#YALL THAT PULL THIS SHIT ARE FAILURES OF A HUMAN BEING

[lesbian-so-queer]

@kittenautie

Where the fuck did I disrespect that you shitty fucking perisexual ? Where did anyone ask for your "uwu think of others even though you knows your community best owo i'm just a stranger telling you ignorant shit and assuming your stance on your own kin and their personal politics of self-inclusion uwu i'm doing so much good work for the community i'm SO respectful telling an intersex person they must respect other intersex people when all they have said is that 'FUCKERS HAVE NO RIGHT TO DENY THAT INTERSEX PEOPLE HAVE A PLACE IN THE LGBT+ COMMUNITY' and not 'SO THAT MEANS ALL INTERSEX PEOPLE MUST ID AS LGBT+ OR GO TO HELL' uwu i'm such a pure person !!!" w o r t h l e s s out-of-fucking touch holier-than-thou input ???

Get bricked. You owe me your fucking teeth.

Also it's because of patronizing ignorant people like you that my community gets silenced in the bigger one- anything we try to say you turn a mootpoint by deviating the fucking debate into one of inclusion when it's been dated that this is our community too the moment we want it to.

Dont even bother replying to this, I don't block you just because I want you to see this and feel like shit if there's any hope. Don't remind me you exist.

To any fucker that says that intersex people aren't LGBT+, let it be known we will lead the fucking PRIDE PARADE OF PARIS, CAPITAL OF FRANCE. it's over for you losers

This, thanks to a collective of poc, disabled people and of course intersex folks, who took action, "Les Délaissé.e.s des Fiertés".

We're raising awareness against the mutilation of intersex children, and overall medical abuse against all LGBT+ people.

[1-800-deactivatednearu]

Idk if i sent you this request because memories shit but,

Do you know tc2? Typical colors 2, its the roblox and i was wondering if you could draw any of the funny tc2 mercs- *autism eyes*

never sent this to me yet ^_^

[i.d.: a digital drawing of the typical colors 2 cast in a group ensemble, in yellow (neutral colour) uniform. from left to right: flanker, trooper, arsonist, annihilator, brute, mechanic, doctor, marksman, agent. /end i.d.]

some sketches + headcanons below read more, lower quality than my usual but blehhh :P

[i.d.: two sketches. agent, her hand on flanker's shoulder with a distant expression: "Bravo… son." flanker, pulling a face: "What." agent: "She hasn't told you yet?"

agent kisses flanker's mom, captioned: "new stepmom." /end i.d.]

these characters are so young, what do you mean 18-25 age range between flanker and agent?? scary, i have not drawn someone under age thirty (if not forty!) in a while

agent may not be flankers mom but thats not stopping her from traveling to new york for reasons other than business :P

well ! off to visit your mother !

flankers mom design is roughly based off his unused female design

[i.d.: three sketches. marksman, pointing to his scarred eye: "This eye? Gone. Plain can't see out of it." he holds his rifle scope to the scarred eye: "Anyways."

doctor bundles up his coat to staunch mechanic's wound. mechanic ogles doctor's exposed stocky build, captioned "oh wow muscles."

arsonist (captioned "AAC board user"): "Dominated. Scrub." /end i.d.]

i read the domination line. i see others making fun of marksman for being blind. his eye is scarred?? he cannot see out his eye????? the one he puts up to his scope??????

you know i actually played tc2 . for research purposes . and wow mechanics voice is very piercing(?) especially when you play doctor (compare to the softer spoken arsonist and doctor) so its very easy to have him on the mind

i think its good to subvert expectations when you can, soft intellectual doctor with a muscular build thats largely obscured by his clothing

i actually think of the doctor as with russian heritage if only because of his older voice lines :)

is arsonist a robot??? i saw word going around but didnt see anything necessarily canon about it? is this head canon or canon?

interpreted them as an aac user (and a human), i think it would work well with the nature of voice lines in games

[i.d.: two sketches. agent and doctor are glaring at each other and quoting their domination lines for one another. agent, holding a gun to doctor's chest : "Vulnerable. Weak. Easy." doctor, bent over to be glaring up at her: "You're annoying, you're weak, and you're an absolute failure."

brute, talking, captioned: "my friend, infodumping about motorbikes" marksman, smiling at him, captioned: "me, knowing it's my turn to infodump about fishing next"

mechanic has his hand on the flanker's shoulder: "Well son back in my day--" flanker cuts him off, looking skeptical: "My MOM is older than you???" /end i.d.]

i think trying to build off team fortress dynamics for typical colors isnt my thing :( cmon we gotta take these characters by the horns and make our own dynamics and characterizations i believe in us!!!

personally think doctor and agent have something going on . they hate each other they kill each other they kiss with tongue . they have funny domination lines .

mechanic using "son" is funny, this guy cannot be older than agent and yall know shes only 20-25

what do you mean he has a phd. flanker told him that a more useful education for mechanic was in political science, that was absolutely brutal to read

also finding him following engineer team fortress (a texan) in tonal inflection and slang as a western usamerican (not texan) funny . yeeaboo :)

i think the oldest characters would be like . brute and marksman in their 30s . maybe doctor too

i think brute and marksman could get along :) they contrast in a way that i think would play off nicely, someone who is outgoing and upbeat drawing someone more reserved out of their shell

[mekonekou]

uuuugh people please for the love of God get vaccinated. I don't want to be redeployed to the hospital. There's a reason why i didn't go into that work. Your docs and especially your RN and RTs are tired. 

no one will care for your lily white ass dyin’ of COVID if yall keep going like this because compassion fatigue is a real thing. 

it’s really hard to keep feelin sorry for people who die from something that is essentially preventable after we harp on you and everyone else harps on you about it and you turn your back on us and say we’re sus. 

if we’re so sus, how come you come to us to treat you for your heart attacks, strokes, diabetes, hypertension and everything else under the sun? You trust that aspect of medicine but you won’t trust other aspects? 

cuz if that’s the case, then who’s to say treating your diabetes is a load of hogwash and just a conspiracy to get you to inject yourself with stuff that’s not actually insulin but a mind controlling substance laced with other shit? it’s a real slippery slope you’re on and you’re putting your own health and life on the line over the *possibility* of long term side effects. Meanwhile, the actual disease and it’s Delta variant are *very real* and does not discriminate on who it infects. 

You’re not special. You are mortal and a human being. Last time I checked, human beings are susceptible to chance and probability. Perish the “oh it’ll never happen to me” thought, because it can and it very likely will given how prevalent it is right now all over the country. Chances are, your neighbor may have gotten it, that grocery store clerk may have gotten it, that person you typically see at work may have just died the other day in the ICU from it, and you wouldn’t have known it b/c we’re still pretty much in quarantine. 

i am just so tired of this. and now i’m very likely gonna have to go back to working in a hospital when I still got loads of patients outside the hospital trying to schedule an appointment to see me for something else they’ve put off for a whole fucking year or longer because of COVID and they may be getting worse and more sick, but I can’t see them, because i’m now being pulled to the hospital being overfull with patients. there ain’t enough hospitalists to go around and those hospitalists who are working are probably just as, if not more, sick of your shit. And it’s not made better when say a bunch of your staff quit because they just couldn’t take the workload anymore. 

do you get it? do you get it now, how much your actions are affecting everyone else? or do you just not care? because if you don’t, then don’t be surprised when people don’t treat you with care like they should and normally would because they’re probably at their wits end and you’re patient number ### who refused the vaccine and ended up coming for help gasping for air or dying of multi-organ failure when everyone is incredibly short-staffed and doing the work of 2 other people. 

[crowsent]

Reaper At The Gates

Full disclosure, this book has 458 pages and I kinda cried on page 448 so this may or may not make sense because I am FUCKED UP right now. Page 448 has no goddamn diddly fucking RIGHT to be that emotional and Page 449 is fucking CRUEL. The page header. The fucking PAGE HEADER telling me which goddamn POV the chapter is in made my heart SAD and that shit should be illegal. Chapter LVIII had no fucking RIGHT and I’m suing for emotional trauma.

I am crying in the goddamn club right now. I am inundating this club with my tears and bringing about the second great flood because THIS FUCKING BOOK.

If you’ve been with me for ANY amount of time, you already know about this book because I started this book in the goddamn SUMMER of 2K19 and I only just finished today, on the day of our lord, February 10th 20 FUCKING 20. Took me a goddamn year to read this book and honestly?

Honestly I should have fucking finished this book earlier because HOLY SHIT.

The book is a rollercoaster that I got shoved on without a seatbelt or something to hold onto, then subsequently yeeted into a sea of emotions that hit me on the head like a fucking WARHAMMER. The author, Sabaa Tahir, is a goddamn sorceress. Her words are twists and turns and it is all I can do to hold on.

With every fibre of my being, from the pull of my muscles to the creaking of my very bones, I wish so so desperately to have copies of the first two books so I can experience them again. So I can start the journey all over again. So that when I read this FUCKING BOOK, everything is fresh on my mind.

It’s the third book in the Ember In The Ashes series and when I say that I am shooketh. This book swung for my goddamn kneecaps and went for my jugular.

It is painful.

Let me say this right fucking now that it is PAINFUL. The imagery is beautiful and brutal. The sentences are skillfully crafted knives that are thrown at me with precision. It is a thunderstorm that has long since been spotted but has yet to strike. Anticipation builds and builds and builds until you feel like you’re going to crack under the pressure. And then the storm comes. And you break.

This book is fucking painful. Characters I’ve loved, characters I saw laughing, crying, howling with hurt, characters that I’ve grown attached to, are subjected to so many things that I can’t help but feel for them. They are clay, Tahir is the sculptor, and I am the poor fool watching them get broken down to be molded again, hoping desperately that this time, this time, they’ll be fine.

It’s fucking painful.

And beautiful.

Because this book is a goddamn thunderstorm, and it finally struck. It set fires that burned down trees and houses, but lit up a dark night. These characters grow so much and I grow with them. My mind is constantly thinking with every page I turned, trying to find some comfort when the book offered me pain, trying to find the wounds when I am offered mercy.

The plot is strong. The characters are stronger. All three of the main leads are thoughtfully crafted. You can see into their minds when they speak. You can feel every beat of their heart when they act. You can hear their goddamn fucking souls crying out with every atrocity they face and witness and commit. And the villain? I pity him. I pity him and hate him and love him. The villain is not a force of pure evil. The villain is broken. And some part of me wants him to win. The side characters are no slouch either. That small snippet of Alistar made my breath hitch and my heart harden. And Alistar is one of the lesser side characters, not as prominent as Harper or Dex, but he was there and I was not okay. And Keris. Just. Keris.

And the best part is that ALL of the characters change. They grow, for better or worse.

I don’t think it’s for everyone because of its kind of sensitive content. War. Slavery. The brutality of mankind on full display. Pain and pain and pain with nothing to show for it. Failure and sadness and betrayal. Hurt that runs so deep it colours the soul. But if you can handle that kind of content, read it.

You kind of have to read the first two books, but the third one is worth it. The first two books are good, but this one is visceral. I felt empty when I finished, and I felt different when I finished. Not in any kind of profound way, mind you. This book didn’t change my life or anything, but it did change me.

It made me think of things a little bit too deep for my usual shitposting fuckall veneer. It made me think of life and death, of duty and sacrifice, of pain and love and of people. Not everyone is black and white. Even the darkest of souls, the most monstrous of monsters, the most ruthless, heartless, cruel, vicious beasts have some good in them. They can love and they can mourn. They can fight to the death for what they believe in. And even the kindest people, the ones with bright smiles and gentle hands, the ones who are sunlight on a dark day, can be capable of wickedness.

I don’t think about the duality of man that often. By that I mean never. On a subconscious, hidden part of me, I know that mankind is never black and white. Everyone is grey. Someone who hated you so deeply can love someone so much it aches. Someone you would bring the stars down for could be a hideous sinful creature. And this book brought that to the surface. It made me LOOK.

The series was always a little dark, but I underestimated how deep this cesspool of emotions ran. The line “Skies save me from the men in my life and all the things they think they know” did not, in any way, reveal just how much of a painful, beautiful, vicious thing this book was.

The prophecies made me wrack my head for an answer. And just when I think I have it in my grasp, something else gets revealed. “When the Butcher bows to the deepest love of all.” A love for kinsmen, for the Butcher’s people, for the Butcher’s family. And the Ghost? “The Ghost will fall, her flesh will wither.” When the meaning, the TRUE meaning of that line got revealed, I lost my shit. This book yall. This fucking book.

My only major gripe about it is how much it used the word “bleeding” as a swear word. Y’all call Keris “piece of shit human being” Veturia the Bitch of Blackcliff but y’all won’t let Laia of Serra say the word fuck? Okay. But we ain’t talking about that.

Fourth book is coming and boy fucking howdy I was not prepared for how much I want it. I want it so much I can’t put it into words. What I can put into words, somewhat, is how much I feel for THAT scene. You know. THAT scene. Spoilers for the three things that destroyed me the most emotionally below

What we are talking about, is Helene Aquilla. She deserved none of the shit that happened to her. My beautiful, beautiful daughter deserved none of the pain, none of the suffering, none of the tears and the worry and the strife she was given. My daughter deserves to be HAPPY goddammit. And what? First you subject her to emotional trauma by having Marcus torture her sister over and over. You poison Livvy and subject Helene to a terror so visceral and vicious that she blames herself for putting Livvy in danger even though it wasn’t her fault? You tease the Harper thing but then you take it away from her. Just like you take everything away from her.

How fucking dareth????? Helene deserves more than that??? Like the Harper/Helene ship has set sail and docked in the empty harbour of my heart. Their interactions are so goddamn GOOD and then you take everything away just like that. They kiss near the end of the book and all of a sudden, it’s gone. It’s nothing.

That moment in Navium? Where Helene was almost killed but saved at the last and final moment? The scene where Harper urges Helene to trust him, to let him carry some of her burdens, to allow Harper to see part of her. “Needing protection is not a weakness. Refusing to trust your allies is.” That quote ripped me the fuck apart. And I think it was this moment that the Helene/Harper ship truly and irrevocably burrowed within me. I will not let this go. I will, and I do not say this lightly, go down with this fucking ship. Even if it burns and drops into the bottom of the ocean as nothing but wasted wood, I will go down with this fucking ship because BRUH.

And Laia of Serra? First you have her captured. Then you have her see her people beaten over and over again. Then, and fucking THEN you have her discover her mother’s identity and the violence her mother has committed right before her meeting with Cook? You fucking do that shit?????? HELLO?????

That reveal destroyed me. Cook has been with us since the first book. She was something familiar. Amidst all the chaos and suffering, cook was the one single constant in the book. No matter how much the scene changed, or how the plot shifted, Cook was always there. Always present. And we learn that she is Laia’s mother. And THEN she fucking dies. And Laia has to live the rest of her life knowing that her mother had been so close to her, and she never noticed. Knowing that her mother died to protect her. Like nani the fucko was up with that??????

But you know what really hurts about Cook? What really hammers the rusty nail of pain inside my long-dead heart?

It’s the stutter.

For some goddamn fucking reason, when Cook said “You’re just like your f-f-f-fath-” I FELT that. Some part of me recoiled. I wanted to put the book down. Because while I knew that she killed her daughter and husband, I never had to actually KNOW that she killed her daughter and husband. That scene was impersonal. That scene was much like how Mirra of Serra snapped the necks of the people she loved. Quick. Painless. I did not know that she killed her daughter and husband because when that scene happened, Mirra of Serra was just putting them to sleep. But then she stuttered. “L-L-L-L-Lis.” “F-fath-fath” And she can’t say it. Because their deaths haunt them.

Because she killed them.

That was the moment it sank in for me. She is not Mirra of Serra. She is Cook. Because Mirra of Serra died with Lis. Because Mirra of Serra died with her husband. Because Mirra of Serra died long ago and this was the moment I realised it. “Curse this world for what it does to the mothers, for what it does to the daughters,” Helene said. I fucking agree. Out of everyone in the cast, the world took the most from Cook. I will never get over that.

But you know the one thing that really destroyed me? The one thing that made me realise that this book IS merciless and this book WILL shoot for a killing blow?

LVIII

The penultimate chapter.

The bitch of a chapter that took what’s left of my heart, raw and bleeding from the miraculous escape and alliance in the previous chapter, and just shattered it. It squeezed my raw, vulnerable, bleeding heart until it was nothing but dust.

Look at the chapter title.

LVIII: The Soul Catcher

Not Elias. The Soul Catcher.

He’s not Elias anymore.

Elias is gone.

He’s just the Soul Catcher now.

[howlingheartdemigod]

yall want some angst?

I thought this was going to be a little no sweat three page angst fest feat a resurrection ritual for yasha, but then it turned into seven pages of tender heartbreak and beau’s self doubt so. enjoy?

‘to be alive is the strange and wondrous miracle we forget'  -atticus, the dark between stars 

strange and wondrous miracle

It seemed impossible, if Beau was going to be honest. It seemed unfathomable. Ridiculous. Unimaginable. Yasha couldn’t be dead. Yasha was unbreakable. She’d taken thousands of hits, from enemies more terrible and terrifying. After all Yasha had been through, after war, and loss, and breaking free of a prison made of her own mind, she wouldn’t be felled by this. She would be okay. She had to be okay. Of course she was okay.

She was barely breathing when Beau got to her. With a trembling hand, she searched for a pulse under pale skin, searched for proof of life. It was too faint for comfort. 

“Jester!” To her own ears, Beau’s voice sounded strange. Sounded like some kind of wild creature, violently screaming for solace. The adrenaline was still harsh in her system, still clouding her gaze. She whipped her head around, the fight still raging behind her. “‘Duceus!” She searched the fray for a splash of pink, a flicker of blue, but it was too dark, it was too fucking dark. She couldn’t see anything, not when she’d given Caleb her goggles so he could cast. ‘Fucking, human shitty eyes,’ She spun, looking back to Yasha, just close enough to make her out in the darkness. “Fuck, fuck, I don’t…” Beau searched her pockets, head shaking. “I don’t have any potions, fuck, Yash.” She felt desperation rising up, ignoring the battle behind her. “Yasha, please, just hang on.” She turned her head, shouting back into the fight. “We need a healer! Yasha’s down! We need-”

A sharp pain took over Beau’s system, then the world went black.

“There we go, Beauregard.” Caleb’s voice filtered through the darkness. Something in her wanted to hit him with a pillow. There was light, dim, presumably magical from overhead, then the feeling of an arm under her shoulders, helping her sit. The distinctive scratch of a healing potion lingered in her throat as she blinked awake. She wasn’t sure what it was about them, but she always felt like the had a cough after drinking one. Beau blinked, trying to remember where she was, and why the back of her head hurt so fucking much. 

“Fuck.” Beau muttered, a hand going to the side of her head. The memory of the fight slowly started to filter through, “What hap- Yasha. Fuck, where’s-” Her gaze met Caleb’s, saw the shine of tears, and felt her heart stop. “No.” she glanced around, eyes catching on the cluster, a good ten feet of from where she had crumpled by the wall. “Fuck, fuck.” 

Standing was a challenge, but Caleb helped, offering a shoulder, muttering an explanation. “I don’t know how we missed it, whatever that thing on the wall was, but by the time I saw you it was trying to eat you.” She glanced back, noticing now the charred mass of what was probably once a body. She turned her gaze back. “It must have hit you in the head to knock you out. I- I am sorry Beauregard, none of this would have happened if I hadn’t pestered you about the goggles.” 

Beau shook her head, swallowing around a lump in her throat, “Not your fault.” She managed, head shaking. “I was right there. I was right there, and I couldn’t… I didn’t have any healing potions on me, and I can’t fucking cast healing spells.” She took a shaky breath. “I was useless.”

“You tried.” Caleb sounded like he was attempting hope, but it was too foreign a concept to him. 

The words were heavy on her tongue as they drew close enough to see, as they could peer over the form their friends clustered around. Beau stared down at Yasha in the dim glow of dancing lights, taking in her skin, paler than ever before, her slack jaw, her distant unseeing eyes. Beau didn’t say it, but the words rang between them, vibrations choking off Beau’s lungs. ‘I failed.’

Beau pulled away from Caleb, stumbling to collapse down next to Yasha. She reached a hand out, grabbing her pale wrist softly. The stillness of her veins was the loudest thing Beau’d ever felt. She looked up at Jester, then to Caducus, “Can you fix this?” she pleaded softly, begging the shell shocked clerics. They seemed just as stunned as she was, that death was even a possibility for Yasha. 

‘Stupid,’ some dark voice crept up to chide, ‘Everyone dies, everyone leaves. Leaves you. Or you abandon them. You got her killed, and look at you, too weak to bring her back. Just like Molly. Least they’ll be together.’

“Please.” Beau managed, against the rolling tide of voices in her head popping up to call her a failure. 

Caduceus looked to Jester, who’s lips parted, a thought slowly coming to surface. “I might… I’ve never… There’s something that the Traveler told me about, but I’ve never done it.”

The Firbolg’s head tilted, the soft rumble that made up his voice warming the air. “I think I know what you’re talking about. We could try. I don’t think… I don’t know if I can pull it off right now. I’m a little tapped.”

“I can try.” Jester said softly, nodding a little. She looked to Caducus, then over to Beau. “We have to try.” 

Jester set up the ritual circle, Caducus helped find the components, Nott smoothed Yasha’s eyes shut. Lots of things happened, Beau was relatively numb to it all. She fucked this up. She did this. She’s been the reason that Yasha fell. All her fault. A small hand touched her shoulder, claws grazing the skin.

“Here.” Nott’s voice was small, cold metal pressing to Beau’s hand. “Drink. Deep breaths.” Nott’s eyes were wet with tears, her mouth twisted. “You have to breathe.”

Beau took the flask, drinking heavily. The burn was nice. She wasn’t sure what kind of liquor it was. She didn’t know if Nott knew either. She choked around a gulp, and pulled away coughing. She felt eyes cut to her, catching, seeing she was okay, and moving back to the task. There were more important things to worry about than a mess getting drunk. Beau handed the flask back, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. “Thanks.” she managed. 

Nott pressed her lips. “I know I’m not… very good at being encouraging.”

“No shit.” 

“-but…” she fixed Beau with a glare before continuing. “I think you did good. And that there’s good left to do. We have a chance, right?”

Beau took a deep breath, focusing on the rise of her stomach, the drop of tension from her shoulders. Memories swirled around, failing to hear the Iron Shepards take three of her friends at once, failing to stop the Laughing Hand, failing to save Yasha here. God, they’d just gotten her back. She lifted her eyes, staring at Yasha’s form, guarded by a quiet Fjord and Caleb. “Right.” she said. “Right.” I won’t fail again. 

Nott offered a hand, Beau took it, and they walked back over to where Jester was setting up the ritual, both trying to pretend that they are strong, despite already haven broken. 

When it came time to move Yasha to the ritual circle, Beau went to help Fjord do so. They quietly coordinated, arms under knees and bracing shoulders, Yasha’s head lolling back like some old painting of some forgotten hero lifted by the gods. Beau couldn’t rip her eyes away. Yasha looked so small, even needing two of them to lift her, she looked so fragile. Beau’d never seen that before, Yasha looking weak. 

Once they lowered her down, Fjord put a hand on Beau’s shoulder. “Hey,” He said. “We’ve got this.” He promised.

Beau wanted to ask how he knew. Wanted to see if it was a lie. Wanted to know. She instead pressed her lips, nodded, and muttered “Aye, aye, cap’n.” Before pulling back to sit at the edge of the circle, hands folded over her knees. 

She watched Fjord retreat, standing near Jester, who’d never learned how to hide her nerves. Beau’s eyes bounced around the room, trying to focus anywhere but where her eyes felt drawn to. Jester’s voice rang out, calling out to the Traveler, but Beau couldn’t hear, exactly, not when she was looking at Yasha’s pale face, white skin, fair ends to her hair, still tinged red with blood. 

The runes below Yasha started glowing, pulling a gasp from Beau’s lips. The verdant green drifted up, the room seemed to be filled with the smell of a thousand different winds, a thousand different paths. She looked over to Jester, seeing a small secret smile start on her lips. “Okay.” Jester said, nodding. “We have to offer something up. It can be anything, words, an item, both.” she looked around, eyes locking with Beau’s. “We have to convince her to come back, from wherever she is.”

Well that was gonna be a real fucking task. Wherever Yasha was, Beau was sure, was beautiful. She deserved it. Fields of flowers, soft music, Mollymauk’s laughter, and Zuala. She deserved all that. And Beau was selfish enough to ask Jester to take that all away. 

Too fucking late to back out now. At least this way if Yasha doesn’t come back, Beau knows it was a choice. It was something more beautiful to choose on the other side. 

There was a quiet moment of shuffling, as glances were shared above Beau’s head, silent conversations she refused to be apart of. Then, slowly, Caduceus shuffled forward, lowering down next to Yasha. Beau pressed her lips, considering moving away, not listening, but his words came soft and clear, like he didn’t mind who heard. 

“I don’t claim to know the way that fate is woven.” He reached and took her hand, frowning a little. “I know that cords pass over, and tie together, and end. I know some get cut off before the tapestry is completed. And I know that you’ve seen too many cut off too soon.” He smiled a little, holding something small in his hand. “But I don’t think your thread ends here, and I know we certainly don’t want it to. People like you and I, who serve things above us, we have a responsibility. Yours, I think, isn’t over yet. Your destiny is still coming. I’d like it if you would come back and be apart of it.” 

Caduceus smiled at her softly, and she saw him give her hand a little squeeze. Something in the air pulled tighter. She wondered if that meant that Yasha was getting closer to them, pushing in, or farther, stretching the connection. She swallowed, watching Caduceus retreat back a bit, watching those around her shuffle, looking at one another. She nearly cleared her throat, nearly moved in, nearly tried to voice what was scrambling around in her head. Spilling all her embarrassing feelings out, baring her soul to someone who would not be persuaded by what she had to offer, someone she’d already failed. 

Thankfully, Jester dropped down to her knees, digging through her haversack. “Okay, uhm…” Jester’s eyes were still full of tears, even as she spoke clear, determined. “I told you once, that if you said the word, we would all have your back.” Her eyes dragged up to Yasha, breath hitching a little, before dropping back down to her bag. She pulled her sketchbook free flipping through, searching for something. She pressed her lips. “I meant it. I meant it when I said we would be your family now. I think we all did. I…” Jester’s eyes shifted around the space. “We love you, Yasha. We all love you very much.” Her eyes looked back to the book, the, carefully, she tore a sheet out. “I know sometimes you have to be strong, too strong. That’s not fair, but I… Please be a little strong again, okay? Just strong enough to come back to us, one more time. We’ll cover the rest for a few days, just as long as you come back.” 

Over Jester’s shoulder, Beau caught a glimpse of a drawing, half colored, beautiful, of Yasha, sitting on a hillside somewhere, surrounded by flowers and butterflies, looking off in the distance. Beau’s breath caught, catching glimpses of the butterflies, one was green and black, another orange and brown. A green and yellow one seemed to spiral with a pink and blue, and above Yasha’s head danced a teal one, fading to pink at the tips of the wings, along with a purple one, painted carefully with intricate familiar patterns. On Yasha’s outstretched finger sat one that was cobalt blue and jade. Most stunningly, Jester had drawn Yasha’s wings, but restored, feathered, beautiful. It was beautiful, it was amazing. Beau’s heart broke thinking that Yasha would never see it. Jester folded the piece, and pressed it into Yasha’s hand, taking a careful breath. “Come back to us. We need you.”

The silence settled over them as the magic, as Yasha, seemed to consider it. Beau lifted her gaze to find all eyes on her. She bit her lip. She and Yasha… their friendship had gotten complicated. Since Yasha broke from the Laughing Hand, since Beau’s faith had wavered. She thought, maybe, before that they were growing closer. But things had gotten… strained since she came back to them. The first thing Yasha’d done when she came back to was look at Beau, mutter an apology, then collapsed to her knees. But there hadn’t been time. There hadn’t been a moment’s pause. Beau had hooked an arm under Yasha’s and pulled her up. They needed to keep moving, to keep going. There was work left to do, the Laughing Hand left to kill, a war left to stop. So Beau had dragged Yasha along, talking softly to her, telling her she’d be her strength. Telling her she didn’t need to apologize. Telling her there was no way in hell Beau was ever letting her walk ahead again. Telling her how important she was. How amazing. How Beau would put her lift on the line before ever letting her get hurt again. All said to a wall of silence. 

They’d made it out, and Beau had barely said three words strung together to Yasha in the week since. 

Yet, here she was being asked, being expected, to bare her soul in front of everyone to someone who likely would not respond. 

Beau dropped her gaze, debating it. Worst case scenario, she was honest. Honest about how she felt. Honest about how it scared her. Honest about how she needed her. Honest about it all. And everyone would hear her, and Yasha would still be dead. 

If the worst option you have is being honest with your friends, what choice do you really have. 

Beau moved closer, chewing her lip. She reached out, hand shaking, to take Yasha’s. “I know that… I know that where you are right now is probably pretty great. I don’t know what the afterlife looks like for heroes, but you are one, so I’m sure you’re there. I know you probably have a lot there.” She swallowed, thinking of Molly’s laugh, Yasha’s smile when she spoke of her wife. “More than you have here, that’s for sure. Tell Molly hi, if you can. I know…” Beau took a breath, glancing around at her friends. They all looked so nervous, nervous that Beau would fuck up. Nervous that Yasha was gone for good. She dropped her eyes back to Yasha, trying to focus. “Yasha, we must pale in comparison. I must… I’m really bad at this, Yasha. I’m really bad at… honesty. Venerability. Feelings crap. But losing you showed me that I need you. That when I don’t have you I want you. That when you’re gone I miss you. Yasha, I was never the sort of person who thought I’d get to love someone like you, but I do. And the wild thing is I don’t care if you love me back. I don’t. I just care that you’re here. That you’re alive and safe. I… you’re just amazing. I have too much to say and no idea how to say it. But I’d like to figure it out. How to say that I admire you. How to say that I’m proud of you. How to say that I forgive you. I hope you forgive me too. I want to figure out how to say all that. So, come back, so we can figure it out together, yeah? Just… come back.” 

Beau took a breath, closing her eyes, and giving her hand a squeeze. There was a moment, a second, when all was silent, when she could feel the magic pressing down. Then, the hand she grasped started moving. Beau opened her eyes to see Yasha being lifted by some unseen force, the air around her sparking with lightning. Beau lifted her hand, refusing to let go, refusing to see Yasha taken away. She parted her lips, ready to call out, to beg, to do anything to keep her there, when the glowing stopped, when the magic lifted, when Yasha fell back to the floor, slowed inches from the floor by the toss of a feather from Caleb’s hand. 

Beau lifted her free hand to Yasha’s neck, feeling for a pulse, praying to whichever God was most likely to listen. Time seemed to pause, Beau’s fingers shaking against Yasha. She swallowed, eyes pooling with tears, not breathing, before she felt a pulse, strong and clear, beneath the pale skin. Beau let out a shaky laugh, lifting her eyes to Jester. “Can you heal her, wake her up, is she…” Before Beau could finish speaking, she felt the hand she still clutched tighten its grip. She felt a thumb drift soft patterns along the back of her hand. She looked down to find Yasha’s eyes, hazy with pain, locked on her. An apology bubbled to her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” A crackle of heat sparked as Yasha lifted a hand to brush against Beau’s face, against her lip, and the pain that had been lingering in Beau’s system faded. Her eyes tracked her hand as it fell back to her side, seeing Yasha’s healing magic was still drifting off. “You…” 

Yasha moved to sit up, forcing Beau to stumble back from her knees to the ground to keep from bumping her. Yasha’s eyes scanned Beau’s face, seeming satisfied. “You had a split lip.” She rasped. Her hair still had blood in it, her skin was still pale, her fingers cold, but she was alive. She was alive.

Before Beau could think of how to reply, Jester had thrown herself down, hands sparking with green healing magic as she hugged Yasha, talking a mile a minute about how scared she’d been. Beau, slowly, pulled away, letting go of Yasha’s hand, realizing how unsteady she’d become. She dragged herself back, as Caducus dropped to a knee to hand Yasha a potion, as Nott moved to hug Yasha, as the world started moving again around her. 

Eventually, Fjord came over to pull her to her feet. Eventually, they started moving quietly, carefully through the rest of the danger. Eventually they made it to somewhere safe to camp for the night. Eventually Beau stopped feeling quite so shaken, and started feeling stupid. Eventually, she found a way to look at Yasha again, out of the corner of her eye, while Beau was taking watch, and Yasha slept soundly, safely, nearby. Eventually, Beau stopped looking, keeping her eyes on the distance, ready to fight whatever tried to come their way. 

Nothing came out of the woods that night, and the next morning Caleb had it in him to draw the complicated sigils and glyphs to get them home quickly. Beau kept her eyes on some faraway point, heart lodged firmly in her throat. She followed Yasha through the teleportation circle, hating the moment when she couldn’t see Yasha. As she stepped through to their house in Rosohna, her gaze shot around, only to find that Yasha was already looking at her. Silence rang through the room, until Nott stepped through the circle behind them, and the rest of their party shortly there after. Jester’s arm was through Yasha’s, and Caducus was promising tea, and Beau fell back to her room, instead of following, instead of asking the question on her lips.

“Could you hear me? Do you remember what I said?”

‘A stupid thing to ask, anyway,’ Beau told herself, moving to change into something clean so she could go punch things in their training room. ‘A stupid thing to want to know.’

Beau found her way up to Caduceus Garden in what she figured was the middle of the night. She couldn’t actually be sure, with the permanent darkness, but she thought she saw stars in the distance, so she hoped, at least, that it was night. Everyone was asleep inside, that was certain, with the exception of Caduceus, who was in the library, pouring over some religious texts they’d picked up along the way. Beau had checked on everyone twice (and some more than that.) She wouldn’t be able to sleep if she tried, so she did what she was good at; she took watch. She tracked the comings and goings of people in the street, she counted guard shifts, she didn’t think of Yasha’s hand on her face, she didn’t think of how foolish she’d been, she didn’t think about how much she wished she’d been brave enough to kiss Yasha then and there, how it was her only chance.

She didn’t think of that. She didn’t let herself think of that. That was stupid and foolish, and, gods, it was all she could think of. She lifted a hand to her face, to the faint remains of a busted lip lingering on her skin, and she couldn’t help but smile, eyes drifting shut. She was so caught up, she almost didn’t hear footsteps on the stairs, she almost didn’t open her eyes in time to see two toned hair, and two toned eyes rise from the stairs. She cleared her throat as Yasha looked to her, managing a smile. “Hey.”

“Hello.” Yasha replied, seemingly frozen. “I was looking for some fresh air.” 

Beau was an idiot. Yasha was looking for solace and Beau had invaded that. “I’ll clear off, sorry.” She replied, a flurry of movement, sliding down the few feet that she’d climbed the tree. 

“I was also looking for you.” Yasha’s words came out in a rush, and from the look on her face, they even shocked her. She’d moved on them, out of the trap door, onto the rooftop garden, taking clear steps towards Beau. “I was… I wanted to…”

“I’m glad you’re not dead, Yasha.” Beau interrupted, looking up at Yasha, realizing how close the other woman had come. “I didn’t say that before, so I wanted to… I wanted to say that now. I’m really glad you’re okay, I’m glad that you picked… I’m glad that we could bring you back, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t more careful. There’s no way in hell I’m not keeping potions on me from now on, I don’t know how I was that-”

“I miss you when I’m gone too.” Yasha’s eyes were wide, lips parted. She looked so nervous, so small, but her eyes sparkled in the magic lights Caduceus had created above them, and she was looking at Beau, and she was saying something impossible. She was saying she’d heard, she was saying, on some level, she felt the same. “I miss you a lot.” 

Beau stared at Yasha, jaw slack. “You do?”

“I do.” Yasha’s hand lifted, seemingly of its own accord to trace along where Beau’s lip had been broken. “And I would like to help you figure out to say all the rest, if you’ll have me.” 

Beau could have lit all of Rosohna with her smile. “Happily.” 

It seemed impossible, unfathomable, ridiculous, amazing. But, as Beau learned that Yasha’s kiss tasted like air after rain, she couldn’t help but smile into it. Couldn’t help it, because Yasha was alive, Yasha had heard her, and Yasha had picked her back.

[divinesrules]

I keep on saying it but I feel soo different! Here's why, I'm letting go of sooo many things. So many standards, so many people, negativity, failures, regrets. I'm just doing my own thing, letting other people do their own thing. WHATEVER FLOATS YOUR BOAT HONEY. we all know life is not easy, being a human is honestly so underestimated its not as easy as it seems. This might sound soo ridiculous. But we have so many obligations; towards society, friends, family, partners, ourself. So if you find a way to make it more bearable in any way (as long as you don't hurt anybody) go ahead! Shine your light!! We get so bothered and so much in our feelings about what other people do with their lives. Honey that is so selfish and such a waist of time ! You only get ONE shot at life and so does the next person. So why go ahead and ruling over their only one shot at life by judging the way they decided to make it count!? Focus on your own happiness don't be bitter because the next person doesn't have the same definition of happiness that you have. Honestly looking at people flourishing is such a beautiful thing!

I finally decided to listen to my gut feelings ', my true feelings. First thing they told me? "girl you know damn well you ain't straight.". Honestly I've never really been a fan of labels. So let's say, I dig vibes, charisma, personality no matter the gender. Also, thinking about it; love,attraction are just feelings and I can have those feelings for any type of person. (and let's be honest girls are hot asf!!) ( is this a coming out?? Wait whuuuuttt)

I've wanted to study med. for soooo long! It's a dream to me to actually go in war zone and save lives. But I've been thinking about it for quiet some time and I'm going to study law. It's so weird when you thought something was your calling but at the end of the day you still change your mind. Which is perfectly normal and fine... really!

Also falling for multiple people at the same time who are sooo different. I seriously don't understand how I can relate to so many different personalities. I seriously don't feel like ONE person. Like all of my personalities are seriously not in coalition. But also enjoying being back in the game.

I was soooo keen on monogamous relationship, fidelity,.. Yall at this point the concept sounds like messed up trash tbh (check out : explained--monogamy) I've low-key always have kinda thought monogamous relationship was kinda off but I never wanted to give it more thoughts cause thats just not how it goes in our society.. Yk? But my hatred for infedility got reinforced when I was soooo many strong women I love with all my heart getting destroyed by their cheating husband. They lost.. That fire. That ugh! But yeah got cheated on myself. That shit hits you right in the balls. quick shout out to my ex; sorry you didn't meet me after I saw that episode on monogamy, maybe we would have had a threesome with that girl!!

Realized Taylor swift has been preaching for the longest with that "never getting back together" song. Personallyyyyy I could go back talking to any guy I've had thing/ flirt with in the past even though something messed up. But yaaaaalll a relationship?? Hopes, sweat, tears, commitment expectations and all that shit is a real ass investment!! Why would I reinvest in something that made me broke?? If it was a bad investment why would you reinvest? Sis/bro if your partner shows his real face, pulls out all them flags don't find an excuse. Runnnn don't turn around you might trip on something! Gotta admit I wasn't tempted to look back, like I said infedility kicks me right in the balls.

Almost forgot this one! I've been having the most random health issues lately. That shit got your girl thinking she was about to die, wished I was kidding! Feeling my body giving up on me and my health getting shittier each day and staying home for soo long was such a shitty phase! Some of the symptoms showed some signs of me being in a very anxious state. Guys I never feel anxious. This almost feels like I'm in a double reality.

On a good note I had one hell of a great kiss today, the ones that make you melt right on the spot and it was worth the 3 years wait!!