from the Crusaders and the pilots. “You done fussing?” The terrier got on his belly, head bowed. You huffed and approached him with the gum still inside your Stand’s wrap just to make sure he’s not pretending.

“Good boy.” You got onto one knee to level yourself with the growling dog. “I can still launch this to god knows where so you ready to hear me out?”

Iggy nodded, still sulking.

“I’ll give you this whole box now just like you want but,” you said. “What if I told you instead that Mr. Joestar over there will buy you a year’s worth of coffee gum as a reward for you helping us finish this mission?” At that suggestion, Iggy’s ears perked up and his tail wagged with interest.

“Hey now! When did I say that?”

“Do you want our back-up to actually back us up or not?” You quipped at the old man with a smile dripping with snark. And Mr. Joestar went silent, scratching his beard knowing you had a point. Beside him, you could’ve sworn you saw Jotaro’s lip curl ever so slightly. “Exactly.”

You turned back to Iggy, pleased he didn’t make any attempt attacking Sanctuary while you were distracted. “How about it? Ready to help us?” You slowly brought up a fist and with a bark, he raised a paw to place on top of it. “And I expect you to actually help us. No free riding just for the treats, got it? I’ll be watching.”

Iggy barked in agreement.

“Here you go. As promised.”

Sanctuary stretched herself to the terrier, unwrapping the cloth to drop the gum in front of him. Immediately, Iggy pounced on it and began to gnaw on both the coffee treats and the carton they were in.

“Unbelievable,” Avdol said in awe as you walked to where the guys were, dusting sand off your skirt and hands. “You got him to cooperate for the time being.”

“Classic conditioning does wonders to feral animals when done right,” you shrugged. “That and I’m used to talking to stray animals. Being a new citizen to the country can be boring at times.”

With the new ally dilemma resolved, everyone returned to replenishing their stash with medical supplies, additional food and clothing, tracking gears, and a brand new prosthetic hand for Mr. Joestar. In addition, the pilot handed over a camera for the old man’s Stand to utilize with convenience.

But having a camera wasn’t exactly for Stand reasons alone. “Hey everyone! Why don’t we take a group photo while we have this bad boy still in one piece?”

Never wanting to miss the opportunity, all the Crusaders agreed to it wholeheartedly. With the camera in the pilot’s hand, everyone gathered to one spot and got into position- with Polnareff, Mr. Joestar, and Iggy in front, and Kakyoin, Avdol, Jotaro, and you in the back.

The shutter went off and a polaroid photograph was made for the memories.

“Hey Mr. Joestar? Can I borrow that one second?” Before he could reply, you went to grab the device off the pilot’s hand, hurrying back to stand beside Jotaro, slightly caught off guard at the sudden pictorial. “Would you mind if I…you know…”

He hesitated a bit, but after one long stare-off between his borderline glare and your eager gaze, he gave in. “Alright… good grief.”

Excited, you got a bit closer to the delinquent and leaned back a bit, just enough so the angle was right. You pressed the button and heard the shutter activate. Without having to wait for too long, the photo came out as nice as you’d expect it- you smiling with a wink and your hand on your shoulder, with Jotaro closely behind looking at the camera with one eye open (mirroring yours), a subtle curl to his lip, and a faint red on his cheeks.

“Now this is a keeper.”

Jotaro looked at the picture for a second longer and nodded. “Whatever you say.”

---

Jotaro liked the photo. A lot.

He’d keep it if he could, but his stubborn facade held him back from admitting that to you. Besides, you wanted the picture in the first place and he wouldn’t want to take the memento away from you.

With their supplies now stocked and ready to go, time shouldn’t be wasted any further. The helicopter’s blades whirled to life once again, lifting the aircraft up just as the jeep revved with its engine switched on. However, you barely drove across any distance when out of nowhere, a strong gust of wind and sand pushed the vehicle hard, nearly toppling it over.

“What the hell was that?!”

Everyone, with the exception of Iggy who remained asleep, scrambled out of the jeep to look back at the source and to the team’s shock, they saw what had happened. “Is that-”

“The helicopter…” Before them, what used to be a fully functioning mode of transportation now lay in a complete wreck on the golden sand- its body bent in half, metallic skin appeared to be clawed down to its wiring, windows smashed, and its blades crooked and falling apart.

And beneath all that ruined material was a pilot’s corpse, jaw agape and nails bloody from the scratches it had done on the helicopter’s hard exterior. While Kakyoin, Avdol, and Pol went off to inspect the tail end, the remaining crew went on to investigate the shell-shocked cadaver.

Both the craft and its passengers didn’t show any signs that could have sabotaged either. Though in an attempt to pull the body out, Jotaro noticed something in the pilot’s open mouth. “See something?” Joseph asked.

At closer inspection, Jotaro’s brows furrowed with concerned disgust. “Water. Full of it in his mouth.” He grabbed hold of the man’s chin and turned it to the side, allowing the copious amount of fluid to flow out onto the ground. “Saliva doesn’t fill the mouth that much. So it’s not from there but from the lungs,” he said, clearly perturbed. “Shit, that means he drowned in the desert of all places.”

“Rapid water build-up in a dry area like this with no rain? An enemy Stand’s responsible no doubt,” you remarked, already surveying the area for any other suspicious activity.

“Guys!” Your team turned to the other direction where the other 3 was at. “It’s the other pilot! He’s alive!”

The Crusaders re-grouped, forming a circle around the aforementioned man heaving on the sand, incredibly dehydrated and parched. His skin cracked in every area of his body with his bones jutting out underneath. The poor guy struggled to speak but all he could muster were gasps and heaves.

“Quick, Polnareff! Water! He needs water!” Joseph pointed at the nearby fallen canister. The silver-haired adult retrieved the container and brought it to the old man’s hand. “Here, drink up. You need it bad.”

Jotaro would expect the pilot would immediately latch on to it, but suspicion continued to build up the longer the man would refuse to drink from it, let alone go near it even. He grew more frantic the more the stubborn elder kept pushing the canister forward.

And in the last moment, the pilot found his voice.

“GET THAT AWAY FROM ME-”

With no warning, something shot out of the water container and dug its claws into the man’s face, violently tearing at skin, muscle, sinew, and bone until the whole head detached from its body.

You screamed, losing balance as you flinched hard from the abrupt and brutal death. Shit! Jotaro caught you before you could tumble to the ground, pulling you close to him as he shielded your eyes from watching the entity force the fresh head into the canister.

“Everyone move!”

The team jumped off a fair distance away from the now-bleeding object. The delinquent turned to you, slowly removing his hand off of your face once that thing settled. Without asking, you looked back at him with a shaky sigh. “I’m fine now,” you muttered. “Thanks.”

Whose Stand was that just now? More importantly, where was the user to begin with? Throughout their course here, he hadn’t noticed anyone that stood out from the rest of the crowd, nor did he find any silhouette roaming about in the vast desert sands.

Could this Stand be long-ranged just like The Lovers? Or was it remote?

Jotaro took the stillness of the moment to assess his surroundings, bringing out a pair of binoculars to search further and Star Platinum for an extra pair of eyes. Beside him, you helped with scanning the areas behind. Joseph and Avdol lie still nearby, never leaving their sights on the ominous object in front of them.

“Anything?” Joseph whispered.

The delinquent shook his head.

Farthest from the team were Polnareff and Kakyoin, lying across from them arguing something about who’s Stand should be the first to attack it. If they’d be any closer, he might have a way to shut them up and stop them from being annoying in the middle of an ambush.

Then there it was again, a damp spot growing on the sand a few inches away from Kakyoin gradually growing more wet until-

“Kakyoin!” The enemy Stand sprang from the moistened ground to claw both the cherry-haired’s eyes with a single, nearly deadly swipe. Polnareff reacted accordingly and caught his body as it fell lax.

“Get over here! Hurry!” You yelled at them, distressed. At the same time, those close to the jeep climbed on top of the vehicle to get away from the enemy’s range.

The Frenchman wasted no time and got up with his friend in his arms, sprinting as fast as he can away from the hunting Stand. Helping close the distance was Silent Sanctuary extending strips of its fabrics towards them with impressive speed. They latched themselves around wherever they could on both their bodies and with one solid tug, pulled them towards the jeep’s roof before the Stand could land a cut on Polnareff’s leg.

“How is he?” You hurried over to inspect the injuries on the student’s face.

“He’s breathing at least so I guess he’s fine,” Pol panted, high with adrenaline. “He’s knocked out though. Probably will stay like that until his eyes are treated.”

“Look for some bandages. We should stop the bleeding for now.”

Leaving them to tend to his wounds, Jotaro drew his focus back to the sand. Where is it? Now that he knew what to look for, he kept lookout for any puddle appearances or formation of any dark patches. Where are you, you piece of shit. “How do we beat this thing if it keeps going into hiding every time it loses track of us?” Joseph said, concerned with their current situation.

“We need to lure it out somehow. I can burn it with Magician’s Red but only if it’s distracted long enough,” Avdol said in return.

For a moment, they didn’t know what to do. There was a solution in the Egyptian’s plan, but to pull that off was something that still needed a bit more time to polish. Unfortunately for them, time wasn’t given to them when out of the window seat, Iggy barked repeatedly as he leaped out of the vehicle. He continued to do so at them even when his paws landed outside.

You heard him and understood that as a warning. Why else would he jump off if he was fine sleeping in it minutes ago?

“Get away from the jeep!” The guys turned to you as if you had grown another head, questioning why should they when doing so put them on its radar, but you barely got a word out when the vehicle trembled. “Now!”

At the last second, everyone jumped off the jeep’s roof a second before the transport sunk into sand. All of you stuck a rough landing but made it out just in time. Though, you couldn’t move when the fluid Stand crept towards the team.

Beads of sweat ran down your back as Silent Sanctuary hovered above you, ready to provide defense. You’d find out that won’t be necessary when across from you, a watch’s alarm blared out. The hand retracted itself and launched its claws towards the corpse’s wrist, cutting the hand clean from the arm before hiding once again.

“Sound,” Avdol muttered. “It hunts using sound and movement.”

It would make sense. When it first attacked the pilot, the man had screamed in panic. Then its next target was Kakyoin because of his argument with Polnareff. The watch was next after due to the alarm, and last was the jeep itself because of the team’s discussions. Everyone seemed to get the memo with one shared eye contact when all of them remained still and silent.

Testing out his hypothesis, Avdol slowly reached for his silver bracelets. One-by-one, he tossed a hoop onto the empty space in front of him, done in a pace mimicking how someone would walk with cautious steps.

“Jotaro,” He glanced at you, and if he didn’t know whether to be concerned or not when you were already on one knee with a plan in mind. You whispered. “Find a way to traverse the desert without running. The user has to be around somewhere.”

What are you doing? “Avdol’s plan has a high chance of backfiring once he runs out. I have a back-up plan in mind and part of it needs you to do what I told you earlier.” He had his doubts but just as you said, the last of the Egyptian’s bracelets marked itself on the ground, luring out the water Stand to its position.

The delinquent looked back at you with furrowed brows, wanting to tell you that his plan was working and to get down. However, once Magician’s Red hovered behind it to launch a fire ball, the entity dodged it at the last second. Now it was aware where Avdol was.

“Now.” A strip of rose-gold zipped out to shield the adult’s neck where the Stand’s trajectory was aiming for. The same time Avdol retreated back, you bolted out of your safe spot and ran across the sands. “Hey! Over here, you little shit!”

With the taunt, the Stand swam its way to you and leaped. Though it couldn’t do any harm when Silent Sanctuary had a ton of impenetrable fabrics ready to defend its user. Each swipe of its claws could only scratch the silk surface of your Stand, unable to tear at its seams.

You locked one more eye contact with Jotaro and this time, he got to his feet as well.

Get around without running? How the hell will I do that? He looked around him to see what can help him do that. He turned to every one of his companions, gauging if their Stands could do shit relevant to his task. But then his gaze stopped at Iggy, staying put in one spot away from the group.

The user of a sand-based Stand able to form into anything it wanted. Got it. “Hey you,” he called out to the canine. “Think you can make something up to get us across in the air?”

Iggy growled, sharing glares with the delinquent. “Listen mutt, do you want your damn supply of gum or not? You heard what Y/N said.” There was still that reluctance present in the dog’s posture, but given that he’s unable to pass on the opportunity on free food, he begrudgingly complied.

In that moment, the sands went into motion around them, swirling around the canine until it rose to form The Fool in its entirety. Unlike its former appearance, a large glider had attached itself on the mechanical Stand’s back. It rolled forward to pick Iggy in its metallic paws. He barked at Jotaro, telling him to grab onto it to hitch a ride.

The delinquent cocked his head. I can’t believe I’m doing this. He grabbed hold onto The Fool’s arm and using Star’s force, he launched both Iggy and himself up into the sky with one strong leap.

Jotaro looked back to see what you were up to. Suffice to say, you still kept up the distraction as the clawed hand repeatedly failed in landing a single cut anywhere on your body thanks to the glint of silk protecting you. With you keeping it busy, the others used the moment to get the jeep above ground and get it running.

Focusing ahead, he brought out Star’s eyes and surveyed the surrounding areas for any sign of a lone Stand user. In front of him, Iggy sniffed the air, actually helping him search and in doing so, The Fool maneuvered itself to the direction of any foreign scent he could smell.

And after minutes of searching, Jotaro managed to find someone 400 meters away- a man cross-sitting atop a sandy hill, head bowed in concentration with a cane in hand connected to the ground. There you are. However, they couldn’t reach in time as they neared the ground.

“Damnit,” Once his foot grazed the sand, he brought Star out once again to launch themselves up into the sky. But by doing that, he gave away his location to the enemy and he could hear the once-distracted Stand approach, harshly swimming underneath the sands, causing multiple granules to sprinkle against the glider and emit a distinct sound as its trail.

Now that our location’s on his radar, it’ll only be a matter of until- The second the sandy rain stopped falling, the watery Stand leaped out of the ground, aiming straight for Jotaro. Star Platinum hovered before him in an attempt to block it, but to his dismay, the enemy Stand slipped past the humanoid’s fist and landed a clean cut across his shoulders and a hole on The Fool’s glider.

Losing flight again, they drifted low onto land, faster than earlier with a heavy tilt causing his shoes to drag across the ground. Jotaro cursed. The man was so close, so close that he could hear him chuckle as if success was within his reach. Would he even make it there without having to constantly deal with this deadly hand?

Fuck it. Jotaro let go of The Fool, allowing Iggy to swerve away to safety, and got into a stance where Star is able to lend its leg power for one more jump, preferably behind the enemy Stand user so he could get one solid hit to render him unconscious. There was the risk of getting attacked in a fatal area, with the pain radiating on his shoulder serving as a reminder of the danger, but if it meant ending this obstacle then so be it.

The delinquent could feel the shifting of the sand making way for the rapidly approaching liquid. He put all his force into his one leg and just as he made that leap, a voice yelled out in the back.

“Catch!”

Something flew past Jotaro’s leg in high speed and what once was targeted at him, the Stand changed course and retreated back into the ground, hurrying back to return to its user. Glancing back, he saw you from a distance standing on top of the recovered jeep with Pol manning the wheel. Silent Sanctuary floated close-by with one strip loosened being the one responsible for the throw.

But by the time the clawed hand made it in time to slice the item- the bleeding canister- in half before it could reach its user, Jotaro had already landed behind him, remaining still to not alert his position.

It wasn’t too long until the man realized that his target stood just outside the water barrier he set for himself. He made it known that he was honored by the way Jotaro decided to approach him, one that wasn’t simply walking up to a blind man to knock the living daylights out of him.

With silent agreement, their battle would end with one attack. Both would hold themselves for a bit longer until their attacks are fired at the same time just like all those Western movies Jotaro would watch as a kid. Their timer would be the cane the man held, letting it fall slowly from his grasp.

In the end, Jotaro was hailed as the victor of their duel, managing to deliver a heavy punch onto the man’s face while his Stand could only knock the hat off his head.

There were a lot to be asked now that they got one of DIO’s lackeys under their grasp, but that hope for any intel dissipated as the man let his own Stand run itself through his chest, piercing the heart inside. The act surprised Jotaro since he never had encountered someone who’d take his own life to evade questioning.

Even as the teenager asked him why he’d do such a thing when he had a life to live for, his reasoning was admirable even if it was twisted with lies of being given a purpose, and is rooted deep due to cult-like devotion. Even in defeat, his loyalty to his god and his fellow companions was unwavering, that he’d rather die than betray his fellow men.

Their conversation ended not too long after and the man named N’Doul breathed his last and died just like he intended, serving his master until the very end.

For the first time in his life, Jotaro gave genuine respect to someone of the opposite side.

The delinquent stayed around for a bit longer until the sun had set into the horizon, giving the blind man a proper burial grave to honor his sense of devotion one last time. His cane, planted on top of the small lump, acted as N’Doul’s personal headstone.

“You know you didn’t have to, right?”

Jotaro looked over to see you stand beside him, hands clasped over your skirt to pay your respects to the grave. “I know, but it felt… wrong to just leave him as is.”

“For you to treat him like this… I guess you both had quite of a chat.”

“Maybe.”

The sun continued to retreat in the distance. “We should head back,” you said. “Your shoulder has some patching up to do. Pol left some of the bandage used for Nori’s eyes.” Although the pain wasn’t that bad, Jotaro knew you by now that refusing treatment wasn’t in your choices. And so he nodded once.

A bark interrupted the both of you. “Guess who found your hat?” You smiled as Iggy crept up from behind your shins, holding his ripped hat with his teeth. “I gotta say, it’s quite impressive the man’s able to knock it off your head that far.”

“Would you look at that?” Jotaro got onto one knee and waited for the terrier to approach him with caution. He reached forward to grab it off his mouth. “Seems you’re not all that bad. Thanks.”

The teenager attempted to give Iggy a head pat, only for the latter to growl at him and run towards the direction of the jeep. In return, Jotaro scowled as he placed the hat back on its rightful spot.

“Little shit.”

“Reminds me of a certain someone, don’t you agree?” You smiled, cheeky.

“Shut up.”

---

Given how late the day had gotten, everyone in the group agreed to camp out in the middle of the desert, waiting out one night before they could continue on with their trip.

A fire was set up in the middle of their makeshift site filled with sleeping mats and cooking paraphernalia, providing a decent amount of warmth for the team in the midst of the chilly evening air. They had a simple dinner of cooked beans and biscuits, chatted with each other for a while, until majority agreed to hit the hay for the remaining hours.

Until now, you still couldn’t bring yourself to fall asleep. You haven’t gotten any sleep for the past hours and with the exhaustion taking over every inch of your body, you didn’t know whether you even wanted to sleep or force yourself awake. You didn’t want to end up in that manor again after all.

Figuring sleep wasn’t your best option as of the moment, you turned to look for the one person who you could trust yourself to be with at this hour.

“Hey…” You waved at the delinquent resting on top of his mat, staying upright against the surface of the jeep. He looked up at you, curious. “Would you mind if I… sit here?”

Not a word was said in return but Jotaro scooting over to the side was enough. You placed your mat beside his and sat beside him.

“Staying up again?” He nodded. “Don’t you feel tired though? You must have times where you just wanna sleep the night away.”

“It’s nothing new. A day nap or two can help me get by.”

“You’re lucky. What I would give to not worry about taking naps. I’m so tired but alas… here I am eyes heavy,” you sighed, resting your head against the vehicle’s surface. “I don’t want to go back there. Can you help me with that?”

“How?”

You shrugged. “Dunno… Maybe I just like hearing you talk. Your voice is really nice.”

A chilling gust of breeze brushed by, causing your body to shiver from the cold. You tried to keep it in, even shoving your feet in the mat as if that could help, until something lightly nudged at you.

You turned to see Jotaro offering you his gakuran without looking at you. From your angle, you peeked at the bandage wrapped around his shoulder courtesy of you. Trailing up, you could see his averted face bearing tightened lips, almost embarrassed with what he just did.

Either way, your cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. You gingerly took the uniform without a word and let it drape over you, nearly covering your entire frame. In it, you could pick up on the faint smell of that citrus scent you recognized back in Singapore and the more obvious hint of tobacco laced with it.

The material itself was warm enough to shield you from the evening chill and you buried as much of yourself inside, savoring the warmth it gave as you grasped the edges of the clothing and tugged it over each other.

“You know I don’t talk much.”

“Didn’t seem like that back in the submarine though,” you said. “Longest I’ve ever heard you speak without a break.”

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not!” You quickly butted in. “If anything, it made me stupid for the lack of knowledge I have on ocean life. But that just means you have more intellect in that head of yours than just being an ordinary bad boy. Hell, I might need you to tutor me on our future classes.”

Jotaro deadpanned at you, and you giggled. “I’m joking.”

In the minutes without either of you talking, he reached into his pocket and brought out his silver lighter. You thought he’d reach for his cigarettes next, but he didn’t. Instead he fidgeted with the item, flicking the lid open and close. “What… do you want to know?”

“Anything. Whatever you have stored in that memory bank of yours, lay it on me.”

With some reluctance, Jotaro began to share a couple more facts about all the things he might have read prior to their journey. From animal biology to the mechanisms of ships and planes, to the tropes of his favorite movies, you listened to him with full attention and you made sure he knew that by asking questions in-between, to which he answered to with ease.

Neither of you knew how long this went but you didn’t care. You were invested in the way he’d talk about the things he was passionate in, the way he unknowingly began to open more of himself to you without having the need to do so, and from the way you could see more of his youthful energy peeking through all his many layers of jaded stoicism and teenage angst.

It was endearing. Almost wholesome even. You did say you liked hearing him speak, and perhaps this was why.

It also didn’t occur to either one of you that you gradually leaned towards him until you had your arm pressing against his.

However, you still couldn’t hold back the need to shut your eyes as they grew heavier with each passing second, and accompanied by the baritone voice of your companion and the soothing warmth of his uniform, you gave in to its temptation with a drawn-out yawn.

Jotaro paused, taking the time to look at you. “I have to go back again. I’m so sleepy…”

“Then sleep.”

You closed your eyes as you leaned your head on his shoulder, mumbling out a few more words before fully falling into slumber. “But I don’t wanna hurt anymore…”

Silence. And then a response- deep and raspy, but at the same time soft and reassuring. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I’ll be here."

[ilovedthestars]

I'm curious; what's X and Y?

(Writer Ask Game)

You've fallen into my trap and given me an excuse to talk about the other Yuma and Crowbar sequel fic! (mwahaha)

(CW for brief mention of a suicide attempt)

This one takes place farther in the future. After spending a bit of time on Preservation together, Yuma and Crowbar have decided they want to join the Polaris network / underground railroad and help Niri & the others get more SecUnits to freedom. They're set up on a CR station near Preservation, with an apartment that can serve as a safe house, a few helpful contacts, and all the equipment Yuma might need to fix up a SecUnit.

The fic starts with the very first SecUnit that comes to them--and not unlike Crowbar, it comes to Yuma in a crate, looking basically dead. It was illicitly sold for scrap and a contact bought it for Yuma to try to fix instead. It's been shot through the power cell, a very expensive part to replace, but they manage to hook it up to external power and get it back online. It's very visibly freaked out, and it can't talk--voice, feed, signs, anything.

It becomes clear pretty quickly that its voice was taken away by its former owner, and also that its injuries were probably self-inflicted. Yuma sets out to fix its voice, and when she succeeds, one of the first things out of its mouth is that it left another Unit behind, and can they help it too?

X and Y are the placeholder names for these two SecUnits (and if I can figure out a way to work it into the story those will probably be their actual names at this point). I started off writing from Yuma's POV but I've also gone back and written sections focused on X and Y, about the relationship the two of them have carved out under their oppressive owner. (I can't help it, I have to keep writing SecUnits who Care About Each Other despite everything <3)

[commenter2]

R&C Apogee Industries facts, theory, and ideas

In 3 back to back Ratchet & Clank games you can find text and/or dialogue mentioning Apogee Industries, obviously a company started by the famous explorer character Max Apogee and likely has his daughter Talwyn Apogee running it/having most ownership of the company.

To be more specific in Quest for Booty the Scavenger Suit (as it is called in that game, gets called the Quest Suit in Rift Apart) Ratchet wears is made by the company as shown by it sporting the Apogee logo on the belt in both QFB and Rift Apart. In A Crack in Time two armor suits you can purchase utilize a “Apogee Recycling System” that makes nanotech last longer, thus taking less damage. Then in All 4 One you have the “Apogee Industries Communication Pods”, which can not only allow people who use them to communicate with others and survive entering a planet’s atmosphere and various terrains, but it can be used to send supplies via teleportation. I also wouldn’t be surprised if the company sold jetpacks similar to the ones Talwyn, Cronk, and Zephyr are/have always sported.

I have a small theory that the company started off as a way for Max Apogee to fund his explorations by selling things he made to survive his own adventures but over time thanks to his success, turned it into an actual business where other eager adventurers can acquire the right gear needed to explore properly. If GrummelNet is willing to do collabs together then it must be good tech.

I think future Ratchet & Clank games should utilize Apogee Industries more, and I got a few ideas how that can be used for gameplay and to give more personality to characters. One simple idea is having it act like another vendor in the Polaris Galaxy. I already have an idea for a new weapon the company could have created, and that is a bomb glove that deploys smoke bombs like the one Talwyn used on Captain Slag and Rusty Pete. Call it something like “The Smoker”, and it would make for an interesting distraction weapon. Maybe it could have an upgrade where the smoke contains sneezing powder that works on organic beings and robots and you could get some funny animations from enemies.

Having it be brought up more would also be a great way to give more personality to Talwyn AND Max when he returns, and give more excuses for more unique interactions with Ratchet and Clank, among other things.

Past games and the R&C comics have shown that Talwyn is quite knowledgeable on technology from computer systems, repairing robots (like Cronk and Zephyr) and is good with a gun. The Apogee Space Station is also technologically interesting since it has gravity controlling tech (explaining why it is safe in an asteroid field) and how it’s has a nice biome despite also doubling as a fortress. Maybe while also owning most of Apogee Industries, Talwyn has also created things for the company to sell as well. I can see a line from her saying that after meeting Ratchet and Clank she got inspired to make things like her father did. This can lead to scenes and dialogue where she has helped/is helping Ratchet and Clank with their own projects whether it be a new device with Ratchet or a new software update on the station with Clank.

In the past I have mentioned how I think the raritanium weapon upgrade gameplay mechanic needs a massive overhaul and I think Talwyn and Apogee Industries would make a great replacement for it. Unlike the version in games like Into the Nexus, the 2016 reimagining, and Rift Apart where you slowly upgrade a weapon’s stats 1 raritanium at a time maybe when you give Talwyn either blueprints or spare parts/raritanium you can find thought-out the game, she can modify a weapon instantly making it much powerful AND comes with a new feature on par to when a weapon reaches its V5 form.

This could also lead to some fun dialogue from this like after buy an expensive upgrade from her, she states/hints to Ratchet he should get her something just as costly for her birthday or their anniversary.

Maybe Talwyn could be the one to give Ratchet and Clank the RYNO side quest as getting her the schematics for a weapon (it doesn’t have to be the RYNO) she can build it for him. Going back to blueprints, maybe she can make several weapons for Ratchet.

What are your thoughts on this info and how it can lead to interesting material for the R&C series?

[if-lost-please-return-to-maliksi]

POLARIS

Disclaimer: I do not own Maliksi, or Makisig (the Tamawo bros). Full Credit goes to HC - @ask-emilz-de-philz. Please check out their blog for amazing art and the wonderful world of Planet Puto.

A/N: This one is the sequel to Rough around the Edges. The last chapter (Rough Around the Edges - Final Part) may seem rushed- honestly, it is. Not in a way that I wanted to finish it at that, but my ADHD brain sometimes gets sudden bursts of ideas that I need to quickly get into my drafts, however, my fingers are too slow to type everything. Those I didn't get to type is somehow forgotten or changed into something else, thus explains the inconsistencies in pace, typos, wrong grammar, and other imperfections in my writing. (No, I am not sad or apologetic about it. I have a lot to improve and I have all the time in the world :D ) Still, I am thankful for everyone who takes time to read the products of my mind. I love writing about Maliksi btw, I think his character is complex and simple in itself and I am absolutely smitten with him. <3 Love HC and everything they do, as well as my fellow Planet Puto fans and enjoyers.

((AND NO, I AM NOT HURTING YOUR HEARTS THIS TIMEEE))

"Hey old hag, slow down or do you wanna get your second hip replacement right away?" Maliksi grumbled as he helped Amor's granddaughter, Maricela sit into a chair at the patio. She and Maliksi became friends- sharing their adoration for Amor.

Maricela has been old now and being in her 70's wasn't that enjoyable for her. She recently got hip replacement surgery and her grandchildren will be coming home from the city next week to take care of her.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure Lola Amor loved not getting this old. That woman died pretty." Maricela softly chuckled. "Thank you for visiting, Maliksi."

Maliksi scoffed. "Yeah, yeah. Can't have you tumbling around your backyard again before Amor scolds me on my dreams."

"Lola visits you on your dreams? Wait, you guys sleep?"

"If you were any younger I would've smacked you on your head by now. Ofcourse we sleep! We're not vampires! And no, she doesn't visit my dreams, that snobby little lady not even showing herself to me...even once."

"Not like you visited her when she was still alive!" Maricela burst out laughing.

"To my defense, I absolutely have no idea how time works outside Biringan. I didn't bother finding out before losing her." Maliksi softly answered.

"Atleast you're learning now. How's your Kuya Makisig? Still busy with his tamawo duties?"

"Yeah, as always."

"If you both didn't tell me everything about tamawos or explained how you guys' relationship with the humans work, I would've stayed there. I was crushing hard on your Kuya when I was younger." Maricela giggled.

"Well, you're a widow now want me to get Kuya to-"

Maricela, even being that old was still strong enough to playfully bonk Maliksi on his head. "Oh shush! Have some respect to your elders, how can you pimp me like I'm some kind of sugar baby wannabe."

Maliksi clutched his stomach from laughing too hard. "C'mon. I'm technically older than you by a lot!"

"You have a point. You should visit here next week. My grandchildren will be throwing a little party since this is the first time they'll be going home here in the province in a very long time. We'll have a lot of sweets and kakanin for sure."

"Next week huh? Seven human days, sure...I'll set that in my calendar so I won't miss it."

Maricela's laughter filled the air as her younger grandchildren pushed her wheelchair around the yard. Most of Maricela's family stayed at the city and rarely visited the province. The kids are absolutely enjoying it, having a chance to play in the sun and have fun on an open yard for the first time.

Maliksi quietly watched as he picks up a plate, ignoring the other savory dishes and going straight to the dessert section. The family members just thought of Maliksi as anak ng kapitbahay who looks after their Lola Maricela whenever he's free so he is treated warmly, oftentimes greeted by everyone who passes by his table.

Maliksi was spooning some lecheflan right out from the llanera when a shy boy approached his table and placed a platter of kutsinta right infront of him.

"My ate told me to give this to you." The boy shyly said before running away to join his cousins.

He tilted his head, eyes scanning the plate of steamed rice cake in front of him.

Amor still makes the best one.

Kutsinta is still his favorite, no doubt about that, yet he couldn't get himself to eat it after learning about Amor's passing, knowing nothing can top her kutsinta- it's the best he's ever tried even after being alive for centuries afterall.

Maliksi looked around, knowing that the kakanin might be prepared by one of Maricela's relatives, or worse, by one of her grandkids. Not wanting to be rude towards the one who made it, Maliksi slowly picked up a piece, inching it closer to his mouth before taking a bite.

His eyes widen as he quickly stood up from his seat, Maricela and her family were surprised at his suddenness, all eyes staring at him in bewilderment.

"Is everything okay, ijo?" one of the aunties asked Maliksi.

He quickly realized his actions, clearing his throat to gain composure and sitting back down calmly. "I- Sorry, it's just..the kutsinta is...good. Who made it?"

"Oh, must be Y/n. Lola Maricela's granddaughter who just graduated college. She loved cooking."

Maliksi heard a soft chuckle from behind him. He slowly turned around to see who it's coming from.

"Tastes like the best kutsinta ever, huh?" You stood infront of him, giving him a smug smile.

"You look like a kutsinta type of guy so I asked my lil bro to give you some. You like it?"

Maliksi stood frozen in place, his mind wandering to places. It is indeed the best kutsinta. Hell, it tastes like Amor's. He cannot forget that taste even after so many years.

The nostalgia brought by that single bite alone is enough to take him back to that time when Amor would make kutsinta and place it somewhere he'll find since he's too prideful before to accept anything from humans. He won't be able to resist it and just tell himself that Amor didn't give it to him- he 'sneakily' stole it from the human girl and enjoyed every last bits of it.

"I might not remember him, but my heart and soul will know him once we meet again."

"You...made this?"

You nodded. "Yeah, aside from the kutsinta itself, the secret actually lies on-"

"On the yema that is spread lightly on the top of the kutsinta before it's sprinkled with grated coconut." Maliksi finished your sentence which made you chuckle a little bit.

"How did you know that? Not everyone does that."

"A...friend of mine made it like that." Maliksi softly answered.

[startseeingstars]

Under the Needle - Clay Roach (City on a Hill)

CH04 🎶 Heart - Shaped Box - Nirvana 🎶

The soft sound of snoring pulled you from the haze of sleep. It took you a moment to register where you were, but then you remembered: Clay. He had stayed the night, stretched out awkwardly on your couch.

A small flutter of warmth bloomed in your chest at the thought that he had chosen to sleep there, rather than head back across the hall to his own place. You shook the feeling away, telling yourself not to read into it - that he was just too lazy from the weed.

Closing your eyes again, you let yourself sink back into the quiet comfort of your bed. Before you knew it, sleep reclaimed you.

The second time you woke up, it was different. The snoring had stopped, and your apartment was eerily quiet. Your stomach twisted with unease as you slipped your feet into your slippers and quietly opened your bedroom door.

Clay was still there, but something was off. He wasn’t lounging on the couch anymore—he was crouched by the TV cabinet, an old shoebox in his hands. His head snapped up when he heard the door, his body stiffening as your eyes met.

“What the hell, Clay?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, your heart racing as you registered exactly what he was holding.

The flash of guilt across his face was almost imperceptible, quickly replaced by his usual mask of indifference. “It was just sitting there,” he muttered defensively, as though that justified it.

“That’s not the point,” you snapped, stepping closer as he placed the lid back on the shoebox. The photos in there were private—memories you rarely let yourself revisit. Memories of Will.

Clay stood, towering over you but looking strangely out of place. He shifted uncomfortably, licking the inside of his bottom lip, his usual tell when he knew he’d crossed a line.

“Why were you even—” Your voice cracked, and you stopped yourself, shaking your head. “You should go.”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but stopped. Instead, he nodded stiffly, brushing past you without a word.

The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving you standing there in the empty apartment.

You stared at the shoebox in your hands, your emotions swirling in a chaotic mix of anger, guilt, and something else you couldn’t quite name. Part of you wanted to chase after him, demand an explanation, but another part of you wanted to shove the box as far out of sight as possible and pretend the moment hadn’t happened.

Reluctantly, you slid the box back beneath the TV cabinet. Out of sight, out of mind. Or at least that’s what you told yourself as you sank onto the couch, staring blankly at the floor.

On the other side of the hall, Clay leaned back against his apartment door, exhaling slowly. He clenched his fists, the memory of your expression—hurt, anger, betrayal—burning in his mind.

“Idiot,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He hadn’t meant to invade your privacy, not really. But when he’d seen the box, curiosity had gotten the better of him. He’d known there was something in it, something important, and now he knew exactly what.

The photos were burned into his mind: snapshots of a life you didn’t talk about, moments frozen in time with a guy Clay knew he’d never measure up to. Not that he wanted to, of course. At least that’s what he told himself.

Still, the weight in his chest didn’t go away, no matter how hard he tried to shake it.

xxx 🎶 Masochist - Polaris 🎶 xxx

The tightness in your chest grew heavier as you made your way down the hall, each hand clutching plastic bags filled with Chinese takeout from a spot Clay had casually mentioned once. The weight of the morning’s tension lingered, mingling with regret over how you’d handled things.

All day, the memory of Clay’s hardened expression had played on a loop in your mind, despite the bright spot that had come in the form of unexpected good news. Somehow, the tattoo parlor loved your work. Johnny had welcomed you into the shop, offering a fresh start and a sense of belonging you hadn’t felt in years. That small victory had sent an electric thrill through you, and you wanted to celebrate.

Cones, takeout, maybe a movie of Clay’s choosing—it seemed like the perfect way to both share your excitement and extend an olive branch.

You knocked on his door, waiting as muffled shuffling sounded from the other side. When the door creaked open, Clay stood in the doorway, his glassy, bloodshot eyes meeting yours. He looked caught off guard, like you’d interrupted something, his gaze quickly dropping to the bags in your hands. “Uh, hey,” he mumbled, sniffing as his weight shifted between the doorframe and his feet.

“Olive branch-slash-celebration?” you said, offering a small, tentative smile as you held up the takeout. There was a faint vulnerability in your tone, something you didn’t let slip often. “I found a studio to work out of,” you explained, the excitement in your chest briefly pushing past the awkwardness of the moment.

Clay’s mouth curved into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m actually heading out,” he said, his voice clipped, as though the words were hard to get out.

“Oh.” The pit of disappointment that formed in your stomach caught you off guard, but you forced a shrug and lifted the bags slightly. “Well, I can’t eat this all by myself, so swing by later?”

He gave you a quick nod, brushing past you as he grabbed his jacket and headed toward the elevator. You stood there for a moment, staring at the empty corridor before finally turning back to your apartment.

You unpacked the takeout containers slowly, letting the smell of greasy noodles and sweet, tangy sauces fill the small kitchen. It was supposed to be a celebration, but now the bags felt heavier, the food less appetizing. Clay’s cold demeanor replayed in your mind, the clipped tone, the way he avoided meeting your eyes for too long. You may not have known him well, but it felt strange of him to shut down so completely, at least with you—especially after how he’d stayed last night, how he’d comforted you in his own strange way.

Pushing the thought aside, you set everything out neatly on the counter, grabbing a set of chopsticks and a beer from the fridge. You told yourself you didn’t care that Clay had brushed you off. You were used to doing things on your own, anyway.

Hours stretched on as you half-watched a movie from your couch, trying to distract yourself from the nagging thoughts that wouldn’t leave you alone. You hated that you were keeping an ear out for Clay’s return, hoping he might knock on your door and join you after all.

But it never came.

You sighed, leaning back against the cushions. Maybe you’d overstepped. Maybe Clay didn’t want to celebrate with you, or worse, maybe he didn’t care. That nagging voice in the back of your mind—the one that always whispered that you were too much or not enough—seemed louder tonight.

You pressed the heel of your hand to your forehead, frustrated with yourself. This was supposed to be a good day, a victory. Johnny’s approval at the tattoo shop had lit something in you that had felt dead for years. You’d walked out of that shop feeling like you could breathe again, like you were finally moving forward.

And yet, here you were, letting one cold exchange with Clay deflate all of it.

“Pathetic,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. You grabbed the remote again, settling on an old action movie that barely held your attention. The sound of gunfire and cheesy one-liners filled the room, but it did little to drown out your thoughts.

Hours passed, the food now cold and untouched, but you didn’t feel like getting up to clean. You pulled the blanket over your legs, letting the movie play on as your mind drifted back to Will, to the shoebox you’d hastily shoved away. You tried not to think about how Clay’s hardened expression reminded you of the way Will used to shut down when he was hurting.

Eventually, your eyes drifted to the TV stand, where the shoebox sat like a physical weight pressing on your chest. You’d shoved it there earlier, trying to ignore it, but its presence gnawed at you. Reluctantly, you pulled it out and settled back on the couch, staring at the lid for a long time before finally opening it.

The first thing you saw was Will’s bright green eyes, captured in a photo where his blonde hair was tousled and messy, his familiar teasing grin aimed directly at the camera. A pang shot through your chest, sharp and sudden, as though the years since his death hadn’t dulled the ache one bit.

One by one, you sifted through the memories—photos, ticket stubs, small scraps of a life that felt completely disconnected from the person you were now. Your own smile in the pictures felt foreign, like looking at someone else entirely.

You’d never known happiness like the kind you’d found with him. He’d been far from perfect—opinionated, cocky, and more than a little self-destructive—but he’d also been gentle in ways that surprised you. He’d let you practice tattooing on his skin when you were barely an apprentice and had held your hand tightly through your grandmother’s funeral.

But in the end, he chose to leave. The rage and grief bubbled to the surface, familiar companions after all this time. He’d left you, like you weren’t enough to keep him here, abandoning you to a world that already felt cold and lonely.

You knew he’d been struggling long before he met you, and you’d convinced yourself that you could save him. That you could save each other. But you couldn’t.

Angry tears blurred your vision as you shoved the shoebox off your lap, sending it tumbling to the floor with a thud. The guilt hit immediately, a fresh wave of pain that twisted in your chest like a knife. You rubbed at your face, letting out a shaky breath as you bent to pick the box back up.

Three - almost four years gone, and you still couldn’t let go. The shoebox was all you had left of him. The memories inside were both a lifeline and a weight that dragged you down. You’d thrown yourself into work, into booze, into anything that dulled the ache of his absence, but none of it had truly helped.

It was late now, and the apartment was quiet except for the hum of the TV. You stared at the ceiling, exhaustion weighing on you but sleep feeling impossible. Somewhere deep down, you wondered if you’d ever get used to this—this strange in-between where people felt close but not close enough. Where connections were fleeting, and you were always left wondering what you’d done wrong.

xxx 🎶 Fine Again - Seether 🎶 xxx

Five days had passed, and Clay’s absence was gnawing at you like a splinter you couldn’t remove. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t care, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The few times you’d caught him—rushing past you in the hall or turning a corner just as you arrived—he barely looked at you, shoulders hunched like he was carrying something too heavy for his frame. His eyes, when you did see them, were hollow, glassy, like he wasn’t really there. You’d grown used to his distance, his smirks, the way he teased you like he couldn’t care less about anything, but this was different.

Annoyance curdled in your chest, mixing with something softer you refused to name. You weren’t the kind of person to go chasing after someone who didn’t want you around—but Clay wasn’t the kind of person to shut you out entirely, or at least you’d hope he wouldn’t be. He enjoyed your presence, even if he didn’t admit it. And if he was in some kind of trouble, you needed to know.

The perfect excuse presented itself when you ran out of weed. You knocked harder than necessary, letting your irritation do the talking as you planted yourself in front of his door, prepared to get some kind of answer.

The door cracked open just enough for Clay to appear, and you blinked, momentarily taken aback. He looked bad. His skin, usually pale, was waxy and sickly, sweat dotting his hairline even though the hallway wasn’t warm. The dark circles under his eyes were so deep you wondered if he’d slept at all in the past week. His greasy hair hung limply over his forehead, sticking in odd directions like he’d been running his hands through it nonstop.

He hadn’t planned to shut you out—not really. But the way you looked at him sometimes, with that mix of curiosity and something softer, made it harder to keep the illusion intact. You were the kind of person who noticed things, and Clay couldn’t have you noticing him like this.

“Jesus, Clay, you look like shit.” The words cut through the fog in his head like a pinprick, a tiny dose of normalcy he hadn’t realized he was craving. His lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk pulling at his mouth despite himself. This was you, saying things like they were, not tiptoeing around him.

“Thanks for your candor,” he deadpanned, rolling his bloodshot eyes before sniffing loudly and rubbing at his nose. His voice sounded rough, dry, and you couldn’t help but notice how he shifted in the doorway—one shoulder against the frame, like he needed it to hold himself up.

“I’m out of bud,” you said simply, keeping your tone casual. His vacant gaze dropped lazily to the bong in your hand, and for a moment, he hesitated like he was debating something.

“Fresh out, but I’m getting some delivered soon,” he muttered, already looking tired of the conversation. “Swing by in an hour. I’ll hook you up.”

You nodded, watching him carefully. “Cool. See you then.”

You lingered for a moment longer, but he didn’t say anything else, just nodded stiffly before shutting the door.

An hour later, you returned with chicken soup and a tub of ice cream from the corner store, the two most cliché offerings you could think of. It was a flimsy excuse, but you didn’t care. If he was sick—or worse—you weren’t going to just let him rot in there.

This time, the door opened faster, and you were immediately hit with the pungent scent of marijuana. Without waiting for an invitation, you pushed past him and into the apartment. Clay let you, too tired—or too high—to fight back.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” you muttered as you began unpacking the food onto the kitchen table.

Clay let the door swing shut behind him, rubbing at his eyes as he shuffled toward the couch. He looked worse under the dim light—gaunt, his frame smaller than you remembered, like he was hollowing out from the inside. As he collapsed onto the couch, you couldn’t help but glance around.

The place was a disaster. Dirty dishes were stacked so high in the sink they looked ready to topple, old takeout containers and empty beer bottles crowded every surface, and the smell of stale smoke lingered under the weed. A note pinned to the fridge caught your eye: “Do the dishes you lazy fuck. Love, Ma.” You couldn’t stop the quiet snort that escaped as you shoved the ice cream into the freezer.

“Good to know you get your charm from your Ma,” you teased, glancing at Clay.

Clay’s lips twitched faintly again, but the tension in his chest didn’t budge. You were talking, filling the silence with normal words and normal actions, like everything was fine. And maybe that’s what scared him most—how easy you made it look. He dropped onto the couch, clumsily reaching for his stash and weighing out bags of weed just to give his hands something to do. He kept his eyes on the table, barely processing what he was doing as you moved around him, your presence disarming in a way he couldn’t explain.

“You’re a riot,” he mumbled, his tone flat but not unkind.

You grabbed a bowl from the drying rack, filled it with steaming soup, and walked over, pressing it into his hands. “Eat.”

Clay blinked at the bowl, his brow furrowing faintly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Finally, he took it, bringing the spoon to his lips with slow, deliberate movements.

“Chicken noodle,” you said as you sat beside him. “Figured you weren’t the tomato soup type.”

“Of course not. I’m not a psycho,” he muttered between bites, a little of his usual snark slipping through. But his voice was weaker than it should have been, and that tugging concern in your chest grew.

As he ate, you watched him carefully. His movements were sluggish, his eyes unfocused, staring through the TV more than at it. When he finished, he let the empty bowl rest in his lap and slouched further into the couch, his head lolling to the side as his breathing slowed. Within minutes, his eyes were closed, and his shoulders rose and fell with steady, even breaths.

Even as he drifted, he felt you there beside him. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know you weren’t leaving. You were watching him, like you saw him—more than he wanted you to. He felt vulnerable, exposed, but there was a strange comfort to it too. You didn’t push. You didn’t ask questions. You just stayed.

You sat quietly, studying him. In sleep, he looked younger somehow, his sharp edges dulled, his face slack with exhaustion. But the peaceful illusion couldn’t erase the signs that something was wrong—the weight loss, the glassy look in his eyes, the way he moved like his bones were too heavy to carry. Clay always gave off the air of someone who didn’t care about anything, but now it felt like he was holding too much. Like he was sinking under the weight of it.

Your gaze wandered back to the kitchen, to the towering stack of dishes and the mess surrounding you both. Something in you stirred—an unexplainable urge to do something, to help him in a way that wouldn’t feel intrusive. Maybe it was stupid, but you felt protective of him, like you owed him that much.

The sink was worse up close, crusted plates and the faint stink of mildew clinging to the air. You set to work quietly, scrubbing at the grime while Clay snored softly from the couch. The noise of clattering dishes should’ve woken him, but he didn’t move—he just kept sleeping, his breaths steady.

When you were done, you wiped your hands dry and turned to look at him again. He hadn’t stirred, his face peaceful in the dim light. It wasn’t much, but you hoped it would mean something when he woke up—that you’d done something to make him feel a little less alone.

And even if he didn’t notice, you’d still be here. You weren’t going anywhere.

[utytimeline]

Redesigning Starlo NEO

All right, I haven't had time to put my thoughts together properly, but I do have some ideas about Starlo's NEO forms (or Zenith or Super forms, if you prefer).

1st Phase: Shooting Star

His first phase should not be call Sirius, he is the North Star, and the real name for the North Star is Polaris. Sirius is a completely different star, in a different constellation. I get the joke that he's become a "Serious Starlo," but that's the wrong star, he shouldn't be called Sirius at all.

I think his first phase should be called "Shooting Star," because he's literally a STAR who SHOOTS. Like, duh???

As for his design:

Yellow is actually a mid-temperature star. Based on Starlo's reactions to the Showdown boss fight, I feel like he's someone who would act cool and calm in a real, serious fight to the death. He'd have to be in order to even shoot straight. So his 1st NEO form would probably be a cooler, reddish-orange temperature. Like he's staying calm and giving you an opportunity to give up before he really starts to fight.

His lasso is on fire and burns you when he whips you. And his bullets are made of fire. Every hit has a potential to give you burn damage that lasts for a few turns, or a potential for smoke damage that leaves you unable to breathe, reducing your speed.

2nd Phase: Polaris

Much as I like the name Hypernova for Starlo, I think the North Star should get to shine under the name Polaris, yeah? But he doesn't look humanoid anymore. He still has arms and legs, but his torso and face are replaced by an intense ball of bluish-white light.

His bullets are made of plasma and deal electrical damage. His lasso looks like a streak of bluish-white lightning. If you get caught in it, you get electrocuted and can't move until he un-whips you.

3rd Phase? Singularity

We could give him a 3rd NEO phase (because why not, I mean, Ceroba got a 3-phase fight, even tho ASRIEL DREEMURR himself only got 2, but if Ceroba gets a 3rd, then why can't Starlo?).

This is a desperate, last-ditch move on Star's part and will kill him if he has to stay in this phase for more than a few minutes. Hypernova has used up most of his energy and in order to continue the battle, he has to collapse in on himself. He basically becomes a small black hole. He is no longer able to hold onto a lasso. He has become a living gravity well in order to drag you in. His bullets are pure radiation, no longer being shot from a gun, but from his own body. He will only use this phase if a battle comes to point of "if I'm going down, I will drag you down with me." This kind of attitude goes against his own nature, and is something he will only use if faced with an enemy that poses a threat to all man- and monster-kind.

You can't see anything left of him but two, small, burning, white eyes, and the rainbow-colored tips of the five points of his head. The rest of him has become a black, empty void.

So when would he even use this?

Well, as we've already seen, Star doesn't use this in a Geno run. I have a lot of thoughts on this that need to go into a proper analysis post, but for now, I'll just say that he doesn't even start to develop his other phases until after the events of UTY. Because until the end of a True Pacifist run (that is, sparing Ceroba), Starlo never comes to a full understanding of Justice. He has a messed-up idea of Justice that he got from combining his movies with his monster upbringing. Clover is the one who teaches him that Justice must be combined with MERCY, or else it isn't Justice at all, it's just judgement.

So Star probably would use these phases on dangerous criminals after reaching the surface.

[romanatticus-england]

One of my favorite parts of my time spent here has been how much I've been able to connect with locals. I spent a couple weeks in Italy a few years ago for school, and the language barrier paired with my age/the rigidity of the program meant I really couldn't hope to "meet" people there.

This time has been totally different. I can't help but think this will be the most memorable part of my trip.

Like the Italian server we met in Brixton Market, who Kelly talked to in Italian and she got so excited! We talked about Cranston and how it's brimming with Italian-American culture and how the streets are sometimes lined with the Italian flag. She was so kind and connected to us after that.

Or the two guys we met walking to The Divine to see our cabaret show, Dom and Adrian, who taught us about Polari and the history of the secret language that British queers used to communicate safely and secretly in the 20th century.

Or HRH Aphrodite & Hunter Gatherer, the queen/king couple we met after the actual drag performance. How Aphrodite spoke so eloquently and informedly about the history of Shakespeare and the plays we loved and hated (she's not a fan of Pericles).

Or the 15 year old boy who was our tour guide at the Holy Trinity Church where Shakespeare is buried. He was working this wild historical site as just his "highschool" part-time job. He told us about the election of the head boy, and how it's usually based on sports & popularity, and how they get to parade around every year on Shakespeare's birthday and replace the quill that his statue is holding in it's hand.

Or the girl at the grocery store in Stratford-upon-Avon who lived in a quiet village close to town where there's mist in the mornings and she gets to watch badgers come out of their sets, and nobody else barely even lived there, yet she still engages in D&D and art and game design and all of these social and creative interests, and how she'll never leave her home because she loves it so much.

[chernobog13]

I had me one of these when I was a wee lad. It was a present from my aunt who lived across the street at the time and who, I suspect, bought it so my sister and I wouldn't come over to her house all the time asking for cookies and other treats.

The sub was made of "fibreboard" pieces (really just heavy-duty cardboard) that interlocked together. You accessed the sub through the conning tower, which opened like a hatch. The torpedoes and missiles were hollow plastic (soft vinyl?) and were "fired" by air pressure from squeezing little bellows. I don't remember the "electronically lit instrument panel," but I think whoever put it together was too lazy to insert batteries. I don't recall missing that feature, because the sub was a blast to play in.

The Supermarionation show Stingray, which I enjoyed, was broadcast at the time, so I would pretend I was part of the show. A lot of times I would also make believe the sub was a spaceship

I know me sainted mum wasn't super fond of the sub because it took up most of the playroom my sister and I used. I don't know why mum was opposed to it, because no one else used the room, and the sub would keep me occupied for hours. Instead, after about a week, she had us take it outside to our postage stamp-sized backyard. Then she told us to leave it in the yard when we came in for dinner, and that it would be there in the morning for us to play in again.

Not me, and not my backyard (waaaay too big), but I found this photo of some lucky kid playing in his Polaris sub around the same time I had mine.

Except it rained that night. Hard. And my fibreboard/cardboard sub essentially melted into mush, the only things left being the periscope, torpedoes and missiles.

We never got a replacement sub, much as I wanted one. No one was willing to fork out another $7.73 (the price + shipping fee), which is the equivalent of $74.56 these days, for kids who couldn't take care of their toys.

One of these days, if I'm feeling industrious enough, I'll search the Interwebs to see if I can find the plans for the sub. Then I'll see If I can figure out how to make another sub, but big enough for my adult carcass to fit in.

And if that works, no one's gonna see or hear from me for a long time, 'cause I'll be exploring the oceans depths.

[esoteric-champagne]

happy new year instead of 2024 art summary (pending) have what I was doing instead of working on a zine piece due tomorrow (redesigning characters I haven't drawn since like 2019), detailed thoughts under cut

Achikochuu: she ends up being a support hero, so I gave her a harness for carrying people on her back. the 2 motifs are hearts ("chuu" is the sfx of a kiss) and Y-shapes (her civilian first name is Yuuka). the hearts on the front of the harness are sensors for smoke and chemicals during search-and-rescue; I toyed with the idea of also having an infrared sensor, but that can be added as an accessory. she ties her hair into a bun instead of pigtails when she's older.

Pause: previously "Ms. Pause," she decides to go for a cooler look and a more underground role. so I stripped the colorful chest plate/pants out and replaced them with tac gear, focusing on the visor (sleeker and more functional than previous iterations). the fabric color can be configured for stealth in different terrain. the main motif is the pause symbol.

Polaris: mostly the same. I added more arrow shapes on her sleeves, the backs of her boots, and on her dress. she also has a belt with things she can throw (her Quirk is "redirect," so she can make basically anything into a boomerang) and her agency's communicator badge. the scarf looks the same, but it's detachable so it can tear away if someone grabs it.

Nebula: no changes except in my art style. I love her and she's a fan favorite lol.

Ataeru: previously only her top half was designed, so I finished it up. darker lines on her gloves, and her belt contains first aid stuff and snacks. it also has supplies for tying her braid back if it gets in the way. the laces on the boots are mostly ornamental.

Kiru: also not many changes. I added a belt on her thigh to holster a taser or something. her collar tears off so it can be used as a tourniquet or a headband to keep her hair out of her face. the blue glowing parts can all be turned off in "stealth mode." I simplified the design on her boots because it felt redundant to copy the gloves. she works for Genius Agency, so all of this comes in a denim variant as well...

Beansprout: more practical, but I'm still iffy about the colors. it's a long-sleeve/glove variant of the previous design. the chest plate has a stronger plant theme, and I finally designed some boots. I cut the skirt because her hair is less likely to catch on the shorts. from a Doylian perspective, her theme color is pink instead of yellow (like a beansprout) because pink is cuter. from a Watsonian perspective, it's because she chose the name "Beansprout" for its sound more than its literal meaning.

High Beam: I tried to make her cooler. her concept evolved into more of a supporting role, so I simplified her colors. she has sleeves, a belt, a pouch, and a visor for practical reasons. the coat is asymmetrical, and the tails are split for mobility. so now she kind of looks like a Home Depot bisexual lol...