#Unable to interact with the outside world in anyway

[completeoveranalysis]

[5]

The UNEASE when one of the fun Mokona quotes of the series (Mokona is Mokona) is thrown BACK AT MOKONA in the distressing time loop situation (The princess means the princess!)

Kurogane visibly SWEATING (from the heat, as Fai observed last chapter?) as he wonders when in the timeline of Clow this is. ME TOO KUROGANE THANK YOU FOR THIS. 

Lava Lamp does his dialogue duty and asks the npc directly so let’s see let’s see

Do you think I will like this answer. 

I do not. 

SEVEN

BABY SAKURA TIMELINE ACTIVATED

BABY APPLE SAKURA TIMELINE ACCIDENTALLY ACCURATE?

I have deep deep appreciation for the murder dads getting to react in shock at these revelations and then also vocally discuss the implications of everything between them. I’m living for this active investigation. It’s all spiraling further and further into confusion but they’re keeping all the pieces together in a logical form for now. And LOVE that expression on Fai when he says they won’t find any useful answers here.

Meanwhile Mokona asks her own question in the investigation (about seeing Sakura, because Mokona is always a darling) but the answer is that she’s not in the castle. The pause in everyone’s reaction to this makes me think the next line he says is going to be even worse. 

INTERESTING. 

This is new information (to us) but Lava Lamp reflects on this as if he should have been able to figure this out all the way back here. WHEN HE WAS ALSO SEVEN.

WHEN HE WAS SEVEN YEARS OLD (or close enough) AND TRAPPED IN A LAVA LAMP, UNABLE TO DO ANYTHING AT ALL EXCEPT LOOK THROUGH SOMEONE ELSE’S EYE, and he still thinks he should have been able to piece together the mystery from the fact that Sakura did purification rituals at the ruins before her birthday. 

Hindsight can be a bitch to deal with but Lava Lamp is just unerringly hard on himself. 

[joelsrose]

Mr Miller

I had an itch …..

Mrs. Miller’s laughter rang through the entryway, light and carefree, as you closed the book resting in your lap. You stood slowly, hesitating for a moment before rounding the corner to see her near the door. Joel stood behind her, his arms wrapped securely around her waist as he leaned down, nipping playfully at her ear. She swatted at him with a laugh, her cheeks flushed, and he smiled, his face soft and unguarded.

You froze, your stomach twisting as if you’d intruded on something deeply private. The moment was too intimate, too raw, and you suddenly felt out of place, like you didn’t belong in their carefully constructed world.

“Oh!” Mrs. Miller exclaimed, straightening up the moment she noticed you standing there. Joel didn’t move, his hands still resting comfortably on her waist, but his gaze flicked to yours. His expression didn’t falter—if anything, his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“How were the girls?” Mrs. Miller asked, her tone breezy as she grabbed her purse.

“Perfect, as always,” you said, forcing a smile as you shifted the weight of your bag on your shoulder.

“Good,” she said with a nod, pulling out her wallet. She moved toward you, counting out bills. “Seventy okay?”

You blinked in surprise. It was more than she usually paid you for babysitting —more than the agreed amount.

Your gaze flicked briefly to Joel, who remained rooted in place, watching the interaction with an unreadable expression. Maybe she was feeling generous after a good night with her husband.

“That’s too much,” you protested, shaking your head slightly.

Mrs. Miller waved you off with a smile. “You’re in college,” she said, her tone light but faintly condescending. “I remember what that used to be like. Trust me, you need it more than I do.”

You forced another smile despite the subtle sting of her words. “Thank you,” you said softly, pocketing the money.

“Anyways,” you added, adjusting your bag again, “I should get going—”

“Wait,” Joel interrupted, stepping forward, his voice low and steady. “Wanna show you something.”

You hesitated, your heart picking up pace as Mrs. Miller turned to look at him with an exasperated smile.

“Joel, if it’s those damn ducks outside, I swear to God,” she said with a playful sigh, shaking her head.

“Ducks?” you asked, your confusion clear.

“They’re swans,” Joel corrected, his tone deadpan as he finally glanced at his wife. Without waiting for a response, he gestured for you to follow him. “C’mon.”

You hesitated, unsure whether to follow, but Mrs. Miller shook her head, waving you off with a smirk. “He’s obsessed,” she said, ascending the stairs with her purse slung over her shoulder. “The quicker you follow him, the quicker you’ll be free to get out of here and live your life.” She paused, turning back briefly to wink at you. “Thanks again for tonight.”

You stood there for a moment, caught in a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, unease, and the nagging curiosity Joel always seemed to spark in you. Finally, with a resigned sigh, you followed him out the door, stepping into the crisp evening air, unsure of what you were walking into but unable to stop yourself from finding out.

Joel held the door open, waiting for you to follow him. He leaned casually against the frame, his broad shoulders filling the space with an ease that felt effortless. He looked handsome—too handsome. His shirt, crisp and perfectly fitted, tugged slightly over his chest, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Mrs. Miller had chosen his outfit for the night. The thought sent a pang of jealousy through you, unwelcome and irrational, but there all the same.

You wondered fleetingly about their bedroom—what side of the bed he slept on, what he wore to bed, whether he kept a book on the nightstand or if he simply rolled over and fell asleep. The thought twisted something in your chest, and you quickly brushed it aside, stepping past him and out into the cool evening air.

As you passed him, his scent wrapped around you, clean and woodsy, with a hint of something expensive—too expensive for you to recognize. It lingered, warm and enticing, as he closed the door softly behind you.

Joel gestured toward the edge of the pool, his hand resting briefly on the glass pool fence as he leaned against it. The water shimmered under the glow of the patio lights, its surface reflecting the silver-blue hue of the moon hanging high in the sky.

Joel reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, the soft rustle of the lighter breaking the silence. The flame flickered briefly, illuminating his face in warm gold as he lit it. He turned to you, the cigarette dangling from his fingers, offering it to you with his eyes—a silent invitation.

“Oh, no thanks,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t smoke.”

Joel nodded, tucking the cigarette back between his lips. “That’s good,” he said, his voice low, the words curling around the smoke. “Nasty habit.”

But he didn’t stop.

You shifted on your feet, wrapping your arms around yourself against the cool breeze. “So,” you said, trying to fill the quiet. “Swans?”

Joel didn’t answer. Instead, he exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. “Sophie hates when I smoke,” he said finally, his tone almost conversational, as though he wasn’t ignoring your question entirely.

“Oh,” you replied, unsure of what else to say. You weren’t too sure he was discussing his wife’s distaste with you but you didn’t move.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Think she hates the fact that it lingers on my clothes more than the fact that it can kill me.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and unresolved, as you stood beside him, both of you looking out at the pool, at the moon, at anything but each other. There was something unspoken in his posture, in the way he leaned against the glass as if it was holding more than just his weight.

You swallowed hard, feeling the tension between you shift and swell, the quiet night amplifying every unspoken word. Joel took another drag of his cigarette, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the moon, and you wondered, not for the first time, what thoughts haunted him in moments like this.

“What do you like about it?” you asked hesitantly, unsure of how to break the thick silence between you.

Joel turned his head toward you, his expression unreadable. He shrugged, the movement lazy, like he had nothing to prove. “Tastes like crap,” he admitted, taking another slow drag of the cigarette. “But like I said, becomes a habit.”

You nodded, glancing around the patio. Still no swans.

“So,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet as he turned to face you fully. “What’s your bad habit?”

You blinked, taken aback by the question. Was he tipsy from dinner? His tone was casual, but there was something in the way his gaze lingered on you, sharp and assessing, that made your pulse quicken.

“Uh,” you stammered, shifting awkwardly. “I don’t… I don’t really have one.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a small, amused smile. “So you’re perfect?”

“No,” you said quickly, scoffing as your cheeks burned. “I just don’t really… you know.” You gestured vaguely. “Smoke, or drink that much, or… do drugs.”

Joel nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “So, you’re a good girl,” he said, his voice low and deliberate.

Something about the words sent a flicker of heat through you, angering you in a way you didn’t fully understand. He wasn’t wrong. You were a good girl, objectively. You followed the rules, you did what was expected of you. But the way he said it—like it was some neatly wrapped box he was placing you in—made you want to tear it apart, to prove him wrong.

Before you could think better of it, your hand darted forward, taking the cigarette from his fingers. You brought it to your lips, ignoring the way his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise.

You’d never smoked before. You didn’t even know how.

“There she is,” Joel murmured, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite name. Amusement? Pride?

You inhaled—a shallow, unsteady puff—and immediately started coughing, your lungs burning as the bitter taste filled your mouth. It was disgusting. How did people do this?

Joel laughed, his deep, rumbling chuckle filling the space around you. He reached out, taking the cigarette back from your hand, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “You’re doin’ it all wrong,” he said, shaking his head.

He turned then, leaning his back against the glass fence so he was facing you now. The moonlight cast soft shadows on his face, illuminating the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He brought the cigarette to his mouth, taking a slow drag before holding it out to you again.

This time, he held it himself, the cigarette poised just near your lips.

“Open,” he said softly, his voice low and coaxing.

You hesitated, your gaze darting between his eyes and the cigarette.

“Trust me,” Joel murmured, his tone steady, almost reassuring.

You parted your lips slightly, and he brought the cigarette closer, his gaze fixed intently on you.

“Don’t suck too hard,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just take it in, real slow. Let it fill your mouth—don’t pull it into your lungs yet.”

You did as he said, the smoke sitting in your mouth, bitter and unfamiliar.

“Now,” Joel said, his eyes locked on yours, “open your lips, and breathe in—just enough to pull it in.”

You followed his instructions, the smoke slipping into your lungs, and this time, you didn’t cough as hard. It still burned, still tasted terrible, but the way Joel watched you—his dark eyes steady, his fingers grazing your lips as he held the cigarette for you—made it impossible to care.

“There ya go,” he said casually, as if any part of this was remotely normal. Like teaching your babysitter to smoke on the patio while his wife was upstairs was just another thing he did on a quiet night at home.

Your stomach churned as the reality of it settled over you. You could practically picture Mrs. Miller lying in their bedroom, her nightgown elegant but undoubtedly sexy, waiting for Joel to come to bed. The thought twisted something inside you, sharp and uncomfortable.

“So,” Joel said, turning to face the pool again, leaning his elbows on the glass fence as he took another drag. His broad shoulders caught the moonlight, his profile sharp and impossibly handsome. “What’s the verdict?”

You stood still for a moment, the cigarette’s taste lingering bitterly in your mouth. “Still tastes like shit,” you murmured before you could stop yourself.

The word hung in the air, and your stomach dropped. Shit. You’d just sworn in front of your employer. What were you thinking?

But Joel didn’t seem to care. He chuckled, the sound low and rich, curling in the air like the smoke he exhaled. Even his laugh had that same effortless charm, like he owned the moment and everything in it.

“Honest,” he said, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “I like that.”

Your cheeks burned under his gaze, and you shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. The tension between you hummed quietly, the line between right and wrong blurring as Joel took another drag, his movements slow and deliberate.

You glanced down at your watch, the small hands ticking closer to midnight. It was late—too late. You had class in the morning, and the thought of dragging yourself out of bed at sunrise felt impossible.

“I should really get going,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the quiet night air.

Joel straightened at your words, as though he’d momentarily forgotten that you weren’t here entirely by choice. His gaze flicked to you, something unspoken flashing in his eyes before he nodded.

“Right,” he said, his voice low.

He took another slow drag from the cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the dark, before he dropped it onto the smooth patio floor. With a deliberate motion, he pressed it out under the sole of his expensive shoes. The sight of it—a crushed, smoldering stub against the pristine tiles—felt jarring, out of place.

Your fingers twitched with the urge to pick it up, to toss it into the trash where it belonged. The mess, the casual carelessness of it, gnawed at you in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“Sorry about the swans,” Joel said, his tone almost light, but the faint smirk on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Those bastards are hiding from us.”

You managed a small smile, more out of politeness than anything else, as he turned toward the door. His broad frame seemed to block out the light spilling from the house as you followed him back inside, the air between you thick with the unspoken weight of the evening.

Your footsteps echoed softly on the hardwood floors as you made your way to the entryway. The house felt too quiet now, too big, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something irreversible had shifted in the space between you and Joel.

He held the door open for you again, the faint scent of smoke and cologne still clinging to him, and for a brief moment, you hesitated—caught between leaving and the strange pull that kept you rooted to the spot.

“Drive safe,” Joel said, his voice softer now, his gaze lingering on you just a little too long.

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice almost a whisper.

And as you stepped out into the cool night air, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you felt heavier than it should have—like a quiet ending to something you weren’t entirely sure how to name.

[itsclydebitches]

I’ve got Murderbot on the brain right now, so everyone do me a solid and let me ramble about my favorite scene: Murderbot deleting the hooper manual.

We start with a clip from Sanctuary Moon, wherein the Captain and Navigation Bot are stranded on some distant planet, unable to contact the rest of their crew. The show uses clips from Murderbot’s serials to draw (very obvious) parallels between that fiction and its current, lived experience: the Navigation Bot is clearly a stand-in for Murderbot, the Captain is Mensah (leader of their expedition; called “Captain” by Murderbot in its delirium), both pairs are currently stranded, and both are unable to contact help. As said, these connections are meant to be on the heavy-handed side and the in-world explanation for that is that they’re always coming from Murderbot’s perspective. It’s thinking about this scene because it’s relevant to its current situation: “Fuck, that hits close to the bone."

The one key difference between these two scenes is the existence of a blossoming romance, which Murderbot draws attention to. As an asexual character, it points out that this is a thoroughly unrealistic aspect of the show; the true fiction of a fictional world. Like the Navigation Bot, Murderbot lacks gentiles and would presumably lack dopamine from any romantic and/or sexual encounter—notably due to its orientation, rather than any implication that it’s not enough of a person to experience such emotions—so the fact that Navigation Bot ~somehow~ overcomes these obstacles to fall for the Captain anyway is framed as a product of soap opera nonsense. ‘Take note, viewer’ the moment says. ‘There may be parallels, but don’t expect Murderbot’s story to follow all the tired tropes.’ It then re-emphasizes this message by admitting that it watches serials to escape reality, not to get an accurate depiction of it.

What is relevant though is the dialogue between the Captain and Navigation Bot, specifically him asking her to sit and insisting that “everyone needs a little warmth.” Unlike the heteronormative expectation in most shows that everyone needs a romantic relationship to find fulfillment in life, Murderbot is making the far broader and more appropriate argument that everyone needs positive interactions: care, kindness, companionship. “Everyone” here references people, not just humans, so as Navigation Bot learns about friendship outside of her romantic interest—let’s sit by the fire together and learn what a joke is—Murderbot too is learning how to interact with its clients. Twice now it too has been asked to sit, though only the second instance reflects the lesson shown in Sanctuary Moon. Whereas Gurathin orders Murderbot to sit as part of his interrogation (Murderbot’s word, not mine), Mensah asks it to sit in an attempt to get to know it. It goes horribly, of course, because Murderbot is an infant at socializing and isn’t ready for a trauma dump about leaving your kids, but it’s learning how to interact with humans from shows like Sanctuary Moon and it's Mensah who, unknowingly, recreates a scene that Murderbot is turning to for both guidance and comfort.

All this frames Mensah as that comforting mentor at the start of the episode; a would-be friend who is capable and willing to teach Murderbot about non-romantic relationships. Positioning her in this way isn't new, of course. Mensah has done the most to reach out to Murderbot emotionally (well, Ratthi has too, though his attempts are too heavy-handed to land). She’s the first to ever protect it, reversing the expectation that SecUnits will die for humans and never vice-versa. This is a demonstration of care that also lends veracity to her promise of keeping Murderbot's secret: maybe she would risk her own skin to keep it safe. And, as said, Mensah is the one who is unwittingly playing out scenes from its favorite show. Mensah has the strongest relationship with Murderbot at this point in the story and it shows in their dialogue here. In a very short amount of time they’ve grown tremendously in how they approach one another. Whereas Mensah would have originally panicked at Murderbot sustaining a wound that would have killed a human, now she just casually mentions that it has something sticking out of its abdomen.  Whereas Murderbot would have originally avoided providing an opinion so as not to scare the stupid human into reckless action, now it agrees immediately that yes, whoever attacked them is likely going after the others. They’ve already reached the point where Mensah can comment on its tone—“How can you say it like that?”—and Murderbot is acknowledging, if only to itself, that it’s “freaked out” at the prospects of the others being murdered. I mean, we knew that. Murderbot has already killed itself in an attempt to keep them safe, so the fact that it cares isn’t exactly a revelation, but the existence of that emotion and Murderbot acknowledging it are two very different things.

And then. Then.

“You have copies of the repair manuals in your memory, yes?” “…………………………no.”

It’s so hesitant to admit what’s happened. But why? After all, Murderbot isn’t ashamed of its love of Sanctuary Moon; it defends the show as “premium quality" just moments after this. It also has no reason to fear Mensah’s reaction to not following some standard protocol—we’re far past Murderbot covering up its rogue status. But whereas before it was having a conversation with her, now it gives as little information as possible: “No." and “I did.” You can see in its body language how reluctant it is to explain the situation. Most tellingly, it’s horrified when Mensah accuses it of sabotaging them. That's some of the most emotion we've heard in its voice to date. It doesn’t want to explain, but it wants Mensah to think that of it even less.

Because the issue here is that Murderbot now values her opinion. It hasn’t admitted it in so many words, but their relationship is growing, the bond is tenuous, the bond means something to it… and it’s about to seriously test that bond by admitting that it's done something MONUMENTALLY stupid. Murderbot has to explain to someone it is coming to genuinely care for that a group of her loved ones might die horrible, bloody deaths because it prioritized a TV show over the repair of the ship. That's fucking terrifying for anyone to admit to, let alone someone who has every reason to expect rejection at best, abuse at worse! I love Murderbot’s reluctance here because it makes perfect, terrible sense. I love that it tries to justify its choice by claiming its manual was “redundant.” It knows it fucked up and is trying every trick in the book to minimize the consequences.

Except the consequences aren't as dire as Murderbot expects. Mensah is mad, yes, but she's also the first person Murderbot has met who cares about it, not just its actions. If the Captain and Navigation Bot are in a romantic relationship, Mensah and Murderbot are more akin to a parent and child here. Murderbot has never had to face the disappointment of someone it cares about because no one has cared for it before, but Mensah? She’s a mother of seven. She has more than two partners back home and is constantly corralling her gaggle of scientists. There’s no one better to handle the delicate situation that is Murderbot’s first relationship fuck-up because she’s no doubt already seen every stupid decision under the sun… and Mensah is someone who still loves fiercely despite those mistakes.  

Ultimately the scene is played for laughs (and succeeds marvelously in my opinion). You can hear the music drop when Murderbot’s line segues from desperately dramatic “I had to…!” to the joke of “…to make room for the 19th season of Sanctuary Moon.” Halfway through the scene ceases to take the moment seriously, but that’s expected in a comedy show. The emotions were still real and relevant while they were allowed to flourish and, for me, that makes the resolution just as significant. Mensah doesn’t verbally abuse Murderbot for its mistake, or say anything that could imply that her human friends' lives are more important than its. She doesn’t know it, but Murderbot is already calling itself “stupid” and “useless” on the regular—it doesn’t need to hear that from its new, first friend. Mensah is clearly frustrated (and with good reason), but her reaction is not so volatile that Murderbot looses its growing sense of independence out of fear. By the end of the conversation it's still willing to “Agree to disagree.” Mensah simply lays down the reality—TV is "not worth losing everyone’s lives for”—and Murderbot agrees. It made a mistake, a mistake born of its developing sense of self, a mistake that might kill these humans it maybe doesn’t want to lose just yet… but Mensah doesn’t reject it for that mistake. Her last parting shot is, essentially, for Murderbot to take care of itself. “Do something about that.” AKA, don’t just let a piece of the printer hang out in your abdomen, you know I want you getting medical attention whenever you need it. That too harkens back to the very start of their relationship when Murderbot was bitten and Mensah insisted on it visiting the MedBay despite it still functioning within acceptable parameters, much to its confusion.

There’s a lot going on in this opening scene. A hell of a lot more, I think, than just a ‘Haha Murderbot loves Sanctuary Moon so much’ joke. The scenes from the serial—both chosen by the writers and by Murderbot itself in its memories—help frame the coming conversation and the conversation itself, crucially, demonstrates to Murderbot that its individuality will be accepted—even when that individuality royally fucks things up.  That’s one of the most important lessons that children, or in this case newly freed SecUnits, can learn from those around them. You love my personality when everything is sunshine and roses? Great. Will you still love me when my personality is annoying, or inconvenient, or awkward, or outright causes tremendous problems for us?

Mensah gave Murderbot a resounding ‘Yes.’

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Danny didn't know how he was doing it, but all the acting classes he never took were really paying off!

'Fake 'til you make it and hope you don't get caught' is a great motto to live by and he is prepared to defend this hill with what's left of his living life.

By some miracle, Alfred hadn't kicked him from the haunt, instead giving him all the same permissions Dick, Barbra, and Tim have! He was warned about going to the Bat Cave for any reason, though. Not like Danny had any plans to enter Bruce Wayne's haunt. No thank you.

Speaking of Mister Wayne, Danny was so ready to be away from him. Just knowing they're in the same building was setting him off!

Bruce Wayne, on TV and in the eye of the public, was a man grieving his lost son. He's a playboy and a philanthropist who couldn't tell you left from right, but he's also Gotham's White Knight; her prince. A family man who's lost yet another of his family and doing his best to move past it.

In private, at least as far as Danny could tell, Bruce Wayne is a pessimist and a narcissist. He's a man desperate for a family, but unwilling to let anyone close, pushing everyone away and keeping them no closer than arm's length. He's stuck in the past, unable to move past mourning his parents and now his son. He is much more Batman than Bruce Wayne and it's only a matter of time before the two worlds collide disastrously.

Danny wouldn't know, but he can make a pretty educated guess on the matter.

Throughout the entire dinner, Danny had been observing everyone. He analyzed how they interacted, how they held themselves, how they ate, and how they reacted to his and Mister Wayne's conversation.

His main focus is Dick. Dick will always be his top priority, but Tim had quickly been added to the list. Barbra wasn't nearly as high on his list of people to take care of, but he was going to offer his help should she ever need it.

Especially because she snuck a nervous glance at Miaster Wayne when he mentioned Oracle.

He hadn't intended to stay the night in Gotham, but he wasn't going to turn away the opportunity, especially because Alfred was very insistent that Danny and Dick stay. And Tim and Barbra asking them on patrol? They both had pretty good puppy eyes, but Danny wasn't the one who made the mistake of looking at them.

Regardless, Nightwing being in Gotham for the night presented the Bludhaven Goons the perfect opportunity to commit crimes unpunished for the night. It wouldn't take long for the news to get out. Danny had fully planned on Phantom being there, flying over to work in Bludhaven before returning at his normal time, but Tim and Barbra convincing him to be on comms presented a bit of a hiccup in his plans.

Dick finding out about Phantom was inevitable. In fact, he didn't plan on hiding Phantom, but the times where Dick or Nightwing were awake never matched up when Phantom was out.

Okay, so maybe he was hiding a little bit.

Tim and Barbra finding out, on the other hand, was a bit of a problem.

Phantom was a hero in Amity Park, Illinois for only a little while before disappearing. He wasn't hugely known outside of the town or ghost hunters, not doing anything to warrant attention from the Big Leagues. (Nothing they knew of, anyway) It was unlikely that anyone outside of the niche group even knew his name, let alone what he looked like or how he worked.

Still. Tim figured out Nightwing's and Batman's identities, probably Batgirl's, too. And Batman is notoriously known for his paranoia and for somehow knowing everything and having a way to counteract it.

Mister Wayne is already looking into Danny, likely having already stumbled across the Missing Person report that wouldn't have gone through, ending up at a dead end. He'd easily put Danny and Phantom together as related somehow, if not being the same person.

Tim, similar to Mister Wayne, needs to know everything. The difference is that Tim's need to know is obviously a trauma response. Something that Danny would like to help him with, but that's beside the current point. It'll take maybe five minutes for Tim to find out everything he can about Phantom and Danny, especially now that he knows that Danny used to be a vigilante.

Sure, Danny could try and hide Phantom from them, but being on comms with them for the night would alert them to even the smallest fight. He's not a loud person, much preferring espionage and stealth over physical altercations, no matter how much his track record disagreed.

So, he's now presented with a choice. Introduce them to Phantom despite telling them that he was done being a hero, or leave Bludhaven to the mercy of her underworld for the night.

He was never quite able to leave stuff alone.

Sam had called him a tutelar.

Whatever that means.

Why couldn't these decisions be easier? Can't he ever have a Cinderella option? Why can't he ever just not decide?

Part 14 Part 16

[hard-core-super-star]

if you're weak, come to me [wandanat]

pairing: top!natasha romanoff x bottom!wanda maximoff

summary: wanda gets injured during a mission and natasha is TOTALLY fine with that (not). they seek each other's comfort in the only way they know how.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> porn with so many feelings and a dash of plot; mentions of dom/sub dynamics; natasha has so many feelings and no way of verbalizing them; wanda's brattiness is implied; fingering {wanda receiving}; flirty banter; begging; teasing; so many kisses; non-fatal injuries; mentions of blood; not mentioned but this takes place somewhere between age of ultron and civil war

wordcount: 3.6k

a/n: so...this week has been a LOT, i have many thoughts but they're all scattered and filled with rage so i'll save them for another time. the U.S election results have left me feeling both incredibly hopeless and numb and to counteract the heaviness of the moment, i decided to finish this fic instead of spiraling or doomscrolling. easier said than done but it's fine. thank you so much to the lovely person who commissioned this, i had a great time writing for this paring. i still don't feel super confident about my characterization of natasha but it's getting there 😅 anyway, enough rambling, i'm sending you guys all my love and support, my askbox is always open <3

* * * * * * *

No one said being an Avenger was easy.

Outside of the long hours, and the possibility of the world ending every other day, there were the unmeasurable amounts of guilt and regret and worry that seemed to plague each and every one of them. They could probably keep a whole building of therapists employed with the amount of trauma they carried.

Everyone at the compound was well aware of their personal situations, but no two felt it as strongly as Natasha and Wanda. There was no denying how well they worked together, how easy their chemistry was, the way they knew exactly what to do to stop each other from spiraling when they needed it most.

Unfortunately, there were moments where their worries clashed together and left them feeling worse than usual.

Moments like today.

Wanda had been chosen to go on a mission without Natasha and the widow had managed to threaten just about everyone she could think of until she was able to go with her girlfriend.

It all would have been fine had the witch not been incredibly annoyed by what she felt to be an overreaction. Even that would have been fine if they hadn't ended up going on the mission while they were still upset with each other.

They weren't mad enough to not worry about each other, but they still chose to go separate ways and focus on getting different things done. Something that would have been fine had Wanda not been ambushed by far too many enemy agents at once.

Steve had been the closest one to the witch and had managed to get there before things turned too sour. Unfortunately, that had been enough to make the Widow spiral. She'd heard her girlfriend request backup in that shaky voice that gave away her fear and she'd been unable to do anything about it.

If Steve had taken any longer to get to Wanda...she didn't want to think about what could have happened. She couldn't think about it.

And yet it was the only thing on her mind on the way home.

The mission had been successful, but she still felt like a failure. Like somehow, despite how inaccurate of an assessment it was, it had all been her fault. If she hadn't allowed her ego to get the better of her, she would have been there. She would have been able to help her girlfriend before she got hurt.

The witch wasn't mortally wounded in any way, but that didn't matter to her.

Wanda, for her part, felt fine. Sure, she was sore and in pain and bleeding, but she was an Avenger, getting hurt came with the territory.

It became obvious to her that her girlfriend didn't feel the same way as her when the redhead decided to ignore her on the way home. The Quinjet was small, and yet the distance between them felt massive.

It wasn't like her to sneak into people's minds without permission, but this was different. This was Natasha, and her concern for her outweighed most of her guilt around using her powers around her.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but she did it anyway, and it allowed her to see the pain her girlfriend was carrying on her shoulders. It pained her to know Natasha was blaming herself. That she didn't believe she was worth all the love the younger woman had for her.

There wasn't an easy solution to that kind of guilt, but Wanda would be dammed if she allowed her girlfriend to continue to suffer in silence.

The second they landed back at the Compound, Natasha made her way to the witch's side. There was an unreadable expression on her face as she looked her lover over and she silently extended her hand out for her.

Wanda wasted no time in accepting her help.

They made their way to their shared room, holding onto each other a little tighter than necessary. Neither of them commented on it, though, they needed the physical contact more than they were willing to admit out loud.

The silence between them bordered on awkward, but they didn't even attempt to break it. They needed to have a long conversation and it needed to happen away from prying eyes and ears.

After a tense walk, they managed to make it inside their room, and Natasha instantly set the younger woman down on the bed. "Do you need to change your bandages?"

The mention of the badly wrapped bandages made Wanda chuckle despite herself. She wasn't sure whose idea it was to go on a mission without Dr. Banner who, despite how awkward he could be about it, always did a great job at patching them up when they were hurt. Sure, it wasn't his area of expertise, but he was much better at it than Steve.

"No, I'm okay," she replied, not aware of the effect her words were going to have on her girlfriend.

The Widow let out a loud scoff. "Oh, you're okay? You were stabbed and shot at but you're okay?"

"'Tasha-"

"Don't." Her tone left no room for arguing. "You're hurt, I'm allowed to be pissed off about it."

"I never said you couldn't be upset," Wanda muttered in response. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm fine."

It was a shitty argument, but it was the best she could do given the circumstance. There was no way to win out over Natasha's stubbornness, so the only thing she could do was hope her words would eventually get through to her. That seeing her so sure that everything was fine would bring her out of the spiral she was stuck in.

The only response the Widow gave was a long sigh, her eyes betraying the true weight of her feelings.

Her hand reached out before she could stop it, and Wanda met her halfway, leaning into her touch with a small smile.

Natasha's fingers trailed across the witch's jawline as her eyes took in every little scrape that painted her delicate features. A part of her knew  she was overreacting. That they're safe and sound and Wanda's injuries will heal in no time.

And yet, it was impossible to stop desperation from building within her. The worries that threatened to swallow her whole if she allowed herself to think about things too much.

"'Tasha." Wanda's voice was barely above a whisper as she tried to get through to her lover one more time. "I'm okay."

"You were hurt."

"I've been through worse."

The words were meant to be reassuring, but they had the opposite effect. If anything, they made Natasha feel more helpless. Like despite all her skills, all her knowledge, all her training, she'll never be able to keep her lover safe.

She'll never be enough.

"Stop that, you're more than enough."

Her eyebrow raised involuntarily in response. "Get out of my mind, little witch."

"Hey! It's not my fault your thoughts are so loud."

Despite the heaviness that still lingered within her, a chuckle managed to escape past her lips. In an instant, she leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Wanda's pouting lips.

It amazed her how soft the witch could be after all the pain and violence she grew up in.

More than that, it amazed her how quickly her mood was able to shift when she was with the younger woman. How easy it was for her fears to disappear when they were together.

A soft smile was written across her features when she pulled away from her lover, her eyes a mirror that reflected the affection that was clear in the witch's eyes.

"Let me fix you up, detka." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but there was no denying the weight behind her words. "I promise I'll be quick."

Wanda couldn't help but shift nervously in response. It wasn't like she didn't trust Natasha, of course she trusted the redhead, but she knew how she could get. How easy it was for her to get caught up seeing monsters instead of shadows.

"I...are you sure? My bandages should be okay for a few hours."

"Not with the way Steve wrapped them," Natasha replied with a hint of humor in her tone.

The humor wasn't enough to mask her worry, and yet Wanda felt herself relaxing a little. If it helped her girlfriend feel better, she had no complaints about allowing her to clean her wounds up a little.

"Okay."

It was a single word that conveyed the trust she held in the redhead.

Wanda shifted back on the bed until she was laying down with her head resting on their pillows. She'd been in this position many times before, but this was different. There was an edge of vulnerability that clung to the air between them, a need for reassurance that neither of them could verbalize.

Natasha moved closer, not quite settling between the witch's legs, simply coming close enough to reach for her shirt. Her hands shook slightly as she lifted her girlfriend's shirt, her eyes taking in every inch of smooth skin that was revealed to her. Her heart ached in her chest as she examined each and every one of the cuts and bruises that littered her torso.

"I promise I'm okay," Wanda whispered, noticing her girlfriend's hesitation.

"I believe you."

Still, her head ducked down until her lips met the skin that had been revealed to her.

The gasp that escaped past the younger woman's lips made her smile. She still didn't feel completely okay but the helplessness that had settled in her chest was slowly easing away.

Her lips traced every inch of battered skin they could reach, her hands pushing the fabric up and over Wanda's head. With her shirt out of the way, she was able to fully look over the  bandages wrapped around her girlfriend's injuries. They didn't look as bad as she had expected them to and she subconciously let out a sigh of relief.

It didn't matter how many times she was reassured that the younger woman was fine, she needed to see it with her own eyes. To realize she wasn't bleeding out, there was no bullet lodged inside her, no sharp knife sticking out of her. She was fine.

She was safe.

And she was already arching her back in the way that made the Widow lose all of her control.

It wasn't about the pleasure, though. They both knew that. It was about comfort.

About being there for each other in the only way that was able cut through their anxieties. Maybe it was wrong to have to rely on the physical to get rid of the mental strain they were always under, but it made sense to them. More than that, it worked.

Because as much as they trusted and loved each other, being vulnerable wasn't something that came easy to them. Especially not after a mission when their fight or flight insticts were still on.

"I'm here," Natasha mumbled, shifting until she was hovering over her girlfriend. "I'm right here, Wands."

The words brought a beautiful smile to the witch's face. "I know...but you're still too far."

Wanda managed to work up enough courage to wrap her arms around Natasha's neck. She tried to keep her grip loose, just in case the Widow wasn't ready for too much physical contact.

"Patience," she replied. "I'm in the middle of something here. I still haven't cleaned you up."

The witch couldn't help but roll her eyes at that. The last thing on her mind right was her injuries. She felt fine. More than that, she felt weirdly needy and she needed her girlfriend's lips in a completely different spot.

She knew complaining probably wouldn't get her very far, but she couldn't help it. Maybe some light playfulness would help Natasha feel better.

"Come on, 'Tasha, that can wait. I need you right now."

The redhead paused for a second, green eyes focused intently on Wanda's face. She thought things over for a second, silently analyzing the situation in front of her. Her girlfriend seemed fine. All that seemed to linger were her wounds but not the pain they had initially brought.

It was irresponsible, she knew that much, but how was she supposed to deny her beautiful lover?

"How are you always so needy?" She replied, her soft smile growing just a tad bit teasing. "Don't tell me I've spoiled you too much."

"Maybe you have." Wanda shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I beg to differ."

Natasha leaned down to capture the witch's lips again. This time, there was a little less softness to the contact and a little more urgency. And a lot of unrestrained desperation neither of them knew what to do with.

One kiss turned into two which turned into Wanda digging her nails into Natasha's shoulders while her hips bucked involuntarily. The Widow's thigh was too far to provide the witch with any real friction and yet it only made everything feel ten times more intense. An intensity that always seemed to catch up to them when they were together in such a way.

"Nat..." Wanda groaned, head tilting back in both pleasure and desperation.

"I know." Despite the teasing edge to her response, there was nothing but affection in her tone. Nothing but devotion for her lover. "What did I say about patience?"

One of Natasha's hands made its way between their bodies, her fingers tracing a path she knew by memory. The witch didn't seem to be in the mood for much teasing but she couldn't help it. There was something so exciting about turning her girlfriend into a desperate mess.

She knew, on some level, where it came from. That Wanda needed to be taken care of just as badly as she needed to be in control. They were on opposite ends of the same spectrum.

The witch arched her back in an attempt to push her chest further into Natasha's hand, a quiet moan leaving her lips as she teased her hardned nipples. "Stop teasing."

"I've barely started, detka. Don't tell me you already can't handle it?"

"You're so mean."

"You like it."

Wanda didn't have any time to refute that claim because right when she opened her mouth to speak, the redhead decided to finally give in to what her body needed.

"I oh-" The witch's body shuddered as Natasha's hand moved down, slidding into her tight pants and cupping her wet heat. The fabric of her underwear was still in the way, but neither of them cared too much about the obstruction.

Matching moans left their lips as the Widow found the wet spot staining the younger woman's underwear, her fingers moving over the soaked fabric with renowed purpose.

"What was that?" Natasha teased. "Were you going to say something?"

Her girlfriend's tone had Wanda clenching around pure air, her hips bucking involuntarily in search of more friction. "N-no."

"Are you sure? I can stop if you need me to."

"Fuck no. Don't stop...please."

"Good girl."

The praise sent shivers down Wanda's spine and effectively turned all her thoughts to pure mush. It should have been embarrassing how quickly she fell apart for her lover and yet all she could feel was pleasure. And maybe a little pride at how fast she managed to make Natasha give in to what she wanted.

That sort of pride was mutual, though, and it caused desire to thrum in their veins. Desire for what? That wasn't as easy to figure out. Thankfully, they had nothing but time to try.

Natasha quickly grew tired of teasing her girlfriend. Not because she didn't want to keep doing it (she really really did), but because she could tell she needed more. And after the day they'd had, she wasn't sure she'd be able to deny the witch anything.

Her fingers slid inside Wanda's ruined underwear, relishing the loud gasp that escaped the younger woman when she brushed against her clit. The witch was always sensitive, and today was no exception. It made these kinds of moments all the more exciting for her.

"Oh, fuck." Wanda's voice came out more like a whine than anything else. "Please."

"Please what?" She responded, leaning down to trail kisses down the witch's jawline. "Use your words like a good girl."

The only response she could form for a few seconds was another whine. Natasha always knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say, to help her sink down into that fuzzy, submissive headspace she was slowly getting used to. They hadn't done much exploring, too busy with never-ending missions to safely allow the witch to slip, but the safe experimentation they'd done had taught them both more than enough.

Mainly, it taught them how much they both thrive in that type of scenario. How much they depend on each other, on and off the battlefield.

"Don't stop," Wanda begged, feeling her hesitation fade away with every second that went by. "Touch me, fuck me, anything, please."

If Natasha was in a crueler mood, she would have taken her time to tease the younger woman. To play with her until she was a writhing, whimpering mess beneath her.

As fun as that sounded, she wasn't in the mood for that today. She wanted to let go. To help Wanda let go until all that was left was the two of them, locked together, in the sanctuary of their room.

"That's my girl." Her words were accompanied by the movement of her fingers. They slid through Wanda's slick folds before slowly easing in to her cunt. "Fuck, you're soaked for me, detka."

The witch was more than wet enough to take Natasha's fingers but the Widow still took her time, working two fingers inside and diligently watching her lover's face contort with pleasure. The way her walls fluttered around her was intoxicating, drawing the digits in deeper and practically begging her to stay buried inside her.

She moved slowly. Not because she wanted to tease but because she wanted to draw out the sensations. To overwhelm Wanda with the devotion she couldn't properly express most days.

To be fair, it didn't seem like the younger woman minded. They were both broken, albeit in different ways, and they seemed to understand eachother without words. It was the most comforting thing either of them had ever known.

But God, she was so afraid of losing this. Of losing the one good thing she had. The one person who didn't see her as the Black Widow or a S.H.I.E.L.D. product. To Wanda, she was simply 'Tasha and it meant far more to her than anything else.

It wasn't hard for Wanda to realize the change in her girlfriend's thoughts. The sudden change in her breathing, the glosiness that overtook her eyes. She knew exactly what it meant and she knew she had to do something before the redhead started drowning in her thoughts.

So, she did the only thing she could think of right now. Mainly because thinking was getting difficult and it wasn't like she could move around too much with the Widow's fingers buried in her pussy.

Her hands moved to Natasha's face, cuping her cheeks and bringing her closer until their lips met once again. The kiss was a stark contrast to the movements of the redhead's fingers, but neither of them seemed to care.

All they cared about was being together.

Wanda pulled away first, her panting breaths turning into whimpering gasps. The coil in her stomach was about ready to snap, her hips bucking desperately into the readhead's hand. "Nat- I can't, I need-"

"What do you need, detka?" She asked, even though she already knew the answer. She couldn't help it, she loved the way the witch's eyebrows furrowed in frustration when she interrupted her just to tease her.

"Need to cum, please-" Her words turned into a moan when Natasha's thumb found her swollen clit. "Please, can I cum?"

The desperation in her girlfriend's voice made the redhead smile proudly. It was hard to think about her fears when she had the witch like this. Completely and utterly under her spell.

"Of course," she replied, speeding up the thrusts of her fingers in an attempt to bring Wanda even closer to falling apart. "Come on, be a good girl and cum for me."

The witch felt overwhelmed in the best way. All she could think about, all she could feel, was Natasha. Her words, her hands, the pleasure only she was able to bring her. It was all too much yet it felt so good.

Her walls clenched around the Widow's fingers as she lost control of herself, giving in to the pleasure and letting everything else fade away. All it took was a few sharp thrusts of Natasha's fingers before she was moaning her lover's name, her eyes squeezing shut while she rode the waves of pleasure that crashed into her.

The redhead worked her through her orgasm, making sure to slow down a little to avoid overstimulating the younger woman. She leaned down to pepper kisses across each and every inch of Wanda's neck to help ground her a little more.

Neither of them were sure how much time went by before Wanda was able to open her eyes again, but when she finally did, the large, slightly goofy, smile on her face instantly gave away how she was feeling.

Still, Natasha asked anyway.

"You okay?"

"Hmmm, yeah."

The Widow chuckled, her heart practically bursting out of her chest at the sight of Wanda so happy and relaxed. It was a sight that never failed to make her feel better, no matter how shitty her day had been before.

"Good." She placed a few extra kisses across Wanda's face before shifting further down her body. "Because we're not done yet."

Natasha was talking about the remaining injuries she hadn't taken a look at yet but if they got up to other things too...well, she wouldn't complain about that.

[lenishhiew]

my snz OCs

hey yall so i am going to be sharing some snzfics about my OCs junie and nava soon ish, so i would like to introduce you to them! unfortunately i was blessed with exactly 0 artistic talent so all i have is picrews. but that's okay hashtag self acceptance.

OCs under the cut!

this is junie penrose! she's a 23yo witch living in buttfuck nowhere, witchland. she takes pleasure in gardening, music, cooking, painting, stargazing, and sneezing girls. she loves a good cup of tea and a slice of cake. hell yeah sister. she can be kind of irritable and tends to assume the worst of people, often taking offence at small things.

witch power wise she's a healer. she doesn't use magic to harm offensively, and cannot use magic to kill even in self-defence. her healing skills allow her to easily bring down fevers + heal wounds and bruises, but she is unable to reduce any symptoms of illness (how convenient...). she is only able to perform healing rituals and spells if the treatment is consented to, unless in life-or-death situations.

her backstory is a teensy bit tragic. witch tradition requires parents to abandon their children at the age of 12 in order to teach them self-sufficiency, and generally permits no contact after this point. junie has not been in contact with her family since she was abandoned, and this has left her with some pretty deep trust issues. she dislikes outsiders since she is wary of letting new people in (abandonment issues hello) and will go out of her way not to interact with anybody.

snz stuff: she has the kink, but sort of has it buried away. like she doesn't call it a kink but girls sneezing makes her Severely Horny for a reason she can't really explain. she has no allergies and is not particularly prone to illness, but she does have the photic sneezing reflex.

she also has a little cat called pipi. she is so cute. isnt she so cute. #pipifanpage

this is nava dillan! she's 23 and comes from boston, MA, so… how did she end up in buttfuck nowhere witchland? ig you'll find out :P

she finds enjoyment in jogging, writing poetry, singing, knitting, and retail therapy (same 🥲). she studied liberal arts at h/arvard and won't let anyone forget it. she loves makeup and skincare, and wants to travel the world. she has a good sense of humour and is quite fast to figure things out. she can be quite oversensitive and clingy, especially when she's sick- which happens fairly often.

her backstory also is a little sad oops! she grew up in a rather unstable household and rarely received attention or care from her parents. she often was yelled at for small things, and is quite anxious and determined to be perfect because of this. she is deeply afraid of being forgotten.

snz stuff!! Girl Who Is Allergic To Everything On The Planet. pollen, tons of flowers, cats, dust mites, fragrance, and randomly shellfish. unrelated i just thought you should know. she also gets sick easily. she doesn't have the kink but isn't weirded out by the thought of it, and is perfectly happy to indulge an unspecified person who may or may not have the kink. girlies a people pleaser what can i say

anyway that's my girls. they're my favs i love them soooo deeply and yes they are in lesbians what about it!

feel free to ask any questions about them :) thank you for reading!! i hope to share more of them with you soon!

[dark-kingdom-stan-account]

Just like any self-respecting Utena fan, I've latched onto a (semi) minor detail that I just can't find a satisfactory explanation for!

(MASSIVE RGU (series and movie) spoilers ahead!)

As someone who has engaged with RGU supplementary material plenty, it often goes out of its way to point out how Miki's eyes are "like crystals" and similar things. You can see it in the game and in the light novels.

The fan translation is accurate in this case.

So after staring at movie screenshots one too many times, I noticed that his eyes aren't blue there... they're green! And he's the only character whose eyes changed like this.

What does this mean? My first thought was to connect it with the characters who most prominently have green eyes in the series - Anthy, Akio and Dios. The characters who have the most power despite also being the most trapped in the system, with Anthy in particular having the power in the movie and being the only one of the three who is alive - if some theories are to be believed, she was the one who created the world the movie takes place in in the first place. However, she's also the person most trapped in it too.

However, their eyes are definitely not the same shade. More on that later.

An interesting part occurs in the movie during the Touga and Shiori scene - we cut to Miki and Kozue in the bath. It seems Miki has grown since the anime - he accepts that there's no going back to their childhood, and tells Kozue she's still precious to him. In response, Kozue threatens him with a razor and calls him a traitor.

And yet, the next time we see them, Kozue has become a car, and he smiles after she passes by, not sparing her a single glance. What happened? Did she become a sacrifice? She isn't seen individually afterwards unlike Shiori or Wakaba, she becomes just another car in the locust crowd. Perhaps more unsettling is the reason he gives to Juri for being a duelist - "I always wish to obtain more power". Juri responds to him by calling it manly.

That fucking smirk haunts me. Anyway.

Pursuit of power - doesn't this ring a bell? Perhaps like a certain student council president? Of course, in the movie, Touga is dead, so perhaps someone else took his place in the narrative... Miki. The unsettling implications of what happened to Kozue seem to add to this. Not quite as sinister as Touga's relationship with Nanami, and there's no reason to see it as similarly complex, but also I don't see what else it could be.

So even though Miki appears to be pursuing power at the cost of even his sister, potentially, he's unable to get there. His eyes are not the same shade as Anthy or Akio, not even close - they're much brighter. He appears to have shed some of his innocence - no longer wishing to go back to that garden - but he traded it to pursue more power. No wonder he isn't ready to leave Ohtori yet.

An English-speaking person may also be tempted to connect this to the common expression of "green-eyed envy", and yet I'm profoundly unsure if this is the case. He's never shown to be envious of the power possessed by anyone (unlike Touga, he can't look up to Akio, who is also very dead), even if he and Juri see the ghost of Dios inspecting the cars.

However, no matter how much he desires power, in the end, he's one of the people helping Utena and Anthy escape. He tells them how to go to the outside world. He promises the student council will join them eventually. Arguably the most good-natured interaction Anthy has with any of them.

His eyes appear to be showing how much he's changed since we saw him in the anime, and in some ways, perhaps not for the best. However, he's not fully trapped in the hell of Ohtori Academy yet - there is hope for him, even if he's strayed into such a dangerous path.

In the end, I think all of them deserve their revolution, even if the road getting there is bumpy.

...Or maybe they thought it would fit him more to have green eyes idk lol-

[ossidae-passeridae]

I'd be fascinated to hear more about gnosticism in tlt if you ever feel like writing about it.

I honestly don't know what's already been written r.e. gnosticism and TLT, so might be reinventing the wheel here, but I'll do a brief description of the overarching themes present throughout the books?

The uh, first layer of the gnosticism onion, as it were.

So to start this off I'm going to give a broad and at least partially incorrect overview of gnosticism:

Gnosticism is a tenth century mess that's loosely based off of Christianity, but then gets Weird. Thanks to some fun political situations in the Gulf, the Christians in the South were isolated from other Christians for decades thus spun off wildly from "mainstream" Christianity. We mostly have fragments left, and a lot of them contradict each other, so working out exactly what they believed/meant is Very Fun and also Somewhat Impossible. (Like the fragments of documents left in Canaan House, you could say...)

That being said, parts of their beliefs we do know better than others. They have the bible, of course, but on top of that they also have this pre-Bible creation myth regarding how God came to be in the first place.

It goes something like: In The Beginning there was a sort of primordial god-soup. This god-soup occasionally emits binary pairs of entities, also known as aeons and (later) twin flames. These binary pairs are two souls made for one another and with one another, and together they are balanced, and perfect, and full of Holy Light(tm). Each binary pair had one grammatically-masculine name, and one grammatically-feminine name. These names do not necessarily relate to perceived gender, and in fact the binary pairs are often referred to as if they are Beyond Gender Altogether. (*stares pointedly at the Lyctors*, *stares even more pointedly at Gideon's name*) [I could probably write a whole thing on this alone, honestly, they're sometimes referred to as like, the fingers on God's hand which, yeah.]

Anyway, in this pure and godly space, there is no matter, only Holy Light. But one of the entities, known as Sophia, goes off on her own and interacts with the shadowy chaos that exists outside of the godly soup. She's half of a whole, unbalanced. And through her meddling she (unintentionally) creates another half that's not pure and holy and full of godly light, but instead a dark reflection of what he Should Be. This is generally referred to as the Demiurge.

Unlike all these other beings, the Demiurge is made of matter. He is the first thing of matter to exist and he looks around the void that he's birthed into, bare aside from him, and concludes that he and he alone is God. (Hi Jod)

Then he makes earth, and heaven, and a bunch of other things besides, the things we know as the universe today. In the immortal words of Douglass Adams — this has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

The problem is — all of these things that the Demiurge has created are made of matter. And being made of matter, they're cut off from the light of Godness (which is incorporeal and made of Pure Energy), thus inherently flawed. What's more, they're never meant to have existed in the first place. The Demiurge is tormented by his failure, but unable to create anything that is not inherently Wrong. (oh look it's the Nine Houses, I'd bet money that there's a link between being cut off from Godly Light and the Nine Houses being the only stable thanergenic planets here)

Sophia, who has watched these unintended consequences unfold and the suffering they've caused, cannot undo what's been done, but she can descend into the material world to share the light of wisdom and try to alleviate what suffering she can. So she does.

The story culminates with Christ being born and teaching all of humanity Gnosis — a special, mystical knowledge that can only come from the Divine, we are not really given specifics here — before he's sacrificed in order to make humanity's ascent beyond their material prison possible.

So that's the broad strokes of gnosticism as a religion, and also first layer of the TLT gnosticism onion. Just the really broad spectrum thematic *waves hands around* Stuff. I've refrained from speculating on the end because until Alecto comes out we really don't know.

If you want anything more specific anon, let me know?? I've been in the gnosticism soup for so long I can't always tell what's common knowledge and what isn't.

[cartoonishreal]

So we know Luis’s body is unusable, but would he bother to keep it alive? Transfer in twice a day to feed and water it, if not for interacting with things at least so he can still experience sensations?

This could very easily slide into AM territory, being so envious of the humans, and even other cursed it turns to hate, because at least they know they’re still alive, however horribly that form of life may be

Louis actually can't interact with his body at all, totally separated and unable to reunite. It survives like a separate organism, living on his computer's battery. And since that's always plugged in, it can't die.

Even if his body does die, his consciousness relies on having something to tether to, that being any tech he can get into, so he himself is not at risk. He doesn't care to go back anyway, since it's easier to live in something inorganic

He can't interact with the world outside at all actually, besides talking. Lives his life almost like a desktop buddy. He's not particularly jealous of the human-bodied (or the like), since survival is a lot harder with a body that has to deal with hunger and fatigue and disease and the lot

(He tends to house in Sam's computer and TV, just because he knows the party is lucid and are decent company. He spies on Sam's browser history for fun and tries to intervene if a site is sketchy, since he's scared he might be affected by viruses in some way. He's not really sure)

Buuuttt he IS at risk of going haywire if he stays in one device for too long, so he flips between a rotation in a concentrated area (Sam's computer and TV, sometimes the TVs down the hall). If he doesn't move, he risks his essence seeping into the hardware and creating a new body to house his consciousness.

(He found out by making the mistake of resting in his TV for a few days and woke up to find the thing breaking apart and trying to form limbs with its various cables. Absolutely mortifying)

[rainbowsylvie]

There are probably Pokémon adapted to environments so hyperspecific that even if people did find them they’d never be able to actually have them due to not being able to survive outside it, just like some life in the real world

It would be nice to see them in spin-off games though, like a new game that’s something like Pokémon snap and legends arceus where you’re sent to document Pokémon such as these, maybe you’re given a Pokémon that can withstand such environment but don’t necessarily need them to surviveoh fuck tardigrade Pokémon this is how they can introduce tardigrade Pokémon this is how tardigrade Pokémon can STILL WIN!

Anyway. Areas like this can include obvious places like the deep sea or high up in the mountains where oxygen is thin, as well as places with high radiation or high up in the atmosphere where rayquaza lives(could be a late or endgame area because of that), hot springs and places on the extreme ends of the ph scale may be difficult to document but they may be worth it

Pokémon could include pallas cats(could be a variant or a new Pokémon), blobfish(do NOT remove them you know damn well what happens), yeti crabs(perhaps a deep sea crabominable variant), that snail with the iron shell, brittle stars and perhaps some Pokémon based on lesser known eukaryotes, such as halophilic fungi, and even Pokémon that live in places real life creatures have no chance in. This is a fantasy world, do whatever.

Now the creatures that live in these areas are usually, well, Fucking Tiny, but if a tick can be 4 inches, I think they can make microscopic creatures be inch big Pokémon. This can also be where the camera comes in, it will have a big zoom function so you can get up really close to the little guys without having to act get near them. The aforementioned tardigrade Pokémon could help you interact with the environment if you’re unable to for whatever reason, such as a hot spring or a place too radioactive for most life or you’re in a small submersible in the ocean or That Is Actual Fucking Lava. You could also be supplied with a ditto to help you with further documentation, since while you can’t use the actual Pokémon, a ditto can help fill in the gaps pretty well if they’re just as able to withstand the environment as well as the Pokémon they’re copying.

The game won’t be focused in one specific region, but various areas around the world, both preexisting and new regions. I have a thought for a tiny, undiscovered Pokémon near the hot springs in hoenn, or something that only lives within stark mountain in the battle zone near sinnoh, perhaps even a Pokémon that somehow migrated there from firespit island from the hisui days, and you can’t tell me paldea’s area zero Doesn’t have some hyperadapted Pokémon in there, maybe in the water at the bottom, though I don’t think you’d be allowed there for a While(lategame area probably). Pokémon world Antarctica, Iceland, and Yellowstone are not safe from documentation. When exploring regions, only small parts will be available to you, such as the locations previously mentioned.

Now a lot of people probably wouldn’t like a game with almost entirely new Pokémon look at black and white’s initial reception and variants, almost none of which that you can even use not counting ditto copies, but since this would be a spinoff mostly used to help with world building, I’d say those people can Suck It Up and let us have our fun, pokemon doesn’t have to cater to you specifically all the time, you may like the battles, but some of us enjoy worldbuilding and speculative biology.

I don’t have any concept art at the moment as I started writing this down shortly before dinner, but I’ll reblog this post with some once I have enough.

[ramblingautisticman]

Something I've been thinking about I should probably go around and ask some people.

If you were in the Marvel universe and had a mutation. What would it be?

I mean, technically I'm pretty sure I have a mutation anyway because I'm ginger, though that really isn't that cool of a mutation in the Marvel universe when you have people with laser eyes and claws in their hands.

In the Marvel universe though, as much as I'd love to have something epic like fire powers or telekinesis, I honestly believe I'd have something that is kind of random but helpful in ways others wouldn't think off.

Something akin to being able to make everything silent in a certain area?

Now, your probably thinking "that's so random, why?", well my dear friend(s), because how amazing would that be for an autistic person who can't handle outside world noises??

I mean, sure, I could use it to confuse enemies, make them unable to communicate their next moves, help the X-Men sneak into battle, but I could also help people when they are having a panic attack, make sure little kids or animals don't get scared at loud noises, and make sure I don't get overstimulated in public places.

I would 100% make everyone learn sign language or finger spelling so everyone can communicate in the bubble, and also because it's a really handy skill anyway? And there has to be at least one deaf person at the school anyway, so imma imagine they are teaching that as a class already.

Can you imagine how good making a bubble that shuts out the outside world be with a whole ass mansion filled with PTSD riddled people who have nightmares? How much better it would be when the kids are getting rowdy or there is a fight? I would be sat there in silence just enjoying my day.

Plus, it isn't something I think alot of other people would think to have as a power? It wouldn't help me fight better, it wouldn't help me heal faster or be faster or anything like that, but I think it would be a strangley helpful ability to have.

I also like the idea of how interacting with certain people would be.

Like, Scott, Jean, Ororo and Charles all huddling into this tiny ass bubble I can make everytime Wade comes over. And yeah, I'm purposely making the bubble small because I would 100% hate that they don't like Wade's crazy stories.

Also, can I just say, Wade and Logan are definitely the uncles of the mansion, right? Like, all the kids are huddling around them when they show up, listens to Wade talk about random shit and does whatever Logan tells them too.

Logan is getting overwhelmed with noises because he can hear basically fucking everything? Boom! I'm making him a lil bubble for him while he sits and calms down.

A few of the kids are scared of the fireworks for 4th of July? Some of the adults too? Easy, I'll make a huge bubble made so everyone gets to enjoy the night!

[w8lkers]

★ | freak

carl grimes x fem!reader

note : not my best writing, but i liked the concept :P does not follow the canon.

warnings : the insult “freak”

new outsiders were recently welcomed into the community of alexandria. a group of outsiders, consisting of seven people in total. to carl, one of them was more noticeable than the rest. it was a girl and she also appeared to be missing an eye. that’s what carl assumed anyways, why else would someone wear a bandana over half their face?

he was shocked that her first words to him were “what are you staring at, freak”.

hearing that question almost stunned him into silence. almost.

all he could possibly muster up was an awkward sounding, “um- what?”. by the heat on his face, he could tell that there was an embarrassing amount of red on his face. this was far from his best first impression.

carl avoided her from then on, realising she might’ve needed some space to adjust to alexandria. maybe he could’ve stared at her less… but he couldn’t help but feel a bit offended by their first encounter, it left a sour taste left in his mouth every time he thought about it. it was both a humiliating and upsetting experience for carl. he didn’t mean to stare at her, he just couldn’t help be a little curious. the only person carl ever saw without an eye was the governor, the reason he refused to wear anything other than a bandage over his eye.

as the other members of the group got more acquainted with alexandria, carl was able to learn more about her - not from her directly of course, but from the other members of her group. he learnt her name was y/n. it was a pretty name, he thought so at least. carl also learnt that she lost her mother recently. that information had him awake for a couple nights, unable to sleep at the recurring thoughts of his own mother’s death. carl understood that pain.

he was slowly understanding why she was so hostile to him. when carl lost his mom, it consumed him. every waking minute was spent hearing her screams on a torturous loop in his mind. that kind of loss makes a person angry at the world and hungry for revenge, sometimes people become blinded by it. he knows he’s had his fair share of moments that he wished he could forget.

there was still the question on how to approach y/n. despite her appalling first impression, he was still curious enough to want to talk to her and clearly observing her from afar was the wrong way to go about it. carl went through multiple different scenarios in his mind, all the different ways he could approach her. more sleepless nights burdened carl’s evenings as he spent them debating with himself over what to say.

one day, he became fed up with thinking about it. his lack of sleep was beginning to show through some passive aggressive comments that rick certainly did not appreciate.

carl marched up to y/n, who was sat on the porch of the house her group had been given. unfortunately, his confidence dissipated the moment he met her eye.

“um-.. i-“ he barely got anything out before y/n interrupted him. she blurted out a question, an uncomfortable expression across her face.

“how did you lose your eye?”

it took carl a few seconds to gather his composure. yet again, another interaction with her that has taken an unexpected turn. at least she didn’t call him a freak this time.

“i got shot.” he doesn’t know what else to say, but he purposefully leaves out anymore detail. it wouldn’t be a good look for alexandria if he said he was shot by an.. ex-resident. there’s an awkward pause and the two just staring at each other. carl can tell there’s something else she wants to ask, but he almost doesn’t want to ask in case she insults him again. he’s rather have some of his dignity intact at the end of their interaction.

it takes y/n an almost unbearable amount of silence to ask, “do you have any spare bandages?”

“um.. yeah, but you could go to the infirmary, we have supplies here- i can show you how to get there if you want?” he’s mostly confused by the question and seeing her wrap her arms around herself in an almost defensive manner furthered his confusion.

“nice try. i’m not leaving the house empty, so someone can come and snoop through our stuff.”

some people took longer to trust alexandria, he understood her current mindset. hell, he’d been there himself.

“look, no one here is after you. it’s not as bad as you think it is and the people here aren’t going to hurt you, if you just give this place more of a chance-“ interrupted yet again.

“i’ve heard this speech from almost everyone here, i don’t need to hear it again.” she was annoyed. this wasn’t going as well as carl wanted it to.

“sorry..” carl mumbles, looking down at the ground in embarrassment. he looks back at y/n and she’s still looking at him. it was slightly unnerving, carl had no idea what to expect from her. another insult, or maybe another personal question.

“i can go get you bandages and come back..?” his voice sounded slightly hesitant, though his offer was genuine.

y/n’s eye narrowed slightly in suspicion, yet carl was unphased by it. he expected her to be guarded, the people she arrived with certainly cautioned the people at alexandria about the attitude she developed.

“really?” she sounded unsure, as if she couldn’t tell if he was being serious.

“sure.. yeah.” he has a small, slightly weary smile on his face that looks more like a wince to y/n.

“okay.” y/n looks down at the ground, her voice becoming quieter as she speaks again, “thank you..”

“yep.” carl spins on his heel and walks away from her, quickening the pace of his walk in the direction of the infirmary. he lets out a deep sigh of relief, it wasn’t going as badly as it could, but he still felt slightly on edge.

“here.” carl tosses each item he retrieved from the infirmary to y/n and she catches them, placing them down in her lap.

“thanks.”

“you’re welcome.” carl smiles hesitantly at her.

“cool..” y/n mumbles, looking down at the roll of bandages, a roll of medical tape and a few plasters.

“have you ever put a bandage over.. your eye? i know i struggled the first few times i had to do it.” carl is reluctant to stop talking to her, strangely she was pleasant to be around when she wasn’t insulting him.

“no, i’ll figure it out though.”

“are you sure? i don’t mind helping you-“

“no.”

“i get it, okay? you don’t trust us yet, but we’re good people. i just want to help, whatever’s under there isn’t anything i haven’t seen before.” carl gains a little more confidence in himself and his words, he stands a bit straighter - he’s determined to prove her wrong about alexandria.

y/n spends a few seconds digesting his words. on the one hand, she could be mean and he’d leave her alone, but on the other hand, she knew she needed help. her mother was the one who tied the bandana over her eye once the wound she had healed. she never took it off after that, but the members of her group began lecturing her about ‘appearances’. the bandana was torn, dirty and even seemed to be charred at some parts.

“come inside.”

carl follows her inside the house. the group had clearly started to decorate their home a bit and carl takes note of the photographs on the wall. unfamiliar faces that he couldn’t recall seeing with the group and he knew why.

“so, how did you lose your eye?” carl asks, following y/n into a bathroom.

“i lost it in a fight with a hungry squirrel.” her voice was nonchalant and carl almost thought she was serious for a second.

he chuckles and stands by the bathroom counter, unravelling the bandages, “you’re funny. how’d you lose it?”

“the world is full of rotten people.”

“not alexandria though, there’s good people here.” carl glances over at y/n as she slowly unties the knot holding the bandana in place around her head. she pulls the fabric away from her face and she turns her head slightly to try shield her eye from carl’s vision.

“you really like it here, huh?” y/n almost sounds bitter about it. he could see why. carl was comfortable, he felt safe in alexandria, but y/n was most likely feeling the opposite.

“yeah, it’s nice here..” carl lifts the bandages and wraps it around y/n’s head to measure the length he would need. using a small pair of scissors he cuts the bandage into a strip long enough to wrap around her head, “i like it at least, it takes some time to get used to though.”

“i got stabbed.. that’s how i lost it.” y/n speaks quietly, looking up at carl once she knew she couldn’t avoid it. he needed to put a plaster over eye, he was going to see it, so she might as well tell the truth.

“people don’t think about it as much as you’d think,” carl speaks as he puts a plaster over her eye, he had seen the damage, “my dad tells me the same thing, but it’s hard to believe someone when their eyes keep going from your eye to.. not your eye.”

y/n laughs. it was more of a chuckle, but it still brought a smile to carl’s face. he didn’t comment about it, but instead revelled in the moment for a few seconds. he worked in silence as he helped y/n secure the bandage over her missing eye. he didn’t mind the silence much, at least now that he knew she didn’t hate him.

“i’m sorry i called you a freak.”

carl smiles at her apology. he didn’t expect her to apologise, but he clearly underestimated her, “it’s water under the bridge.”

he was nice, y/n knew that. it almost felt too nice after the experiences she had with strangers before arriving at alexandria.

“there’s still good people left. i know everything inside you is probably telling you not to trust this place, but it’s safe here.” carl pauses for a few minutes, trying to find the right words to say, “a few people might say some wrong thing, but it’s not on purpose. sometimes.. they just don’t know better, but they mean well...”

“okay.”

“i’m carl by the way.”

“i’m y/n.”

“i know.” the words slip out of carl’s mouth before he can stop himself. the last thing he wanted to do was come across as a creep, “sorry- i just overheard janine talking about you.”

“cool.. thanks for the help.”

carl now has a genuine smile on his face, it didn’t look uncomfortable and forced this time. he nods at her and tidies up the the supplies he used, putting them into the cupboard.

“you know.. there’s gonna be a party.. thing? it’s at the end of the week, but alexandria throws them every time there’s new people..” carl pauses and then continues talking, “it’s not really a party, but the last time they had one here was when me and my group arrived. you should go.”

“i’ll think about it.”

she very obviously didn’t trust him yet, but it seemed like she was trying. her behaviour may come across as abrasive and cold, but it was nothing carl hadn’t seen before. eventually she would have to warm up to him, right?

“cool.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Undercover (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: What is going on?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: i kinda got a boost while writing this lol 🤭

anyways, enjoy!

Y/n kept her eyes focused on the civilians that were making their way back to the buildings they stayed in, hoping they would just fucking hurry up and stop walking like snails.

As the final person stepped through and let the rickety door close behind them, Y/n released a breath, ignoring the sweat that dripped down her neck just like she ignored the parasite that stood less than a feet away from her, his eyes fixed on the exact place hers were glued to.

"They're gone-"

"I can see that-"

"We need to hurry. Move."

He shot her a look, gesturing with his hands as he took a step forward, and then another, and Y/n had half the mind to just ignore his words and settle down, because why would he tell her to do exactly what she was about to do?

Did he really think she would follow his orders just because Castle would bow down to his every wish?

When she didn't move at the speed of light at his oh-so-very-polite request, he turned to glare at her.

"Why must you be so difficult all the damn time?"

She lifted her chin, then stalked forward, ignoring him and skirting around his figure, despite the urge to shove her shoulders into his.

He released a frustrated sigh behind her, muttering something under his breath, which, unfortunately, Y/n was unable to hear.

Bastard.

Clenching her jaw, Y/n continued forward, deciding it best to ignore his insignificant self for the time being until it was necessary for them to interact.

Soon- sooner than Y/n would have liked- they arrived at the building where all the officials from Sector 45 lived and controlled everything from.

Y/n could not stop staring at the plush interior, so richly decorated, so much more colourful and different from the outside world. All Y/n could think about as a soldier led them through the place was about how stark the differences were.

About how much more hopeful the outside world would be if they only even got just a fraction of the luxury the officials lived in.

Her awe and shock had slowly morphed into resentment and ire, imagining what could have been if only her family had been living in better conditions.

Imagining a life without Castle and his unnecessary favouritism.

A life without anyone's pity.

"Y/n?"

Y/n blinked, turning her head to find Kenji staring at her with furrowed brows. "Yes?"

"Can you stop living in your dreamland and focus for once?"

Y/n stared at him, unamused as she waited for her mask to fall into place, slowly building back the wall she usually hid her memories behind.

The moment he looked away, she let herself glance around, taking in the new surroundings once again, cataloguing the closed door in front of her, the absence of the female guard who the two of them had been following till now.

She would've asked Kenji what was going on, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of lecturing her on why she was not suited for any missions again.

So she waited, anticipation crawling in her gut like a pest before the door in front of her opened, and out walked the lady who had been escorting them. "Go on in, he's waiting for you."

Who?

Kenji nodded, then stepped inside, leaving Y/n standing awkwardly by herself. Was she supposed to follow him?

The lady gave her a funny look, then moved aside. "Are you not ging in?"

Y/n blinked, a rush of blood making her face feel so much warmer as she ducked her head, hurrying to follow Kenji.

Why did he not tell her the whole plan beforehand?

Asshole.

As soon as the door fell closed behind her, her eyes met Kenji's glaring ones, and she let herself glare back at him until someone cleared their throat.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Y/n's eyes flew to the man that stood next to the desk in the center of the room, his eyebrows raised. Y/n was about to deny the allegations, but before she could, the sound of Kenji's she giggle froze her.

"So, you are... what, lovers?"

Y/n turned to look at Kenji, who rubbed the back of his head.

"Yes, sir."

Y/n had to stop herself from laughing, wondering if this was some sick joke, but one look from Kenji had her straightening, looking away.

What the fuck.

The lady guard- Belle- escorted Y/n and Kenji to the guards quarters.

Acting like new conscripts wasn't hard, and the old man had not questioned the two of them much about their reason for conscripting. Despite what Y/n initially thought, he was just the right hand man of the man who ran the place.

Warner, or whatever his name was, was apparently busy, and so he had his right hand man do the procedures necessary for the joining.

It was a pretty quick ordeal, and the man seemed uninterested the whole time, though Y/n hadn't been worried about that part.

The only thing she could think about was why Kenji would pretend T/n and him were lovers.

She hadn't gotten much time to talk to him, but now that Y/n and Kenji were left alone to make their way to the different barracks, Y/n grabbed his arm, her blood boiling.

"Lovers? Lovers?"

"Oh get over yourself. It was necessary."

"If it was necessary, why was I not informed?"

He pulled his arm from her hold, his eyes blazing. "If you had paid attention to any of the words Castle spoke instead of sulking, you would've known."

"So its my fault-"

"Yes, yes it fucking is."

Y/n stilled, staring at him. In all the time she'd known him, he had never gotten this riled up, even when they fought.

He shoved a hand through his hair, turning and stalking off toward the male barracks, leaving Y/n wondering.

What just happened?

Shatter Me Taglist: @harrystylesfan2686 @dahliawarner

Kenji Kishimoto Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter

[screemnch]

The Pathologic Russian and English analysis: Clara Saburova the Changeling.

Time is a flat circle, similar to a frisbee, and the world is using it to wack me repeatedly on the head with it. So anyway, I finally got my shit together and made another addition to this madness project. This time including images of both English and Russian text. Let us begin

It’s a bit… difficult to pin down what kind of person Clara is in the English translation - partially because you don’t always know for sure which Clara you’re talking to, as well as the fact that she is, most of the time, an obstacle. She seems to shift between “mean child who’s acting like she hasn’t learned about empathy yet”, “kind earnest and trying her best”, and “ominously inhuman and deceiving”. This is, obviously, because of Clara’s main schtick - the fact that there’s two of them (and also because she knows a lot more than the two other healers). Most of the time, however, she comes across as someone with either good or dubious intentions. It’s like she’s trying to help (or acting like she’s trying to help), but things keep going horribly wrong. Since we’re not playing as her, we don’t get nearly as much insight into how frightened she is and how shaky and unstable her current situation is, so she is judged by both of the healers in a very harsh way. She seems a bit verbose for a kid/teenager, however that is nothing out of the ordinary in the town on Gorkhon. Her lines, a lot of the time are either indirect or very direct jabs, so there is an impression that she thinks she is smarter than the other two and is quite fed up with them. It’s difficult to say much else about it without getting into specifics, so here we go.

As the bachelor: Clara only gets interactions on days 3, 6, 11, and 12. You might think that that would make it difficult to write about her, but wow did they put so much stuff in the very few conversations she gets to have with Daniil. There is a level of consistency between how she speaks in English and Russian here, though she seems a bit more earnest in this campaign. Like she’s trying to help, but she also thinks that Dankovsky is unable to receive the help she’s trying to give. Or unwilling. Mainly, however, in Russian there is a very weird quality to her way of speaking that I’m not quite sure carries over well to English. See, (and this is where it gets the tiniest bit anecdotal) I’ve had my fair share of hearing religious talk in Russian (but not in English, which is why I’m not sure if this is even a valid point) - I’ve been to orthodox churches, and in general Christianity is very largely propagated in the part of Russia I grew up in. So I, like presumably many others, am familiar with the very distinct way that religious figures speak. It sounds ancient, but not the same “fairy tale” ancient that I talked about before. Instead of changing the sentence structure, they utilise more biblical words in places where any other person would use regular modern words. Best way I can explain it is how someone might say “t’is” instead of “it is” but like… Religious? “For” instead of “because.” And that is the tone that Clara takes on sometimes. It meshes really well with her “divine messenger” persona, even though she still acts like a child every now and then. It’s a very unique combination that gives her way of speaking a distinct sound that exists outside of time. Overall, however, the translation was pretty close to the original Russian version, so let’s look at where these two diverge.

What’s a little weird to me here is that umm… This is the conversation Daniil has with Clara on day 3 about the Taglur and when I read this in English I was a little confused, because it sounds like the Bachelor is asking a question about Clara’s plans for making a new world or whatevsies, but… This dialogue option is one of those that immediately ends the conversation, which didn’t make sense to me at all. In Russian it’s a bit more akin to “And who’s bright idea was it to place this miracle here?” (or literally “to whose head did the idea to place this miracle here come?” A bit more confusing, but yeah) See, the word here for “miracle” is “чудо” (pronounced smth like “choodo”), which can mean miracle or wonder, but can also be a shorthand for “чудище” or “чудовище” which is a word used to describe monsters. You know. Wonder-creatures. In this context, the word “чудо” when aimed towards a person (Clara) is meant to signify someone either ugly, eccentric or nonsensical. So to sum up, the best way to understand this line is “Who’s bright idea was it to bring this weirdo here?” in which case… Yeah, I can definitely see why that would end the dialogue.

Here’s a fun little thing: I’ve mentioned before how the Haruspex defines Clara in very vague terms. Here, when the Changeling (the real one, guys, trust me) is asking the Bachelor to deal with the Changeling pretending to be her(yeah, go figure), in English she calls her a “loathsome creature”. However, in Russian she calls her (according to Google translate) an “abomination”, “filth” or (in my own translation) “grossness”, which - you guessed it - is indeed a very vague term. Regardless of who you think is talking to the Bachelor at the moment, it’s still very interesting to see, for various reasons. She also does this later in the dialogue (and the English translation ignores it again)

More out of the same dialogue tree where the Bachelor is trying to get Clara’s blood. I’ve made a point in the analysis of the Bachelor from the Changeling’s perspective, where he calls her “darling”  where the original was something like “sweet/dear creature” and almost had a sombre mood to it. In this one, however, it is the complete opposite. Not only does the word he uses here actually translate the best to “darling” (or dove), but it also has the same kind of ironic connotation to it as I mentioned. In this particular scenario he almost sounds… Thuggish? The words he uses, as well as the use of the “-ка” sounds similar to the snarky, confrontational way that thugs and bandits speak in cartoons. Something like “c’mere, dear” that makes it clear you’re about to get beaten up.

Two things here: firstly, in this dialogue line Clara refers to Daniil using the informal version of “you”, while the lines said by the Changeling whose blood he doesn’t get uses the formal version. In the interaction on day 3 Clara doesn’t address him directly at all, but I think in other dialogues she also addresses him informally (It isn’t surprising to see Clara address Daniil of all people informally, because not only does she see herself as, at least in part, a tool of divine whatevertheheck, she also rightfully believes that he is an idiot. She does not need to be polite to the stupidest man this side of the Gorkhon (I say this lovingly, of course).

Secondly though, I’d like to point out the way Daniil talks to her in here, because when I did my analysis of his lines I talked about how the English translation dials down the intensity of the stuff he says. This here is a prime example, as the Russian version is not only more curt, but also uses a much more cutting insult. Of course, people are well aware of the Russian language’s rich curse word vocabulary, but it also has the wonderful capability of making non-curse words sound like the most humiliating thing ever. I think maybe it’s the way Russian combines rolled “r”s and multiple consonants (which is less prominent in English) that allows its words to have that added weight to it. Here he calls her essentially “trash”, specifically - something that’s been so torn up and worn out that it's become useless. The way the word rolls off the tongue when you say it out loud is almost like a spit in the face, and it’s not softened by calling her “little” or anything. He calls her trash. How dare.

I’m bringing this up because it has me genuinely confused? The English version makes sense, or so I thought until I read the Russian version? Because the Russian version kinda states the opposite. It says “You can’t come up with a better knife for this than a conversation - of course, only if you’re in a hurry.” Which is very different from “unless you’re in a hurry” because those meanings are like… The opposite? The English implying that a conversation is a good way to see what’s going on in her soul, but the Russian one alluding to the fact that it’s only good if you’re in a hurry? Or is she agreeing to give her blood because they don’t have time for a conversation? I don’t know. I’m confused. Help.

I think the metanarratives of pathologic are very cool, so when I read this line in English I got really excited, because I thought it might be implying that Clara is aware of the fact that the player may have died a few times during the bachelor route alone (similar to how she calls the other healers her past or future). Then I realised that it simply could’ve meant “dying” as in being close to death. Then I got excited again, because I thought the Russian version might elucidate the issue for me. And… I think I was right? I think she implies here that Daniil has died several times, although it was probably just left vague for this specific purpose. Either way, the fact that it can be read this way and was probably worded like this just to confuse the players (and reward those who may have been on the lookout for it) is really cool to me. Also in response to that (where in English Daniil says Clara has “a shrewd eye for human condition”) he calls her a psychologist, and then brushes her off as trying to charm him, which means we don’t get to gauge the meaning of what she was saying through his response either.

This one has a couple of fun differences. Firstly, instead of referring to the town in its “true form” Clara refers to saving it “the way that the town turned out.” This, to me, is a slight difference that paints the contradictory nature of the town in a different light. The English version claiming that it’s the town’s “true” form almost makes it seem like a design from an outside force, both bringing up vibes of intelligent design and the fact that the town was made this exact way by the children. The Russian version’s implication that the town “turned out” this way has a more “nature is a chaotic force with no purpose” vibe to it, that would more suit a person unaware of the whole “we’re dolls for a children’s game inside of a video game” thing. Maybe I’ve just gotten used to being picky about the tiniest word choices because of my studies, but I feel like this difference changes the overall vibe. Like painting with the same colour but using a different brush.

Secondly, in Russian Clara calls Aglaya’s mission “simply a performance for fools” which to me is a wonderful choice of words, given all the theatre themes included in the gameplay.

I’ve kind of set a precedent where I make all of these “translation differences” have some sort of significant meaning for the narrative, but I just think this one is genuinely cool? It’s a bit of a “same colour, different brush” situation, where the sentiment is the same, but the word choice carries a different vibe. Focusing on the last sentence here, the Changeling specifically says “You were supposed to bribe him with your honesty” instead of “get at him”. And I just think that’s neat, because like. I always thought of “getting at someone” as like… An attack or provocation? But “bribing” someone has a bit more of that slimy vibe, which clashes with “honesty” so well, and… I guess it’d technically be an oxymoron.

During the conversation in regards to Clara acknowledging Maria as a mistress, in the Russian version she frequently switches between formal and informal “yous” when talking to the Bachelor. However, as it becomes clear here, this is an instance in which instead of a sign of respect, it seems that she is referring to several people at the same time. Namely, that she is directing her words both at Daniil and Artemy. During the Bachelor’s campaign she seems to think that the Haruspex is a lost cause and they seemingly don’t interact (and she even believes that he is dead during this day), so I doubt she actually ever spoke to him about this. It’s interesting then that she still tries to convince the Bachelor, even though she often calls him a fool. Makes you wonder what the differences are between this scenario and the Changeling campaign (in which she can invite Artemy to the Cathedral on the final day fully knowing that he chooses to stay oblivious).

Here’s some silly Clara on day 12 (right after giving a whole speech about the Polyhedron) and I just wanted to point out this very fun change. Instead of saying “pretty face” she instead says “мордашка” (pronounced “mordashka”)  which is a diminutive of “морда” (“morda) which is usually the word people use to refer to an animal’s face. Except it can also be used to refer to a person’s face if you’re calling them ugly. The addition of the diminutive adds a little mischievous tone to it, which turns it from ugly into a “cute” kind of thing. Like… Derpy, I guess. Anyways, I think it’s absolutely hilarious that Clara says that while also talking about the eldritch concept of being a multitude of people, or perhaps just one person controlled by the will of different people at different times (which they all are, by the way).

Big difference here that I found absolutely odd as in why they cut it out of the English version? This is from the “did you know we are toys?” dialogue tree and if you look carefully, you’ll see that there’s a bit here in Russian that for some reason wasn’t included in the English version. The last sentence after Clara says that she has an advantage. She adds “and I intend to use it.” Which like… I feel to someone who hasn’t played patho before would sound antagonistic, but to those who know - this is a direct indication to how it feels like playing as Clara in the campaign. You know a lot more about the game and the characters from other campaigns. And you already know that the kids are there and that they are toys. While playing you use all this knowledge to your advantage to play the game better. So yeah, don’t know why they cut that out of the translation.

Alright, I think that’s about all I’ve got for Clara’s role in the Bachelor’s campaign. I’d say the biggest differences that I notice is, of course, the biblical language (which I didn’t get good examples of unfortunately, but the whole “your eyes are white for you are blind” is a good example) and the subtle ways in which the words Clara uses hint to her knowledge of what is going on. As always, it’s something that’s also present in the English version, but there are also things that are characteristic to the Russian language that allow her to break the fourth wall. Like, with the change to a formal “you” we can get a bit more clarity on whether the Clara we’re talking to is real or not. With the specific verbs she uses we can almost see the outline of a false bottom to everything she says and I think that’s really cool. Outside of the translations, I think it is genuinely fascinating to get a better glimpse into Clara’s story during the Bachelor campaign - I feel like if we got more of her, it would give the whole game away. In what she says already, talking about the wills behind her, behind the Bachelor (although she does count Artemy as part of the “special toys” camp, she always says it with such disappointment. Cuz she compares herself to him, but is also frustrated that he refuses to get it) she alludes to being aware of not only the stagehands, but also the player and the power that they have. It’s also really cool because you can almost compare her to Aglaya, what with all the knowledge, sacrifice, and being doomed by the narrative. Except Clara’s approach is entirely different, although it’s difficult to glimpse through her frequently changing attitude. They both know “the Law”, both talk about how miracles should not be captured - except Aglaya seeks to undo what has been done, while Clara wants to forge ahead, accept the changes as part of the world. They both seek to fix what’s wrong, but what to them is considered “fixing” is so directly opposed that they have to destroy each other. I don’t know. I just think that both of them are really cool characters that totally don’t make me wanna scream, cry, and throw up, and you know… They deserve just as much love and obsessive analysis as the men in the story (speaking of which, in one of the dialogue trees where Clara talks about Block essentially becoming a crusader she can also admit that she knows it’s not true and that he’s also doomed, but she feels so bad about it that she pretends that he isn’t. And who knows, with a miracle worker like her it might just become the truth).

Also I'm thinking of maybe at one point or another making a name pronunciation, meaning, nickname, and literary references guide? Idk, sounds like it'd be fun.

I feel like a weird little bog creature whenever I emerge with one of these. Have fun and remember to engage your critical thinking skills, fact check, and let the media you encounter change you (be it through vulnerability or empowerment) instead of just being fodder for your consumption.

[avengxrz]

WARM BODIES

Chapter 01: Stranger, Danger

chapter synopsis: You're stuck in a really long traffic jam with lots of noise and darkness. The car is your temporary safe spot where you're dealing with recent bad stuff, especially the news that your brother, Rick, might not be alive. As you talk to strangers and learn tough things, everything gets worse, and the city suddenly explodes, leaving you alone in a completely different world.

chapter warnings: violence and chaos, graphic descriptions, loss and grief, isolation and social anxiety, misunderstandings and awkward interactions, bombings, shane walsh.

word count: 2.1k words

author's note: Here's the first chapter. Although it's already published on Wattpad, it took me an hour to make all the changes for this version. On Wattpad, it's written in the third person, but for Tumblr, I changed it to the second person, which was a bit challenging. Anyway, Happy New Year!

MASTERLIST

NEXT CHAPTER >>

Stuck in what felt like an endless traffic jam, the encroaching darkness only seemed to magnify the chaos swirling outside their car's windows. It was a disheartening sight - people arguing, yelling, crying, and a haphazard assembly of folks grabbing quick bites to eat. The claustrophobic environment was nothing short of uncomfortable for you. Large crowds had never been your cup of tea, and trust was a rare commodity reserved solely for your closest kin - her nephew Carl, your sister-in-law Lori, your brother's friend Shane, and, of course, your brother Rick, whom Shane had grimly suggested might no longer be counted among the living.

As you sat in the backseat, the vehicle a temporary refuge from the pandemonium outside, Lori, Shane, and your young nephew Carl engaged with the world beyond. Young Carl was engrossed in a board game with another child, a girl named Sophia, whose name you caught in passing. Nearby, Lori chatted with Sophia's mother, a friendly woman with cropped grey hair. You, however, were an island within the car, your apprehension keeping you from engaging with those around you. Vivid and horrifying images from a few hours earlier still loomed large in your mind -- your neighbors, once familiar faces, had been ruthlessly torn apart by the ravenous undead, and the sight of a mother attacking her own child had left an indelible mark.

The traumatic experiences had taken a heavy toll, and when Shane somberly shared the news that Rick had not survived the chaos at the overrun hospital, you found yourself unable to contain your grief. Your tears flowed unchecked.

Seated in the car, the window slightly ajar to allow a breath of fresh air, you remained silent, clutching your small sketchbook as though it were a lifeline in this turmoil. Your stomach occasionally grumbled with hunger, but you paid it little heed, knowing full well that everyone in their dire circumstances faced the same pangs of hunger.

Shane peered at you with a quiet empathy, recognizing the weight of your distress. He gently suggested, "You know, it might do ya some good to step outside for a bit. Get some fresh air. Clear your head." He gestured towards the open car window, where a faint breeze teased the edges of your sketchbook. "You don't gotta stay cooped up in here. Take a moment for yourself if ya need it, now."

You simply shook your head, your eyes remaining fixed on your sketchbook. You had never really taken to Shane. Sometimes, he just gave you the creeps, particularly when he got a little too close to Lori. It was an uneasy feeling you couldn't quite shake.

Lori appeared behind Shane, crouching down to peer through the car's window. Lori's voice was filled with genuine concern as she leaned closer to you. "Hey, it's sweltering in here. Would you mind stepping outside for a bit? Keep an eye on Carl, okay? Shane and I are going to see if there's another way out of this mess." Her motherly smile remained, reassuring you as she spoke.

You nodded in agreement and stepped out of the car. You noticed the subtle frown on Shane's face, likely interpreting your actions as an example of your stubbornness, a trait you had displayed on numerous occasions.

After Shane and Lori departed, you hesitantly made your way toward where Carl and the young girl named Sophia were engrossed in their board game. Carl glanced up, offering you a tired but affectionate smile before returning to his match with Sophia, who greeted you with a shy smile. You placed a comforting hand on Carl's shoulder and observed their chessboard, which seemed to suggest that Sophia would emerge as the victor. In your peripheral vision, you noticed the middle-aged woman with short grey hair, Sophia's mother, slowly making her way over. Your inner plea for a conversation to be avoided echoed loudly in your mind.

Please, not another conversation with a stranger.

Oh, God.

Standing beside you, Sophia's mother introduced herself with a shy smile as Carol. Her eyes held a hint of curiosity as she extended her hand in a gesture of friendship. "Hi, I'm Carol," she said, her voice tinged with sincerity.

Carol's friendly gesture met an unexpectedly muted response from you, who refrained from extending a hand for a handshake. The slight pause hung in the air, and after it became clear that you had no intention of reciprocating the handshake, Carol gently withdrew her hand, a hint of awkwardness coloring the moment.

You, who had been grappling with the weight of recent events and the horrors you had witnessed, couldn't help but feel a touch awkward in this interaction. Your response was somewhat halting, and your eyes briefly met Carol's before looking away.

"Y/N Grimes," you said, the words escaping your lips softly, as if you weren't entirely sure how to navigate this unexpected social encounter.

Clearing her throat to break the somewhat awkward silence, Carol ventured a question. "Are you Carl's older sister?" she inquired, her tone kind and inquisitive. "And do you know where your mom went with Shane?"

You, finding yourself caught in an unfamiliar social exchange, responded with a touch of awkwardness. "Lori isn't my mother," you began, your words hesitant. "She's my sister-in-law, and Carl is my nephew."

Realizing her assumption had been off the mark, Carol's expression softened with understanding. "I'm sorry," she said gently, a note of apology in her voice. "You just seemed... well, you look so young, I thought maybe you were Carl's older sister and Lori was your mother. I didn't mean to presume."

Your usual shyness accentuated by the circumstances, managed a small, reassuring smile. "It's okay," you responded softly. "A lot of people have thought the same thing about me." Your awkwardness seemed to soften with a hint of understanding, as if you were accustomed to these types of misunderstandings. Which, in fact, you were.

Suddenly, your ears perked up when you heard the sound of helicopters. You swiftly told Carl to stay where he was, within sight of Carol, and then asked Carol, "Hey, could you watch over Carl for a minute?"

Carl shook his head at you, "No. I wanna go with you!"

You considered for a moment before shaking your head. "No, Carl, it's safer here. Just stay put for a minute." You then looked at Carol, "Carol?"

Carol agreed, her eyes scanning the surroundings as she replied, "Of course, I'll keep an eye on him."

You nodded in appreciation, then ventured into the woods where you could see the darkened city of Atlanta. As you gazed at the skyline, you couldn't help but notice that some of the taller buildings were illuminated with eerie, flickering lights. You couldn't shake the grim realization that those buildings, bathed in light, had likely been overrun, and the city now belonged to the dead, the undead monsters.

Then, the helicopters returned, and to your shock, they dropped a devastating payload. A series of deafening explosions sent shockwaves through the air, as fire and smoke erupted in an apocalyptic display of red and orange, transforming the once-familiar city into a nightmarish inferno. The horrifying scene left you, in yoursolitude, in stunned silence, your world forever altered by the devastation unfolding before you.

As the helicopters dropped bombs on the city of Atlanta, the earth-shattering explosions and fiery chaos unfolding in the distance, you stood alone in the woods, your heart heavy with a sorrow that had been lingering for far too long. The reality you had been reluctant to accept came crashing down upon you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and the weight of grief overwhelmed you as you finally acknowledged what you had been trying to deny.

Your brother, Rick, whom you hadn't seen die with your own eyes, whose absence had filled you with hope that he might still be out there somewhere, was now gone. The hospital overrun by the undead, as Shane had told them, had sealed Rick's fate, and the detonation of those bombs had obliterated any last vestiges of that hope. Rick was dead, and the tears that streamed down on your face were a painful, final acknowledgment of that irrevocable loss.

As you stood there in the woods, tears streaming down your face, your thoughts inevitably turned to your brother, Rick. Your memories painted vivid scenes of your last moments together, the disagreements fueled by your stubbornness that still lingered in your mind. But it was the distant past, back when your parents had passed away, that truly weighed on you.

Rick had immediately assumed the role of a parent for you, becoming not just a brother, but a father figure and your closest friend. The nurturing, protective instincts he had exhibited since both of your parents' death were etched into your memory. Rick had been your steadfast anchor, your guiding light in a world that had grown increasingly dark.

And now, in the aftermath of the bombings in Atlanta, you were forced to confront the crushing reality that he was gone. The grief was unbearable, for you knew that your brother, your father figure, your best friend was no more, lost forever in the turmoil of the world's collapse.

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 5) Chapter One

Father Figure! Lucifer x Teen! Reader

Chapter One: Is That So Much to Ask on My Birthday?

Summary: (Y/N) has to deal with their birthday without Lucifer.

Mouse Note: Welcome back to Adolescent Antichrist! Book 5 is here! And, yes, we're starting out unhappy. Sorry not sorry, it's necessary. But, anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! Please remember to comment, I love interacting with you guys. I'm so excited to share everything I have planned with you all. I have the next two books planned, and I am just so so excited to start this book and continue this series. Seriously. So, here we go! (Also, me posting a birthday chapter on my birthday??? Wow)

            (Y/N) ignored the knock at the bedroom door as they slept.

            “(Y/N),” called Chloe.

            They groaned and pulled a pillow over their head.

            “(Y/N), come on, everyone’s here,” said Chloe.

            No, they’re not, thought (Y/N).

            “Just come out for a little bit,” said Chloe.

            “Leave me alone,” said (Y/N) finally.

            “(Y/N), all your friends are here,” said Chloe.

            “I don’t care.”

            “It’s your birthday. They want to support you.”

            “It’s my birthday. I just want to be left alone,” snapped (Y/N).

            “(Y/N)—”

            “Go away, Chloe. Please.”

            “…Alright. But I’m right outside if you need anything,” said Chloe.

            She didn’t get another response.

            (Y/N) just curled up more and tried to ignore the outside world. The ache in their heart from Lucifer’s absence hadn’t abated, and they were left feeling empty every day without their dead. They went about their days like a robot, trying to remember how to feel but unable to trust themself to get close to anyone after the person (Y/N) decided to trust first betrayed them and abandoned them.

            Now (Y/N)’s birthday had arrived. They were turning sixteen.

            And their dad still hadn’t come back. They were still alone and broken and empty and tired of everything. Nothing anyone could do could fix the whole Lucifer’s departure had torn in them.

            (Y/N) just wanted him back. They wanted Lucifer to come home. They wanted their dad to come back to them.

            Instead, (Y/N) was forced to confront the fact that he wasn’t coming. Once again, they had to understand that not even important moments of their life would bring Lucifer back. He was gone—forever.

            And (Y/N) would be broken forever.

l

            “Are they coming out?” asked Olive hopefully as Chloe walked back into the living room.

            Chloe sighed and shook her head. “They’re staying in. I’m sorry that you all came out here for this.”

            “(Y/N)’s our friend. Of course we came to support them,” said Noa.

            “Even if they’re not ready to celebrate,” said Leon.

            “But they haven’t felt alright for months,” said Marcel, worried.

            “Is there nothing we can do to help them?” asked Amenadiel, looking at Linda.

            The therapist sighed. “I don’t think so. Only time can really heal this. Lucifer leaving…It’s a big change for them.”

            “And Birdie has enough trauma surrounding abandonment that this really hurt them,” said Em, casting their eyes down.

            “We should leave them alone,” said Chloe. “That’s what they said they wanted.”

            “We’ll leave their gifts here,” said Linda, smiling. “If they need anything, just let us know.”

            “Yes. We’re here to help,” said Amenadiel.

            “Yeah! And we all sent (Y/N) messages to say, ‘Happy Birthday,’ ” said Marcel.

            “They’ll appreciate that,” said Chloe, smiling.

            “Do you mind if I stay here?” said Em. “Just for a little bit. Just…in case.” They couldn’t just stand by. She wanted to help (Y/N) in some way, even if it was just sitting beside them.

            Chloe nodded. “I think that would be good. I have to check in at work, so having someone near with (Y/N) right now would be good for them.”

            “Let us know if we can help at all,” said Noa.

            “Yeah,” said Olive.

            “We’re here for them, as well,” said Leon.

            “I will,” said Em, smiling.

l

            “Birdie.”

            (Y/N) heard the familiar voice, and their heart ached. “What? I thought I told everyone to go away.”

            “They did,” said Em. “But I can’t just leave you.”

            “Whatever,” muttered (Y/N).

            “I’m not letting you break down like this,” said Em resolutely. “I can’t let you just sit there alone and push everyone away.”

            “Fuck off,” snapped (Y/N).

            Em kicked open the door, and (Y/N) yelped, sitting up. “What the hell?!”

            “I said I wasn’t letting you sit in here alone,” said Em, walking in.

            “Go away!” said (Y/N), standing up and glaring. “I want to be left alone to my own misery! Is that so much to ask on my birthday?!”

            Em hugged (Y/N) tightly. (Y/N) froze up and stiffened, not having expected that from Em, who was barely that affectionate.

            “It’s going to be okay, Birdie,” said Em softly, holding (Y/N) tightly.

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they burned as tears collected. “I-I…”

            “I know,” said Em. “I know.”

            (Y/N) sobbed and hugged Em back as the tears began to fall. “He left me, Em. He left me…”

            “It’s going to be okay,” whispered Em, guiding (Y/N) to the floor as their knees buckled and they collapsed. “I swear, it’s going to be okay.” She let (Y/N) sob into their shoulder and held them tight.

            “How could he leave me?” said (Y/N), clutching onto Em’s shirt.

            “I don’t know,” said Em. “But you’re going to survive.”

            “…I just want him back,” whispered (Y/N).

            “I know. I know.”

            This wasn’t going to heal. There would always be a hole in (Y/N)’s heart without Lucifer.

            But Em hoped that they’d find a way to keep going. That was what she wanted for them.

l

            Lucifer stared at his phone, eyes empty of emotion. All he could look at was the picture displayed in front of him. (Y/N)’s face smiled out at him, and it broke Lucifer’s heart.

            He’d never see that smile again. He’d never hug them again. He’d never see his kid again.

            And Lucifer’s heart would never be whole because of it.

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